astarion's bhaal babe (wingspan matters)'s Reviews > Finding Me

The question still echoes, how did I claw my way out? There is no out. Every painful memory, every mentor, every friend and foe served as a chisel, a leap pad that has shaped “ME!” The imperfect but blessed sculpture that is Viola is still growing and still being chiseled.
My elixir? I’m no longer ashamed of me.

I'm in actual tears.
Where has this book been my whole life?
I don't usually read non-fiction books, even less if they're biographies, but my amazing best friend and her flawless taste in books thought this was the perfect Christmas gift for me, and it truly was.

I own everything that has ever happened to me. The parts that were a source of shame are actually my warrior fuel. I see people—the way they walk, talk, laugh, and grieve, and their silence—in a way that is hyperfocused because of my past. I’m an artist because there’s no separation from me and every human being that has passed through the world including my mom.

Objectively speaking, Finding Me is a powerful story; it's not an easy one to read, as it's one born in pain and violence. It's the story of a scared child geared up in a warrior armor, of a person who climbed her way out of her own personal hell hole with clenched teeth and an impressive amount of talent.
But thinking about it from the perspective of the entire universe, distilling the novel to its aching soul, it could be the story of many other women, women who still need to make peace with their past, women who struggle to put an end to the abusive streak they're enduring. Women who need to justify their choices and hopes. Women who forgot how to be without bruises and cuts.
That's what makes this book so impactful and that's what makes this world so sick.
It's terribly real, unfortunately so real.

I have a great deal of compassion for other people, but mostly for myself. That would not be the case if I did not reconcile that little eight-year-old girl and FIND ME.

I cried reading about Viola's childhood and the way her trauma shaped her into the woman she is today. I cheered for her, had my heart burn with pride and joy learning she's finally getting the love and life she deserves.
I feel connected to her and to all the women, of any color, of any biological nature, who fight every day for the birthright to be themselves.
I feel understood and lucky and I feel like I should do more to help, to listen, to heal. I feel inspired, emotional and thankful.
So very thankful.

This book really is a gift, in all and for all.


Viola Davis, you beautiful angel full of courage and passion. We don't deserve you.

I’m holding her now. My eight-year-old self. Holding her tight. She is squealing and reminding me, “Don’t worry! I’m here to beat anybody’s ass who messes with our joy! Viola, I got this.”