I had imagined that, reading Bone’s story, a girl like her would see what I intended—that being made the object of someone else’s contempt and rage did not make you contemptible. I was arguing against the voice that had told me I was a monster—at five, nine, and fifteen. I was arguing for the innocence and worth of that child—I who had never believed in my own innocence.
-Dorothy Allison (Author)
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