I let them off the hook

When is it enough? When is it bad enough? Day after day we endure micro traumas, day after day we are reminded how un-safe we are as women. Day after day we see sexual predators get away (sometimes literally) with murder. Court case after court case we see the victim get vilified and blamed for the attack, and always we are told we must worry about the reputation, the future, the life of the perp...meanwhile our lives are forfeit, apparently.

So when is it enough for us to get justice, for us to get compassion, for us to not be asked what it was we did wrong to cause the attack? And when do we get a fucking break? When is it we don't have to grip our car keys like a weapon as we walk alone to our car, when do we get to chat with some man in the elevator without having to worry that he has taken it the "wrong way" and will follow us to our apartment, when will we be able to walk down the street without some man commenting on our body and knowing we better not talk back or we'll "get what we deserve"?

I've been having trouble acknowledging both the seriousness (vileness?), and the impact of various incidents of varying levels of fucked-upness. Hell, I still can't call them what they are; they have always been the "incidents" or "weirdness" or just "that thing with (so and so)". And because I couldn't allow myself to name them for what they are, even though they felt like violations I've had this internal battle of shame, self-doubt, this endless tug-of-war of the Judges in my head saying "it wasn't that bad" and my Spirit saying "Fuck me, I was violated."

And as I dig a little deeper some things are finally falling into place. I was letting these men off the hook, because I have been expertly trained in taking care of everyone else's feelings/needs/wants to the detriment of myself. I let him off the hook. "He didn't know," I've told myself. "I wasn't forceful enough," I've told myself. "I should have fought harder," "I should have known what he was up to and gotten out of the situation sooner", "I never should have trusted him in the first place then I wouldn't have been alone with him" I've told myself. Shit, I've even told myself I should have thought to kill myself since nothing else I tried got me out of the situation. The facts didn't matter because I do not have as much value as them, AND it was more important for me to have no feelings and needs, to be the care taker, to be the one to take the blame, to be the depository for their shitty emotions and deeds; and for Them to have Their needs/wants met, their feelings protected, to be respected.

Here is the reality: My clear boundaries have been disrespected.  My agency has been disrespected. My very existence has been disrespected. And if I dared confront or fight the most common response: "Whats wrong with you? I was just joking." There is no joke in violating someone's body. There is no joke in threatening to assault someone. 

Letting go of that fucked up care-taker bullshit that I didn't even realize was there starts to allow me to see a little more clearly. Recognizing that maybe I should have as much value as everyone else allows me to see a little more clearly. Sharing my stories and having my sisters reflect to me how fucked up those situations are, and that helps me to see a little more clearly. Maybe if my sisters and I keep sharing our stories and lifting each other up we can raise our voices loud enough and everyone will know that enough-is-enough, we are done tolerated the bad behavior, we are done minimizing our situations, we are done letting Them off the hook, and we are done with staying silent.