Just like the
Freedom a lie,
In the land of
Stolen from life,
Forced to live
No longer human,
A bought toy
Forced to endure.
No one sees
What is left of me.
Except a commodity.
(Just a note)
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I read something last week that has been bouncing around in my head. As I was not planning to write about it, I did not save the blog link, or I would refer to it. I enjoy reading and on any given day read a dozen different blogs. Most do not stick around taking up head space. This one did. The gist of the blog was that though it had been a bad year, perhaps it was not as awful as it seemed. It spoke about how we are exposing ourselves to news in a constant barrage. The blog likened it to an assault on the senses. Now it is that idea that has been bouncing.
Is the level of available information a bad thing? As a writer I enjoy being able to research anything whenever I want. However, I have had days where opening social media was oppressive. Simply because of the horrible things man does to each other. I remember that my grandma did not watch the news and did not read the paper. She was able to be blissfully ignorant unless she chose otherwise. She was one of the most intelligent people I have ever known. Now we assault ourselves with the news and wonder why we are depressed. I can’t help but think that there must be a better way.
so this time of year it is so hard for many people. I often feel like it is the worst because of the expectations we are put under to be nice to people who we can’t stand the rest of the year. Or the fact that we are separate from the ones that we love and have no way to remedy this. Sometimes it is just the weather changes and the sickness that seems to linger about making it even more difficult to be social. I just wanted to reach out and say that you are not alone. If this is a difficult time for you, reach out. There is always someone who you matter too… Whether you know it or not. And in the holidays we some times forget about telling the ones around us how much we care. For some the inner voice is not a kind thing. Trust me when I say that you are not alone. ❤
Those who don’t know me may not understand this. I am a pacifist. I really and honestly believe that violence does not solve anything. To my mind, violence only exacerbates any situation and makes it worse. That being said, I am deeply worried about the state of affairs in the United States. I feel like we went from the melting pot to the boiling pot overnight. I worry that the suicide rates will go up with this revelation of the new president and of the hardships we as a nation will be facing for the next four years. Don’t get me wrong. I am scared. But allowing fear to overtake me solves nothing.
We have to recover from the shock, and start to put our brains to use. This country is still the same, even if it feels different. There is laws to prevent the abuse I am seeing reports of on social media. There are places still to assist you if you are in danger. No one has the right to harm another person, no matter what the people who follow the hate believe. Practice Kindness. It is needed now more than ever. Do art! Please put more beauty into this ugly world. Speak and write truth, even if it is disguised as fiction. We have so much ugly in the world, that many believe that is how things have to be…show them that it is only one way. Violence is NEVER the answer, and we as a species need to find out what is. Please be good to each other. ❤
So I am not an easily triggered person, usually. However, here lately social media has been testing the limits. Several times I have opened Facebook and found articles about children dying because they were raped. Then there are the articles about rapists getting nearly no punishment for what they have done. So then I take to Twitter, which is usually a little bit more light-hearted. Until the presidential election. Then there started a new hashtag. #WhyWomenDontReport. Well, that is a huge can of worms. It caused me to discuss this with Joe.
He said that most of the women who he knows, or has known have been either raped or molested. Then as we were talking about it, he considered. Of the twenty women who he was intimate with, he said he was unable to say for sure on four. The rest were survivors. That is not even a random statistic. That is women who he was with.
I was floored by that. So I posted on Facebook. (So there is a thing on Twitter… #whyIdidntreport
I DID REPORT! At least the first time. I was told that I was a liar. Not all rapes go unreported, some people speak and go unheard. I didn’t speak of the second time because I knew I wouldn’t be believed.) I had several of my friends express similar situations. Think on this, according to Google, one in three women are raped in their lifetime. Yes men are also raped, but I am not speaking of them, not yet anyway. So 1/3 of all women. We as a people need to address this… That is a huge issue.
Add to the issue the ignorance of Trump’s “locker room talk” and the treatment of the victims by those who have the power to change things. Is it any wonder that sexual assault is the least reported crime? We make it hard for the scared to overcome the fear instilled by violence to step into a safe place… And I for one am tired of that. I was raped at fourteen and molested as a small child. I am not a statistic. I am not a victim. I am not allowing Rape culture to break me. I speak my truth, and invite you to do the same.
Okay, this is not an easy thing for me to write. I am a firm believer in teaching children about their bodies and teaching consent. What that means is teaching a child that their bodies belong only to them. No forcing the child to give unwanted hugs, no ignoring discomfort with affection. Teach girls about what is natural for their bodies. Oh I realize that eventually most have to explain the whole puberty thing. But if you make no topic taboo, then if there is something wrong, your child is not afraid to speak up.
There are several reasons why this is a tough topic , and why it is such an important one. I was molested. He convinced me that no one would believe me. My mom was so uncomfortable with some topics that she couldn’t discuss them… Puberty was not a easy time (I was given a pamphlet and told to go to my room to read it.) So when I finally worked up the courage to speak, well he was right. I was not believed. So when I had my own daughter, I swore I would do things differently. I don’t allow anyone to force affection. We don’t have secrets. If she has a question about anything, I try to answer it. So at twelve years old, I had tried to run away from home three times. She feels safe. I was sexually active at twelve and pregnant at thirteen. She has said that she is not ready for a boyfriend and really is not wanting to have sex anytime soon. She is a smart and sensitive girl who is learning how to be sarcastic and funny, not as a defense mechanism like I did….but because she enjoys laughing. I have been told that I should be less open with her because people were uncomfortable with how honest I am with my twelve year old. I let her ask questions and I refuse to lie. I will not apologize for my doing what I felt was right for any of my children. Even if I fail at all else I do in life, I have a smart funny happy girl.
Some one I care very deeply for was upset because she couldn’t face someone who had abused her. Well I got to thinking about that. Fear is a healthy reaction to danger. If you have ever survived any form of abuse, you understand that. I am a survivor. I have been raped, molested, beaten. I have been in abusive relationships. I am not now, because I found my way out of that darkness. I don’t think I could be brave enough to face those who abused me. When I tried to stand up, and tell someone…. Well I was not believed. I was told I was lying. Even though I showed the signs of the abuse. So when I was raped by a group of five at thirteen, Fear kept me silent. Fear turned into the backbone I needed to become who I am. So I would not be a victim again. However, even as strong as I have become, I doubt that I could face my molester or the five who raped me. And if I did, I doubt that I would have anything to say. The piece of me that was stolen is gone. I am not that girl anymore. Nor do I want to be. So I will keep my fear, as it strengthens me. It allows me to realize that there are really monsters out there. It allows me a chance to know that I won’t break, for life has tried. Be proud of what you are, and do not hide your truth. For that is what made you.