What Broke Me Open: After Watching Straw

I watched Straw and didn’t expect to come undone. But I did. Quietly. Deeply. Completely.
Because what I saw wasn’t just a movie — it was a mirror.
And in that mirror, I saw myself:
A woman carrying everything alone. A mother expected to keep going. A soul that’s been stretched, torn, stitched, and stretched again.

Straw didn’t just show a single mom — it showed the emotional weight of being strong for everyone and still feeling invisible.
It reminded me of the nights I’ve cried silently because I didn’t want to wake my babies.
The times I smiled when I was breaking inside.
The days I walked into offices, courtrooms, schools, and hospitals with my back straight and my heart in pieces.

That movie cracked something I didn’t know was still fragile in me.

And it told the truth:
That some of us are holding entire households, entire dreams, entire generations… while silently praying someone, anyone, would hold us.

I watched that mother in the film lose everything — not because she didn’t love her child, but because the weight was too much and the world gave her no grace.

And I cried because I’ve been her.
Maybe not in the same way, but in soul.
I know what it feels like to scream into silence.
To carry guilt for not having more.
To feel like love is never enough when what you really need is rest, help, or just a moment to fall apart.

This is what broke me open — and maybe what’s been quietly breaking me for a long time.

But here’s what I know now:

I’m not the only one.

There are mothers, daughters, aunties, and grandmothers in this city holding things together with borrowed strength and unspoken prayers.
And we deserve more than survival. We deserve to be seen, supported, and sustained.

That’s why I’m rebuilding.

That’s why this nonprofit isn’t just about houses — it’s about healing.
It’s about rebuilding the parts of us that no one clapped for.
It’s about naming the weight and then laying bricks with love anyway.

If no one’s ever told you this, I will:
You’re not weak for feeling heavy.
You’re not broken for needing help.
You’re not alone.

Let this be the start — for me, and maybe for you too.
A beginning born from what broke me open.

With love,
Written from the heart of
Elnoro Perrilla Shanta Winston
Granddaughter of Woodrow Bolls Jr., Mother of Three,
and Founder of Rebuilding Vicksburg From the Inside Out

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Let’s rebuild what they forgot.
Let’s heal what they left behind.
Let’s rise — together