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Tuesday, January 10, 2017

Women in the Age of Trump: AMY

AMY by Amy Oestreicher is a semi-finalist for NYCPlaywrights project "Women in the Age of Trump."

AMY OESTREICHER is a PTSD peer-to-peer specialist, artist, author, writer for Huffington Post, speaker for TEDx and RAINN, health advocate, survivor, award-winning actress, and playwright, sharing the lessons learned from trauma through her writing, mixed media art, performance and inspirational speaking. As the creator of "Gutless & Grateful," her BroadwayWorld-nominated one-woman autobiographical musical, she's toured theatres nationwide, along with a program combining mental health advocacy, sexual assault awareness and Broadway Theatre for college campuses and international conferences. Learn more: amyoes.com.

Thanks to Amy Oestreicher for allowing NYCPlaywrights to publish this excerpt from her monologue AMY.

Before I was sexually abused, I was an innocent beauty and truth-seeker like Little Red Riding Hood, who strayed from the Path because a seemingly-friendly wolf tricked her into it – the flowers off the side of the road were just too pretty. So I became numb to the innocent things in life. Not even the flowers were my friend. I remember lying next to Wolf in the dark, tortured inside, but I thought at least I could confide in him. I had no one else.
“I really wish we could go back to being student and teacher. I don’t know, I’ve just felt really not like myself since everything happened.” 
He looked at me, and very logically responded, 
“Our connection was so deep that you know neither of us would have been satisfied had we just remained student and teacher. The pull was too intense – neither of us could help it. It would have happened sooner or later – that’s just the nature of soul-mates.” 
Of my lost innocence? 
“Well, I think it’s time you grow up. Your house has this enchanted air of never-never land, like the boys who never grow up.” 
I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t know what to think. Bit my lip to not feel anything

No point. There was no one I could tell who would understand so why bother. I turned off my feelers, my emotional radar, to save myself from the wolf. Little Red grew up, with one there to grieve with over my lost innocence.

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