Birth
Like every story mine began with a struggle.
I was born on January 7 1994 to Barbara Ann McLean and Godofredo Salvadori Lopez Fernandez.
I was born in a snow storm in the middle of winter. My mother had to be taken to the hospital by my
grandparents in their car to the emergency at St. Josephs. I was born with a heart murmur and I had
died three times on the operating table but was saved by a doctor who would not give up on me. Then
I was placed in an incubator because not enough oxygen was going to my lungs and brain. I was the
biggest baby there at 9'2 ounces and I was the most quite but yet the most in pain but I fought on. I had
to enter heart surgery because if I didn't my mother was told I would die, so my mother was taken to
Sick Kids in downtown Toronto by a heart specialist by the name of Michele Helabit.The surgery was 6
to 7 hours long and after it was done I was kept under care for 3 days in pediatrics, but eventually was
taken home. As my eyes struggled to open and see the voice of my grandmothers singing and the pain
in her song could be heard in my ears for she was singing to
keep my heart beating and the angels were singing with her. When I first saw the light it was so bright
that it blinded my eyes and the confusion of the hospital room rang in my delicate ears but what also
rang in my ears that day and what was seen in my eyes for the first time was - love. Just like there is a
struggle in every story there is also a miracle which changes the story forever, and this is where my
story begins........
Childhood
My childhood was rough, there was more tears then moments of laughter.
Ever since I could remember I lived with abuse. One of my first memories was holding on to the edge
of my crib watching my father brutally attack and beat my mother, and all I remember is not being able
to make it stop.
I was raped as a child since as early as 3 or 4 and I was molested since I was a newborn which began
after I was kidnapped from a day care center for kids and babies by my father over money for drugs,
which lasted over 5 months until he was arrested and spent time in jail. I was also attacked by other
members of my father's family and even outside of my family. It left me with a lot of pain as a child that
still keeps me up at night. My mother was a born again Christian and she came from a white Scottish
family and my father was originally from El Salvador in South America and he was into Satanism, which
brought many problems.
I had lived on the streets countless times as a child but the first time was when I was 1 years old, when
my father threw my mother, me and my brother out the door. We were homeless for about 1 or 2 years
it was hard to be exposed to extreme poverty and suffering at a young age but as I would one day see
it was a part of God's plan. We had moved from home to home and everywhere we went my father
would find us and we would be on the run. A few years down the road when I was about 4 or 5 I had
gone into Foster care because my mother couldn't protect me and my siblings( this was after my first
sister Venicia was born).My brother had told a teacher at school about the abuse that went on at home
and Children's Aid took us away. All I could remember was the pain in my brother’s eyes still to this day
he still is the same boy who once cried because he didn't want to go into Foster care. I fought against
the police as they tried to put me in the police car my brother
and sister were
already taken into police cars and were gone. But I didn't go without a fight and I was brutally beaten
by the police and pepper spray was sprayed in my eyes and handcuffs were also put on me, but I still
kept fighting and screaming I didn't want them to win and I wasn't about to give in without striking fear
into their hearts. I was placed into the hospital by the police that day but I escaped at night and ran
away. I lived
on the streets and I sold my body as a prostitute, I started using drugs and
I began to drink alcohol and I got into streets fights for money against other street children. When I
was found eventually by the police I was
taken to a catholic church because they thought that the holy church could help me but after I was
raped by a priest just like my own dad had been as well I swore to never come back so once again I ran
away but just as
before I was picked up by the police and I was taken back to my
Foster home. Betty was my foster mother and Ray was her husband. Betty was a cruel woman who
would violently abuse me like my father did before; while Ray was a man of respect and honor he had
protected me
and my siblings. I had also been the victim of a car crash while under care and I and my brother were
sent to the hospital. My brother was in a coma and I was paralyzed and I almost lost both of my legs.
When we finally came back home after my mother and others fought in the courts to
get us back from care it had added up to 1 1/2 years almost 2 years.
I was then 6 or 7 (and around the same time my last and final sister was born).The first few months
back under my mother's care was difficult
and around the same time my parents also had under gone separation
which lasted 7 years until I was no longer a child but on my way to becoming a young woman. At that
point in my life I was going the wrong direction and I was going away from God and depression and
mental illness was consuming my life. I started becoming a bully and I started getting involved with
gangs when I was in grade 6 and I began to
harm myself by cutting my arms and legs and by starving myself for days and days on end. It was a
difficult position to be in and I felt I couldn't get out. I was never the world's perfect daughter who
came home with straight A's and with lots of friends, I always was in trouble or I always had to leave the
classroom. It was lonely. I grew up in the ghetto
around the corner from the school I went to as a child - Ryerson Community Public School. I never felt
safe at school or home but at least
school was somewhere home was nowhere. It was hard growing up in the ghetto but just like my home
it was the only place I had at that time. It taught me a lot as well as gave me nightmares but from the
chaos I
learned truly what it meant to be free. You see the woman came out of the
girl, the warrior came out of the sufferer and hence forth the beginning of
change in Brigitte Fernandez November 14 at 9:06am
Recent Years
"From the furnace he shaped my heart out of ashes and stone and from his word my tongue shall
never be parched for the thirst of life but I will be well for it is by my Lord's mercy that I have come to
these words to say".
After a seed dies another is planted. Even though the seed which was first plated as a child was that of
abuse, the seed which came from that was the seed which I plant right now and that the seed which
God planted and it’s the seed of a second chance and of forgiveness.
After spending 3 months in the physic ward I came out with a new mind because I was offered a chance
to go into treatment and to get mentally better so that was the road I took in hopes that I would
recover and gain freedom and until this day this is the road I am continuing to walk down.
The road to recovery in both myself and the wounded world that once surrounded me.
I now attend Delisle Day Program and I'm currently taking World Religions
and Art and hopefully one day I can pursue one of them as a career.
I am going to Sketch were I continue to make beautiful artwork and find happiness and I also attend
Sanctuary which another art drop in which I have received much blessings and love from.
I have started to rediscover my Native roots and it is helping me to find who I am as an artist and as a
young woman of God.
Why Do I Create Art..........IT'S NOT I THAT CREATES THE UNIVERSE OF IMAGINATION AND THE UNITY OF
ONE'S VISION TO THE COMPLEXITIES OF THE REALMS OF TIME AND SPACE BUT IT IS THE WORK OF THE
ONE DIVINE FOR ALL THAT I HAVE CREATED HAS ALREADY BEEN FORMED AND ALL THAT I SPEAK HAS
ALREADY BEEN SPOKEN.
Like every story mine began with a struggle.
I was born on January 7 1994 to Barbara Ann McLean and Godofredo Salvadori Lopez Fernandez.
I was born in a snow storm in the middle of winter. My mother had to be taken to the hospital by my
grandparents in their car to the emergency at St. Josephs. I was born with a heart murmur and I had
died three times on the operating table but was saved by a doctor who would not give up on me. Then
I was placed in an incubator because not enough oxygen was going to my lungs and brain. I was the
biggest baby there at 9'2 ounces and I was the most quite but yet the most in pain but I fought on. I had
to enter heart surgery because if I didn't my mother was told I would die, so my mother was taken to
Sick Kids in downtown Toronto by a heart specialist by the name of Michele Helabit.The surgery was 6
to 7 hours long and after it was done I was kept under care for 3 days in pediatrics, but eventually was
taken home. As my eyes struggled to open and see the voice of my grandmothers singing and the pain
in her song could be heard in my ears for she was singing to
keep my heart beating and the angels were singing with her. When I first saw the light it was so bright
that it blinded my eyes and the confusion of the hospital room rang in my delicate ears but what also
rang in my ears that day and what was seen in my eyes for the first time was - love. Just like there is a
struggle in every story there is also a miracle which changes the story forever, and this is where my
story begins........
Childhood
My childhood was rough, there was more tears then moments of laughter.
Ever since I could remember I lived with abuse. One of my first memories was holding on to the edge
of my crib watching my father brutally attack and beat my mother, and all I remember is not being able
to make it stop.
I was raped as a child since as early as 3 or 4 and I was molested since I was a newborn which began
after I was kidnapped from a day care center for kids and babies by my father over money for drugs,
which lasted over 5 months until he was arrested and spent time in jail. I was also attacked by other
members of my father's family and even outside of my family. It left me with a lot of pain as a child that
still keeps me up at night. My mother was a born again Christian and she came from a white Scottish
family and my father was originally from El Salvador in South America and he was into Satanism, which
brought many problems.
I had lived on the streets countless times as a child but the first time was when I was 1 years old, when
my father threw my mother, me and my brother out the door. We were homeless for about 1 or 2 years
it was hard to be exposed to extreme poverty and suffering at a young age but as I would one day see
it was a part of God's plan. We had moved from home to home and everywhere we went my father
would find us and we would be on the run. A few years down the road when I was about 4 or 5 I had
gone into Foster care because my mother couldn't protect me and my siblings( this was after my first
sister Venicia was born).My brother had told a teacher at school about the abuse that went on at home
and Children's Aid took us away. All I could remember was the pain in my brother’s eyes still to this day
he still is the same boy who once cried because he didn't want to go into Foster care. I fought against
the police as they tried to put me in the police car my brother
and sister were
already taken into police cars and were gone. But I didn't go without a fight and I was brutally beaten
by the police and pepper spray was sprayed in my eyes and handcuffs were also put on me, but I still
kept fighting and screaming I didn't want them to win and I wasn't about to give in without striking fear
into their hearts. I was placed into the hospital by the police that day but I escaped at night and ran
away. I lived
on the streets and I sold my body as a prostitute, I started using drugs and
I began to drink alcohol and I got into streets fights for money against other street children. When I
was found eventually by the police I was
taken to a catholic church because they thought that the holy church could help me but after I was
raped by a priest just like my own dad had been as well I swore to never come back so once again I ran
away but just as
before I was picked up by the police and I was taken back to my
Foster home. Betty was my foster mother and Ray was her husband. Betty was a cruel woman who
would violently abuse me like my father did before; while Ray was a man of respect and honor he had
protected me
and my siblings. I had also been the victim of a car crash while under care and I and my brother were
sent to the hospital. My brother was in a coma and I was paralyzed and I almost lost both of my legs.
When we finally came back home after my mother and others fought in the courts to
get us back from care it had added up to 1 1/2 years almost 2 years.
I was then 6 or 7 (and around the same time my last and final sister was born).The first few months
back under my mother's care was difficult
and around the same time my parents also had under gone separation
which lasted 7 years until I was no longer a child but on my way to becoming a young woman. At that
point in my life I was going the wrong direction and I was going away from God and depression and
mental illness was consuming my life. I started becoming a bully and I started getting involved with
gangs when I was in grade 6 and I began to
harm myself by cutting my arms and legs and by starving myself for days and days on end. It was a
difficult position to be in and I felt I couldn't get out. I was never the world's perfect daughter who
came home with straight A's and with lots of friends, I always was in trouble or I always had to leave the
classroom. It was lonely. I grew up in the ghetto
around the corner from the school I went to as a child - Ryerson Community Public School. I never felt
safe at school or home but at least
school was somewhere home was nowhere. It was hard growing up in the ghetto but just like my home
it was the only place I had at that time. It taught me a lot as well as gave me nightmares but from the
chaos I
learned truly what it meant to be free. You see the woman came out of the
girl, the warrior came out of the sufferer and hence forth the beginning of
change in Brigitte Fernandez November 14 at 9:06am
Recent Years
"From the furnace he shaped my heart out of ashes and stone and from his word my tongue shall
never be parched for the thirst of life but I will be well for it is by my Lord's mercy that I have come to
these words to say".
After a seed dies another is planted. Even though the seed which was first plated as a child was that of
abuse, the seed which came from that was the seed which I plant right now and that the seed which
God planted and it’s the seed of a second chance and of forgiveness.
After spending 3 months in the physic ward I came out with a new mind because I was offered a chance
to go into treatment and to get mentally better so that was the road I took in hopes that I would
recover and gain freedom and until this day this is the road I am continuing to walk down.
The road to recovery in both myself and the wounded world that once surrounded me.
I now attend Delisle Day Program and I'm currently taking World Religions
and Art and hopefully one day I can pursue one of them as a career.
I am going to Sketch were I continue to make beautiful artwork and find happiness and I also attend
Sanctuary which another art drop in which I have received much blessings and love from.
I have started to rediscover my Native roots and it is helping me to find who I am as an artist and as a
young woman of God.
Why Do I Create Art..........IT'S NOT I THAT CREATES THE UNIVERSE OF IMAGINATION AND THE UNITY OF
ONE'S VISION TO THE COMPLEXITIES OF THE REALMS OF TIME AND SPACE BUT IT IS THE WORK OF THE
ONE DIVINE FOR ALL THAT I HAVE CREATED HAS ALREADY BEEN FORMED AND ALL THAT I SPEAK HAS
ALREADY BEEN SPOKEN.
Brigitte Fernandez
