Written by: Joniqua the Genie

In 2020, my world shifted. I watched history repeat itself as my niece-my brother’s first child-endured the same abuse and neglect that had shaped my own childhood. The pain was familiar, almost invisible at first, because it was all I’d ever known. Abuse had been normalized in our family for generations. But this time, I was no longer a child. I could see the truth clearly, and it broke me.

I witnessed my mother beating my niece, calling her “ugly,” and allowing my brother-her uncle-to hit her whenever he pleased. My niece was denied love, support, and safety. I remember one night she cried herself to sleep outside my mother’s door. The next morning, my mother posted a photo of her curled up on the floor, joking that she almost “kicked the shit out of her ass” because she thought she was a “big-ass rat.” My niece was only five or six years old.

In 2021, I moved out, hoping distance would bring healing. But when I returned in 2023, things were worse. My niece was neglected, denied food, ignored, and shunned for simply having needs. Her mother told her to “shut the fck up” for wanting to talk. My brother-the same man who abused me-dismissed his own children with “mane fck them kids,” and the family did nothing but gossip. No one intervened. Her suffering was entertainment.

Sometimes, I would take my niece out-museums, parks, anywhere safe. I’d find her locked in a room, sad or crying. My teenage brother, with a severe porn addiction, was often in there too. No one else found this odd or inappropriate. Years ago, my oldest sister said my niece once confided, “my uncle touched me.” I didn’t know which uncle she meant. But the signs were there.

That summer, I picked her up again. Her hair was matted, she was malnourished, dehydrated, and deeply depressed. The bright, joyful girl I remembered was gone-silent, tense, avoiding eye contact, barely whispering, no longer playing with other kids. Her spirit was broken. She was dying right in front of me.

It pushed me to the edge. I gave my family an ultimatum: if my niece’s condition didn’t improve in 30 days, I’d call CPS. I even offered to care for her every evening and on weekends. My mother laughed, defended her parents, and told me not to return until I “knew God.” The next day, she refused to let my niece outside. So I did what I had to do: I called CPS, DCS, and the police. When that wasn’t enough, I went public on social media, exposing my entire family. The post went viral-nearly 10 million views. I launched a fundraiser for custody and raised $11,000.

But it still wasn’t enough. My abusive ex-boyfriend wanted my niece’s money. When I refused, he attacked me. I called the police, and both of us were arrested. I lost my job, my home, and my stability. I was sleeping on a stranger’s floor, surrounded by roaches. I had no chance at custody. I was exhausted, drained, and heartbroken. I was alone-disowned and abandoned by my family. I felt like I’d failed her, like I’d taken away her only voice.

But I didn’t quit. I promised myself I’d find another way to reach her.

That night, lying on the floor, defeated, I wrote the first book of my collection with tears in my eyes and a broken heart:
“What Does the Mirror Show Me?: Brown Girl World” ????????????????

This book is a letter from the heart of a little brown girl (me) who almost died a long time ago. It’s a letter to every brown girl in the world. It’s a message to my niece. It just hasn’t been “read” yet.

This is more than a book. It’s what saved my life, and now I’m using it to save others.

“I started to talk positively to myself in the mirror and tell myself everything I wished I heard in my childhood home. I started a relationship with myself. I started to save myself. I started to tell myself when I get older and leave this place, things will be different. This practice is what saved me from my toxic environment and it saved me from ending my life. And now here I am, child abuse advocate, children’s book author, business owner, CEO, book publisher, public speaker, and youth mentor.”

Why I Wrote This Book

I wrote this book for every brown girl who’s ever been told she’s not enough. For every child who’s been silenced, neglected, or abused. For my niece, who I haven’t seen in two years. I know she misses me, and I hope she sees this book and knows it’s me-her auntie, her twin-talking to her through every page.

This is a self-help book for brown girls everywhere. It teaches self-love, self-worth, and healing, no matter what the world throws at you. It shares the mirror practice I created as a child-speaking life and love to myself when no one else would. That practice saved me, and I know it can save others too.

How You Can Help

• Buy the book: Use it to heal your inner child, teach your own child, or help someone else’s child.
• Share this story: If you can’t buy it, please share this post. You never know who needs to hear it.
• Support brown girls: Remind them they are beautiful, worthy, and loved.

This book is my heart. It’s my fight. It’s my hope that one day, my niece-and every brown girl-will look in the mirror and see the truth: You are beautiful. You are loved. You are enough.

With love,
Joniqua