what i wish you would know
Sunday, September 27, 2020I wish someone had told me that when you’ve just been assaulted, raped, or molested that it is completely normal to clam up.
You have just been traumatised and you are in shock. Your brain needs to gear up for handling what just happened and that can take time.
I wish I had been told that in some situations, you can’t process what happened without giving it a lot of thought. And that those thoughts are so painful, you might put even beginning to process it on hold indefinitely. And that is a normal reaction.
I wish I hadn’t heard people always say that those who come forward are ruining the lives of the perpetrators and doing it for attention. Maybe then I would have felt safe to talk about it. Maybe then I would have felt that I might be believed. Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt the need to consider the ramifications for the monster who hurt me over the necessity to hold him accountable for what he did and over the necessity for getting myself help.
I wish I had been told that monsters don’t always look like monsters. They can come in the form of really nice guys. Very respected people. Beloved husbands and wives. Trusted leaders, family, and faithful friends. Maybe then I wouldn’t have been so confused by what happened and so fearful of being disbelieved.
I wish I had been told that confusion is a very normal side effect of trauma. And that while certain details would be undeniable and acutely clear, there would be a fog around them full of all the doubt, questioning, and justifying that comes with trying to reconcile how someone could do what they did.
I wish I had been told that feeling shame was natural and normal but not because I was to blame. Instead because sexual crimes are so personal and such a violation that it is difficult to feel like it isn’t a part of you and something that somehow came from you.
I wish I had been told that it was not a part of me. I wish society hadn’t shown me again and again that people who have been violated are considered to be less valuable than they were before. I wish I hadn’t seen people treated like damaged goods for something they didn’t do. Scrutinised for having the bravery to talk about it. And written off as hyper-sensitive, overreacting messes who probably somehow deserved it.
I wish I had been told that I could heal, because maybe then I wouldn’t have paced myself to carry this pain indefinitely by burying it, making it more deeply rooted inside me than it ever should’ve had the chance to get. I wish I had been given hope. Hope that I would be met with compassion and encouragement. Hope that my attacker would be held appropriately accountable and treated like the criminal instead of me. Hope that people wouldn’t view me in the light of this event for the rest of my life. And hope that the burden could be lifted and eventually dissolved in time.
I wish I had ever seen an example of someone coming through this victoriously with the backing of their community. I wish I hadn't seen time and again that we are comfortable taking the benefit of the perpetrator's brilliance at the cost of their victims' pain; that what they produce is more valuable than the personhood of those they hurt. Maybe then I wouldn’t have felt unimportant and unworthy of protection. Maybe then I wouldn't have felt permanently tainted in a way that made me feel like I had to hide it and, therefore, as though I was constantly a fraud that no one truly knew.
I wish I had been told I was still pure and beautiful and deserving of love. And that what was done to me was not normal, not okay, not something I should expect or get used to for being a female around males.* I wish I hadn’t been told at every turn that the male gaze is my responsibility and therefore the actions that follow that gaze are my fault. Maybe then I would have spoken up instead of preparing myself for a lifetime of similar feelings of degradation.
I wish talking about this were normal now so that other people wouldn’t continue to go through what I did. It’s still not, but it never will be if more voices don’t contribute to the conversation and counteract the chorus of cynicism and doubt.
So if you need to read this, listen to me and try your hardest to believe what I’m about to say.
You are not to blame for what happened to you. You didn’t invite it. And to those of you who just thought, “Yes I did, you don’t know the details of my circumstances,” listen to me:
No, you did not.
It’s normal if you feel shame, but you shouldn’t.
It’s normal to feel confused, but seek clarity on it.
It’s normal to shut down, but please don’t keep it inside forever.
Please know that you can be healed. Please know that this isn’t yours to carry. Please know that I believe you. I believe you.
Please know that you can love and be loved. And that you are strong. Even when you need to have weakness, you’re still strong.
It’s not your fault and you are going to get through this. Please know that.
*I'm aware men get assaulted as well and am not excluding them from this conversation. But the female experience is so entrenched in sexism and the objectification of women and our bodies that we don't just experience assault, we live in a world that continues to argue if we deserve to be treated humanely, with respect and rights, on many levels. And this puts us in a much more vulnerable position. Men are always included, but I've never seen an incidence of male assault being brought up without the intention of excluding women, undermining the issue at large, or an attempt to equalise blame. Facts, statistics, and cases more than support the conclusion that women are disproportionately affected by rape culture and assault of all kinds; that it is quite obviously related to a sexist society and the quest for male dominance. So while I am all for the protection of men and admit women are capable of committing crimes of the same nature, to pretend as though it is an equal problem for all is not only untrue but would ignore the root of the problem. Until we can break down the sexist notions, that have become norms, which do not protect women and that put men in a position of having to maintain a level of toxic masculinity that prohibits them from coming forward when they have sustained such an affront, we're never going to solve this problem for anyone. Toxic masculinity is also the direct result of sexism and hurts men as well, but often in different ways. I find that people tend to bring up male victimisation with the distinct purpose of disproving the validity of the female condition. Most perpetrators of pedophilia and adult sex crimes are men - well over 90%. We have a male problem, people. That is undeniable. Men do not live under sexist oppression in a way that makes even normal interactions at work, in the street, etc., situations where they must be hyper-vigilant, and places where they receive constant blame for all their issues. It's not an incident for women; it's a lifestyle. Men are welcome. Their stories are valid and respected as traumatic. They are welcome to be honest and bring their pain to the table of collective experience. They're more than welcome to be a part of the solution as their participation is direly necessary. But not at the cost of undermining the overall and unique struggle women face in a much larger and more deeply rooted context. To uproot the problem, we must acknowledge it in its fullness. And we must fight it together.
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