Mutilated Female Minors Lacking Skin
In the heart of Montreal, a heart-shaped trampoline serves as a symbol of resilience for an author who bounces back from rejection and continues to help those in need. This individual, inspired by Marie-Sissi Labrecque's work, has a deep love for a unique group often referred to as "the girls without skin."
This affectionate term, though unconventional, encapsulates a sensitive and vulnerable group of individuals, often grouped under the label of Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD). These individuals are sensitive to a degree that is lacking in much of society, often acting as bearers of shadow, revealing flaws and blind spots in others.
One such individual is Marjo Beauchamp, an essential figure in the author's life. Marjo shared a poignant story about Jean-Christophe, a psychoeducator, who offered a system or institutional skin to Marjo when she needed her social safety net. Hearing Marjo's story renewed the author's hope that the system hasn't yet crushed all the humanity it nurtures.
Concerned citizens are currently rallying together to help find a missing 3-year-old girl, while enhanced security measures are in place for a visit by Donald Trump at the US Open Final. Yet, amidst these events, the author's focus remains on the "girls without skin."
The author admits to experiencing deep compassion for these individuals, without regret for feeling their pain. Compassion fatigue is avoided by not defending against compassion, but by actively listening to it. This approach has led to moments of profound connection, such as when the author cried tears of joy and sent a video to one of the "girls without skin" they love.
In the Opinion section of Le Devoir, the author published a text that tells the story of the "girls without skin," but the author of this particular piece remains unidentified in the available search results. The author wonders why a simple thing, like a system or institutional skin, isn't offered to these individuals who so desperately need it.
As the city prepares for an exhibition to trace the history of Place Émilie-Gamelin through the lens of homelessness, the author calls for a similar examination of the experiences of the "girls without skin." These individuals are not all the same; they include boys, trans people, and others who struggle with identity issues, often using seductive behavior to navigate their world.
The author's main "tool" in dealing with these individuals is compassion, despite disliking the term. It is a heart-shaped trampoline, a beacon of hope, that propels the author to continue bouncing back, helping these individuals to inhabit the truth of their own identity and, in doing so, illuminating the flaws and blind spots in society.
