You understood exactly what I hoped Whiskey Chaser would be, not just a personal story, but a record, a reckoning, and a reminder of how history still lives in our bones. I wanted readers to feel the weight of those systems, to see that what happened to one child was never isolated; it was built into the architecture of neglect that colonialism left behind.
Your words about compassion mean a lot to me. It took years to be able to hold space for the people who failed me, to tell the truth without becoming it. And your reflection, about seeing folks on the street differently, that’s everything. That’s the heart of why I wrote this book.
Thank you for reading. For holding space for my words, and for seeing me.
You understood exactly what I hoped Whiskey Chaser would be, not just a personal story, but a record, a reckoning, and a reminder of how history still lives in our bones. I wanted readers to feel the weight of those systems, to see that what happened to one child was never isolated; it was built into the architecture of neglect that colonialism left behind.
Your words about compassion mean a lot to me. It took years to be able to hold space for the people who failed me, to tell the truth without becoming it. And your reflection, about seeing folks on the street differently, that’s everything. That’s the heart of why I wrote this book.
Thank you for reading. For holding space for my words, and for seeing me.
With gratitude,
Hazel Briar
Set fire to silence.