Tag: violence

Enervated

MissMLeave a comment

*TW: Rape*

“Your Body, My Choice.” The anthem that young men are already splattering all over womens’ online content – a mere 2 days after the election. The fear burning inside me is the same fear I felt the first time I was sexually assaulted, nearly 10 years ago. I write to cope, and the narrative below serves as a sort of emotional bloodletting. Please do not read further if you feel that this content will be harmful to you at this time, and know that extend my deepest compassion and support. I see you, I feel for you, my heart breaks alongside you. There is no happy ending or silver lining to this story.

Me: “Okay fine, I’ll come over. But JUST to watch a movie. Promise nothing else will happen.”

Him: “Of course not, cutie!”

His house is nice; well-kept. The couch is made of that fake, cheap leather. Sleek, but not the type for watching movies on. I’m wearing my favorite Victoria’s Secret PINK jacket with a black bra underneath and yoga pants. He guides me to the couch and offers me a drink. Crown Royal Green Apple and 7-up. Not my first choice, but beggars can’t be choosers. In 6 months, I’ll be old enough to enter the holy temple of the State Liquor Store and select my own libations. He pads to the kitchen to fix me a cocktail while I browse the DVDs shelved on his entertainment system.

He wants to watch Transformers. Again, not my first choice, but maybe the buzz from my drink will help me enjoy it more. I sip.

My head is spinning. I shakily set my empty glass on the side table. My arm is heavy and stiff as a brick. I lay my head in his lap and vigorously fight my heavy eyelids. I lose.

Some time later, he hoists me over his shoulder in a fireman carry. I am jolted awake, my head hanging low. I notice I’ve been drooling. I mumble something.

He has a creaky metal bed frame. He tosses me on the mattress like I’m weightless. Rips the zipper of my jacket down. Exposes my bra. I whimper.

My vision is blurry. He violently peels my yoga pants off of me. His thumbnails scratch my hips. I can’t breathe.

He sticks his head between my virgin thighs and my heart stops beating. Why am I not fighting? Flying? What’s the 3rd option again? Freeze?

I freeze.

He’s on his feet now. He cracks open the door and a sliver of light slips in. I feel my eyes widen.

The crinkling of a wrapper. He slides himself into a condom and slides that into me. I yelp. A tear rolls down my temple. I wonder how much longer this will take.

He grunts and moans in my ear, and then pushes himself off and out of me. “It broke,” he gasps.

My brows furrow. What. broke.

Now he’s the one with panic in his eyes. He disappears again. Bathroom, I presume.

It takes all of my strength and focus to pull my yoga pants back up over my hips. He left them around my ankles.

He lays down next to me and slings his arm around my waist. He kisses me on the cheek. I hate spooning.

My eyes defy me once more. Hours pass.

It’s 5:02 AM, according to the harsh, green light emitting from his alarm clock across the room. I’m alert – clear, even.

I delicately slide out from under his arm, which is still slung heavily around my waist. He’s snoring. I pinch my jacket off the floor and slide my arms into it and then close the door so gently the door knob barely clicks.

I zip up my jacket and frantically search the dark living room for my phone and purse. One last door knob to safety. I grip it.

“Don’t you want to stay for breakfast?” My cheeks turn red hot.

He pulls me in by the waist and rests his chin on my shoulder.

-M.

Denunciation

MissM1 Comment

I’ve heard a lot of bullshit regarding the ousting of sexual predators disguised as prominent and powerful men (i.e. a lot of hoopla from dudes exclaiming just how scary it is to be a man nowadays, The War On Men, etc.). I’m not quite sure which I find most disturbing-the sheer number of celebrity men finally being called out for their sexual offenses, or some of the reactions to these allegations from normal, everyday dudes.

I get it, you’re shocked. You don’t want to believe that someone as likable as Louis C.K. (your favorite comedian!!) ACTUALLY masturbated in front of numerous women. Or maybe you can’t believe that these women finally spoke out. Or worse, maybe you can’t believe that actions like his could potentially result in consequences.

I don’t speak for all women, nor would I ever attempt to, but I personally was not shocked, because I know that these things happen. And I know that oftentimes, the offender is someone you would have never expected.

You see, it’s scary being a woman every day. As girls, we learn very quickly where our place is in society, and that it’s safer and smarter to submit to the men who have power over us than to fight back or speak up. The brave women who have spoken up against their abusers over the past few months gain nothing from doing so, except for possibly allowing their perpetrators to victimize another woman.

And don’t give me that nonsense about “false accusations,” because only 2% of rape cases turn out to be false, which is no higher than any other alleged crime, according to the FBI. And if you ARE worried about facing a false accusation, why not just ensure that you’re conducting yourself in a manner that could never be misconstrued as sexual harassment? It’s not scary to be a man nowadays. Y’all still hold the majority of systemic power. It’s scary to be a sexual predator. So make your life easier by just not being one. Problem solved.

Finally, we’re being listened to. And furthermore, action is being taken against these malicious men. And if that’s not reason to rejoice, then I don’t know what is.

Frankly, if you’ve ever sexually assaulted another human being, I want you to be afraid. I want you to be looking over your shoulder all the time, anticipating a consequence that could ruin your career even, like you ruined your victim’s sense of safety.

In a perfect world, we’d identify all these perpetrators and put them behind bars so that perhaps one day, women would be free to explore their world without the constant, inhibitory fear that we could be harmed, raped, or killed at any moment by someone who can easily overpower us. Maybe one day, we can go for a jog at night, after the sun sets, and not worry about the possibility of our own 20/20 episode.

M.