Sometimes it's not what is said....
I found tofty's post on metafandom, well, I had to explain some things to new people or, old people, or anyone who missed this years ago...
"Silence is not complicity, goddamn it. Silence is just silence. And if you think otherwise, fuck you. Seriously." - Tofty.
WARNING: TRIGGERS FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE. REPEAT: SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE.
Once upon a time there were a father with three living daughters. The oldest worked to support the very poor, nearly poverty-stricken family. She put on a brave face, blindly ignored the bad, and married as soon as possible. The middle daughter was a hellcat. She was fiery, brash, a hell-raiser to the nth degree. Nothing could stop her. So she kept acting out, kept making sure people noticed her, made a not-so-fine reputation stealing boyfriends and husbands in an effort to leave. Then there was the youngest daughter, someone that was categorized as mentally handicapped and had a lot common sense problems while being the baby of eight.
So the father. Oh, he was grand, so very grand. Beat his wife - to the point of her looking 80 something by time she hit 55, breaking every bone in her body twice - whenever he was drinking. And he was rarely sober. Suddenly, the wife wasn't feeling well at all! Oh, no! Who would play the proper wife? Really, now. It couldn't be the woman in the bed since she was useless. He thought and thought, remembering those three lovely girls of various ages down the hall.
"Ah ha!" He thought. The perfect plan boiled and bubbled, tinkered and toiled inside that diseased mind. So as the girls aged, he took and took their choices away. "They'll never need independence or confidence anyway!"
First he molested, and then raped, the eldest but she fled at 18. Ah ha! Time for the middle daughter but that didn't turn out so well. For he forgot women have ways to make babies once a month. Nine months later, out came the surprise. Making the hard choice, the daughter left her kid with man, allowing him to be adopted by his father under the guise of a loose and hellcat girl making a mistake. Then came the littlest girl of all, the one who couldn't say no or fight back. Over and over, he violated her just like the others. There was escape, not until marriage. A fact all three girls realized and ran to, awareness or not. But the new guy couldn't be any worse. 18 and 18 more, the fear was ingrained deep inside. No loud "NO!"s, no kicking and screaming. Just passive behavior because who would believe a girl that her father was a monster?
The eldest never admitted the abuse, the middle never let go of anger, and the youngest became an alcoholic. Oh, the pain that lived inside...until the father suddenly had grandchildren! A new generation to bow to his desires and wills. Over time, the gossip started again. That little girls were not safe, coming home bruised and red, but no actual proof. One of the little girls, the middle daughter's in fact, had a great set of godmothers and mother who fought back. Who stood up and said "No. Not with her." And he stopped, no alone time left between the granddaughter and grandfather, though the little girl was always a little shy and unsure about men...even as she grew up. Just a little scared but never one to look inside and pushed it around, never quite remembering what happened, just the fear.
Important moral and summary
The middle daughter was my mom. My brother is my half-uncle. I was the little girl. I was one of quite a few that was possibly or intentionally molested/raped/assaulted because no male in my family stood up and said "enough" long before I was born. And that's the rub isn't it? That no one had the goddamn balls to say, "NO. This is NOT OKAY."
You wonder why I feel this way? This is why. This is why I will kick ass and take names when it comes to this stuff. I've seen the impact, I know it well. I watch my mother never being put back together, no matter how much she drinks and looks for other ways to numb it...40 years later, 32 since my brother was born. I see my response. I see my mistrust of genuinely kind men, men who aren't going to harm me, and being drawn to the bad and dangerous.
I know. Better than I let on, even if you know the secret. I know the harassment/assault in schools for being a girl. I know the secret shame and doubt. I face it every day in the mirror, but it's getting better. I'm getting better. I have to. I can't let this rule me. I'm 28 and I'm tired of being afraid of getting what I want out of life: peace, a little serenity, to be unashamed of who I am. And I am working. I'm working hard as I can.
Just because I'm strong doesn't mean I can't be weak. Never think of life in black and white. It's filled with shadows and grey. I've shared this story before, but you know, with the latest Rape Culture Round Up, it was time to redo it...and remind people that there's a variety of experiences. Both my mother and I silently cheered when my grandbastard died...because a link in the chain was broken. Perhaps too little too late, but that's one less girl to be coerced, cajoled, and cornered by someone with all the power. Before my elder aunt died, she blamed my mom for not doing everything to save his life as legal person in charge, but honestly, I couldn't care too much. He victimized far too many women for me to think well of him. And there are/were silent accuations from the men, but my mom is made of strong stuff and she passed that on to me, and frankly neither of us give a flying shit.
Dating
I'm including this part because, well, it's something I haven't really discussed but have been laughing about it...so not funny, though. See, I'm dating this guy. I guess. Maybe. Anyway, so LA Law and I dating, and yeah, we've had sex. The thing is...I'm kind of regretting it. Bear with me, it relates to the discussion at hand. Because even with the strong women who raised me, I still have it ingrained in me to be quiet, to submit, to not make waves. And I'm still learning on how to deal with being a grown up woman with grown up actions and reactions. I get asked out for dates by pushy people, I just say yes, and then duck and hide online. I get asked way too personal questions by men I don't know past an internet hello on a dating site...and I automatically answer, even if it's deeply intimate and not something I'm generally comfortable discussing. I don't feel comfortable, and I'm this big strong brash loudmouthed asskicker...but I end up silent or nearly. I didn't enjoy the time I had intercourse with this guy. In fact, I knew I wouldn't, but it was expected and I do what is expected because there is no point saying no. This wasn't coercion or anything like this. I had implied and therefore must follow through. This is something so much deeper that I've never examined, ever.
Was that rape, or sexual assault? Hell no. I had a choice and my instinct says he would have been fine with taking no for an answer...but this whole SPN blow up and subsequent discussion is helping me shape my issues and my problems so I will be able to verbalize out loud. How soon, no idea. But I will. That means I am so goddamn grateful that this came up. Because it's giving me back a power I didn't know was missing. You have no idea how fucking important that is for me. I thought I was a lot more definitive than I was, and that's okay that I'm not. It's good to learn and grow and figure this out. Because I need to know. I don't have to joke it away. I just need to deal with it and this whole thing is giving me thinky things that help. So for all the bad, and there was a lot, I have a hell of a lot to be grateful for, too. One is my voice.
Keep in mind:
For now, this post is public and commentable...but if anything gets shitty and destructive, I reserve the right to freeze, ban, or turn off comments. Not for my benefit, but for other victims. That's a very nice way of saying: be aware of what you're implying and do not victim blame because it's a good way to end up gone.
"Silence is not complicity, goddamn it. Silence is just silence. And if you think otherwise, fuck you. Seriously." - Tofty.
WARNING: TRIGGERS FOR SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE. REPEAT: SEXUAL ASSAULT AND RAPE.
Once upon a time there were a father with three living daughters. The oldest worked to support the very poor, nearly poverty-stricken family. She put on a brave face, blindly ignored the bad, and married as soon as possible. The middle daughter was a hellcat. She was fiery, brash, a hell-raiser to the nth degree. Nothing could stop her. So she kept acting out, kept making sure people noticed her, made a not-so-fine reputation stealing boyfriends and husbands in an effort to leave. Then there was the youngest daughter, someone that was categorized as mentally handicapped and had a lot common sense problems while being the baby of eight.
So the father. Oh, he was grand, so very grand. Beat his wife - to the point of her looking 80 something by time she hit 55, breaking every bone in her body twice - whenever he was drinking. And he was rarely sober. Suddenly, the wife wasn't feeling well at all! Oh, no! Who would play the proper wife? Really, now. It couldn't be the woman in the bed since she was useless. He thought and thought, remembering those three lovely girls of various ages down the hall.
"Ah ha!" He thought. The perfect plan boiled and bubbled, tinkered and toiled inside that diseased mind. So as the girls aged, he took and took their choices away. "They'll never need independence or confidence anyway!"
First he molested, and then raped, the eldest but she fled at 18. Ah ha! Time for the middle daughter but that didn't turn out so well. For he forgot women have ways to make babies once a month. Nine months later, out came the surprise. Making the hard choice, the daughter left her kid with man, allowing him to be adopted by his father under the guise of a loose and hellcat girl making a mistake. Then came the littlest girl of all, the one who couldn't say no or fight back. Over and over, he violated her just like the others. There was escape, not until marriage. A fact all three girls realized and ran to, awareness or not. But the new guy couldn't be any worse. 18 and 18 more, the fear was ingrained deep inside. No loud "NO!"s, no kicking and screaming. Just passive behavior because who would believe a girl that her father was a monster?
The eldest never admitted the abuse, the middle never let go of anger, and the youngest became an alcoholic. Oh, the pain that lived inside...until the father suddenly had grandchildren! A new generation to bow to his desires and wills. Over time, the gossip started again. That little girls were not safe, coming home bruised and red, but no actual proof. One of the little girls, the middle daughter's in fact, had a great set of godmothers and mother who fought back. Who stood up and said "No. Not with her." And he stopped, no alone time left between the granddaughter and grandfather, though the little girl was always a little shy and unsure about men...even as she grew up. Just a little scared but never one to look inside and pushed it around, never quite remembering what happened, just the fear.
Important moral and summary
The middle daughter was my mom. My brother is my half-uncle. I was the little girl. I was one of quite a few that was possibly or intentionally molested/raped/assaulted because no male in my family stood up and said "enough" long before I was born. And that's the rub isn't it? That no one had the goddamn balls to say, "NO. This is NOT OKAY."
You wonder why I feel this way? This is why. This is why I will kick ass and take names when it comes to this stuff. I've seen the impact, I know it well. I watch my mother never being put back together, no matter how much she drinks and looks for other ways to numb it...40 years later, 32 since my brother was born. I see my response. I see my mistrust of genuinely kind men, men who aren't going to harm me, and being drawn to the bad and dangerous.
I know. Better than I let on, even if you know the secret. I know the harassment/assault in schools for being a girl. I know the secret shame and doubt. I face it every day in the mirror, but it's getting better. I'm getting better. I have to. I can't let this rule me. I'm 28 and I'm tired of being afraid of getting what I want out of life: peace, a little serenity, to be unashamed of who I am. And I am working. I'm working hard as I can.
Just because I'm strong doesn't mean I can't be weak. Never think of life in black and white. It's filled with shadows and grey. I've shared this story before, but you know, with the latest Rape Culture Round Up, it was time to redo it...and remind people that there's a variety of experiences. Both my mother and I silently cheered when my grandbastard died...because a link in the chain was broken. Perhaps too little too late, but that's one less girl to be coerced, cajoled, and cornered by someone with all the power. Before my elder aunt died, she blamed my mom for not doing everything to save his life as legal person in charge, but honestly, I couldn't care too much. He victimized far too many women for me to think well of him. And there are/were silent accuations from the men, but my mom is made of strong stuff and she passed that on to me, and frankly neither of us give a flying shit.
Dating
I'm including this part because, well, it's something I haven't really discussed but have been laughing about it...so not funny, though. See, I'm dating this guy. I guess. Maybe. Anyway, so LA Law and I dating, and yeah, we've had sex. The thing is...I'm kind of regretting it. Bear with me, it relates to the discussion at hand. Because even with the strong women who raised me, I still have it ingrained in me to be quiet, to submit, to not make waves. And I'm still learning on how to deal with being a grown up woman with grown up actions and reactions. I get asked out for dates by pushy people, I just say yes, and then duck and hide online. I get asked way too personal questions by men I don't know past an internet hello on a dating site...and I automatically answer, even if it's deeply intimate and not something I'm generally comfortable discussing. I don't feel comfortable, and I'm this big strong brash loudmouthed asskicker...but I end up silent or nearly. I didn't enjoy the time I had intercourse with this guy. In fact, I knew I wouldn't, but it was expected and I do what is expected because there is no point saying no. This wasn't coercion or anything like this. I had implied and therefore must follow through. This is something so much deeper that I've never examined, ever.
Was that rape, or sexual assault? Hell no. I had a choice and my instinct says he would have been fine with taking no for an answer...but this whole SPN blow up and subsequent discussion is helping me shape my issues and my problems so I will be able to verbalize out loud. How soon, no idea. But I will. That means I am so goddamn grateful that this came up. Because it's giving me back a power I didn't know was missing. You have no idea how fucking important that is for me. I thought I was a lot more definitive than I was, and that's okay that I'm not. It's good to learn and grow and figure this out. Because I need to know. I don't have to joke it away. I just need to deal with it and this whole thing is giving me thinky things that help. So for all the bad, and there was a lot, I have a hell of a lot to be grateful for, too. One is my voice.
Keep in mind:
For now, this post is public and commentable...but if anything gets shitty and destructive, I reserve the right to freeze, ban, or turn off comments. Not for my benefit, but for other victims. That's a very nice way of saying: be aware of what you're implying and do not victim blame because it's a good way to end up gone.