**** Trigger warning****
On September 23, 2018 I wrote the following article for my blog. It was an emotional time for me. I didn't post it. Instead I sent it to a few online publications. Millions of articles went out to hundreds of print and web based news outlets. Mine became just one more. Think about that for a minute as you consider how many more incidents have hit the news since September 23rd.
I've been finishing the first draft of my 365 day memoir, revisiting all of my accomplishments in a single afternoon. It was quite a year and I've had quite the life. I also have a sense of self that's given me the strength to share who I have always been. I am proud. I am who I am with no apologies. I'm sharing the original post as I intended to publish it.
I hope it helps you see. I wish I had answers for all of the questions when it comes to the denigration of human beings. Maybe if we judged less and loved more some things might change.
Love & Light
Pussy grabbing and rape
I've been pretty quiet for the last year, but I have been listening.
I've also been fishing and as I was casting my line today I was struck by a few things. First, I was trying to understand how the fine thread on my pole could get tangled by a wriggling creature on the hook.
It's confusing and I spent twenty minutes fighting the knot in this twisted mess. I was frustrated even more so because I walked out of my house this morning tangled on the inside. I read a few articles about the GOP's best candidate for the supreme court.
The best of the best is accused of rape. It makes sense since the best candidate for president is a pussy grabbing narcissistic misogynist. No big deal, turn away because if I don't see it it didn't happen and boys will be boys. I wasn't tangled up about the predictable lack of humanity in these two people, I was most affected by the lack of understanding for the survivors who have come forward to confront them.
I have been thinking about why people who are raped and assaulted might not share this with anyone let alone law enforcement.
Here's my take on it as a 50 year old bisexual woman who was also violently raped by a family friend.
I never told anyone.
I didn't call the police and I had plenty of bruises and cuts on my skin. I hid all of those injuries in a "bicycle accident." What I couldn't do was hide from myself.
In my inexperienced 15 year old mind I was damaged. I was just a girl trying to figure out who I was and how I was and suddenly everything good had tangled and nothing felt right.
When you ask why a rape survivor is silent, you've clearly never been raped. Silence is armor or it feels like it. The first time you step out in public, which could be walking out of your own bedroom, the fear of being recognized as different is overwhelming. Saying nothing creates a sense of control that has been stripped from who you are.
"Can they tell that I'm different just by looking at me?" Every part of who you are is twisted and gnarled and never the same. I have never been the same.
It's been almost 35 years and I can remember the color of his shirt. I can remember blood and I can remember the metal of his belt buckle cutting my skin. I can also remember the hundreds of lies that I told family and friends to hide the permanent scars to my soul. Shame is the worst characteristic to lead with, so masks become a strategy for survival.
So if you have to ask why we didn't tell, you're lucky.