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Warning for language
May. 12th, 2010 04:25 amI've just read some of the stuff about WisCon. To be honest, I could care less about what happened. What has me in a mind numbing, eye bleeding, sitting still shaking hard, too afraid to move beyond my hands or say anything because of how I will explode, RAGE is what some people (one in particular) is saying about victims.
Apparently, silence is not saying no, and therefore, should be able to be construed as yes.
NO. NO. And again, I say, GOD DAMN IT TO FUCKING HELL, NO!
Silence is not a yes. Do you know what constitutes a yes? An actual YES.
And what consitutes a no? ANYTHING THAT IS NOT A YES.
A lot of you out there have read some of the things I've dealt with in my past. Just in case you didn't, here's the short version:
When I was around nine or so, a man came into the ladies' bathroom at a grocery store I was at. My daddy had been teaching me self defense for years, and when this man cornered me in the bathroom with his underwear around his ankles, I FROZE. I didn't do anything I'd been taught. I remember saying "No" quite loudly when this man told me to "be a good girl and be quiet", and seeing how he reacted to my loud no, I started screaming my fool head off. Luckily, he left. I look back on it now, and there are so many things he could have done to me to get me to shut up. I was a nine year old, four foot seven inch, 72 pound girl. He was a grown man. Thank God, THANK GOD, he left. My mom is a nurse and a rape victim. My daddy started teaching me self defense at age five so that I could protect myself. You'd think that with that kind of background, I would have been able to come forward, yes?
Wrong. I was so ashamed and absolutely convinced it was my fault that I didn't say anything for two years. After all, there were so many things I (thought I) could have done that I didn't do. I didn't want to admit that my daddy's efforts had all been for naught. When I finally told my mom, she asked if I would be willing to tell the police. I said yes, she called them, they listened to me talk, and then the lady said something I will never forget: "It's a shame she didn't say anything sooner. After two years, we'll probably never catch him." To be fair, I don't remember if I was still in the room or not- I remember the words, I remember that she said it to my mom, but I don't know where I was. But that has haunted me for years. What if I'd said something as soon as it happened? What if, because I didn't, he's done that to other girls- and succeeded?
When I was twelve, I was walking home from the bus stop, and a guy who lived in my neighborhood- who had already threated my friend with rape- told me that if we didn't stop raising the shit storm we were working hard on raising, he would rape me. And if I said anything, he would kill my little brother. You'd think I would have learned from the previous experience, but no. This time, I kept my mouth shut for two weeks, before confiding in my friend's mom (the same friend who'd been threatened by the guy). Friend's mom came to talk to my mom and I and after that, I'm not entirely sure of what happened.
That's something I've been fairly upfront about on Live Journal. (I've posted it at least twice.) Here's a lesser known one for you.
Fast forward some years. I'm in a traveling drama ministry. A MINISTRY. I've torn ligaments in my ankle (we didn't know that at this point, though- all we knew was that my ankle was swollen bad), and I had to ride home in a full van. Normally, my friend and I would have taken the back seat, and I would have propped my ankle up in her lap. However, most of the seats had been taken, and I wound up in the very back seat with a guy that I had previously felt very comfortable with. A guy that I'd felt so comfortable with, in fact, that he knew my issues with guys and why I have them- specifically with the fact that I have had to deal with these things (and still count myself DAMN lucky that I've only had to deal with threats). I'm in the backseat, and my ankle is propped up in his lap. I'm comfortable enough, I trust him enough, and I'm tired enough that I fall asleep.
I woke up with his hands in "a no-no place".
I didn't know what to do. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. The smart thing, of course, would have been to sit up straight, pull my ankle out of his lap, and insist that he stop- and report it to the leaders of the ministry.
Instead, I froze. FROZE. I was nineteen years old, and suddenly, I was back to being nine years old in the bathroom, being told to be a good girl and be quiet.
Two days later, I finally got up the nerve to talk to my friend about it, and she accompanied me to one of the leaders of the ministry, as I shared what happened. But if I hadn't had this friend in my life, this friend that believed me even though she hadn't seen anything, I wouldn't have done anything. (I would like to say upfront that I am not going to say anything that could say who this person was, and after discussion, he and I are friends again- the learders talked to him and explained WHY what he had done was unacceptable, and he and I talked about a week or so later and decided to move past it and start over with each other.)
So, according to some people, in that situation, I was not a victim, I was merely someone who expected people to read my mind.
No. And again I say, not just no, but hell no. Silence is not consent. Silence is silence. It is not consent, and it should never be counted as such. EVER.
Apparently, silence is not saying no, and therefore, should be able to be construed as yes.
NO. NO. And again, I say, GOD DAMN IT TO FUCKING HELL, NO!
Silence is not a yes. Do you know what constitutes a yes? An actual YES.
And what consitutes a no? ANYTHING THAT IS NOT A YES.
A lot of you out there have read some of the things I've dealt with in my past. Just in case you didn't, here's the short version:
When I was around nine or so, a man came into the ladies' bathroom at a grocery store I was at. My daddy had been teaching me self defense for years, and when this man cornered me in the bathroom with his underwear around his ankles, I FROZE. I didn't do anything I'd been taught. I remember saying "No" quite loudly when this man told me to "be a good girl and be quiet", and seeing how he reacted to my loud no, I started screaming my fool head off. Luckily, he left. I look back on it now, and there are so many things he could have done to me to get me to shut up. I was a nine year old, four foot seven inch, 72 pound girl. He was a grown man. Thank God, THANK GOD, he left. My mom is a nurse and a rape victim. My daddy started teaching me self defense at age five so that I could protect myself. You'd think that with that kind of background, I would have been able to come forward, yes?
Wrong. I was so ashamed and absolutely convinced it was my fault that I didn't say anything for two years. After all, there were so many things I (thought I) could have done that I didn't do. I didn't want to admit that my daddy's efforts had all been for naught. When I finally told my mom, she asked if I would be willing to tell the police. I said yes, she called them, they listened to me talk, and then the lady said something I will never forget: "It's a shame she didn't say anything sooner. After two years, we'll probably never catch him." To be fair, I don't remember if I was still in the room or not- I remember the words, I remember that she said it to my mom, but I don't know where I was. But that has haunted me for years. What if I'd said something as soon as it happened? What if, because I didn't, he's done that to other girls- and succeeded?
When I was twelve, I was walking home from the bus stop, and a guy who lived in my neighborhood- who had already threated my friend with rape- told me that if we didn't stop raising the shit storm we were working hard on raising, he would rape me. And if I said anything, he would kill my little brother. You'd think I would have learned from the previous experience, but no. This time, I kept my mouth shut for two weeks, before confiding in my friend's mom (the same friend who'd been threatened by the guy). Friend's mom came to talk to my mom and I and after that, I'm not entirely sure of what happened.
That's something I've been fairly upfront about on Live Journal. (I've posted it at least twice.) Here's a lesser known one for you.
Fast forward some years. I'm in a traveling drama ministry. A MINISTRY. I've torn ligaments in my ankle (we didn't know that at this point, though- all we knew was that my ankle was swollen bad), and I had to ride home in a full van. Normally, my friend and I would have taken the back seat, and I would have propped my ankle up in her lap. However, most of the seats had been taken, and I wound up in the very back seat with a guy that I had previously felt very comfortable with. A guy that I'd felt so comfortable with, in fact, that he knew my issues with guys and why I have them- specifically with the fact that I have had to deal with these things (and still count myself DAMN lucky that I've only had to deal with threats). I'm in the backseat, and my ankle is propped up in his lap. I'm comfortable enough, I trust him enough, and I'm tired enough that I fall asleep.
I woke up with his hands in "a no-no place".
I didn't know what to do. I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT TO DO. The smart thing, of course, would have been to sit up straight, pull my ankle out of his lap, and insist that he stop- and report it to the leaders of the ministry.
Instead, I froze. FROZE. I was nineteen years old, and suddenly, I was back to being nine years old in the bathroom, being told to be a good girl and be quiet.
Two days later, I finally got up the nerve to talk to my friend about it, and she accompanied me to one of the leaders of the ministry, as I shared what happened. But if I hadn't had this friend in my life, this friend that believed me even though she hadn't seen anything, I wouldn't have done anything. (I would like to say upfront that I am not going to say anything that could say who this person was, and after discussion, he and I are friends again- the learders talked to him and explained WHY what he had done was unacceptable, and he and I talked about a week or so later and decided to move past it and start over with each other.)
So, according to some people, in that situation, I was not a victim, I was merely someone who expected people to read my mind.
No. And again I say, not just no, but hell no. Silence is not consent. Silence is silence. It is not consent, and it should never be counted as such. EVER.
