For the birth of my child, I was sent away in disgrace. I was banished for bringing shame on my family, a shame so powerful all parental decency was flung aside, cast off along with my baby. I was 17 and unmarried. ‘No one wants soiled goods,’ my father said. This was 1964.
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My fate as family scapegoat was sealed. I was duly held responsible for all the bad things that happened, including the ill health and subsequent death of the mother I loved so much. She died shortly after I returned home, empty-handed as instructed.