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I Do Not Owe You
Sometimes, you just get extraordinarily lucky – and the universe puts something really special in your path.
That’s how I feel about Renee, who writes the blog That Shameless Hussy. This woman can write about literally anything- her children, friendship, chicken pot pie – and her writing captivates.
This is not an easy story to read- but it MUST be read.
Please welcome Renee to the Sisterwives blog.
~Samara xxo
Trigger warning: Rape, violence against women
At the moment I am working on two different pieces, and am making very little progress on either: the first was supposed to be a bawdy retrospective of how I became such a shameless hussy….the second was to explore the insidious hierarchy of victims of sexual assault.
And as I stand here drinking coffee in my quiet kitchen, I realize I have stumbled on the source of the problem.
It’s hard to write about both. Each feels like a betrayal of the other.
A few weeks ago, a woman in my city was raped, set on fire and left to die by her attacker. A suspect was in custody, three days after the attack, as his victim lay dying in the intensive care unit. With his arrest, the community exhaled. This man has a history of violent outbursts and restraining orders, drug abuse and mental illness. Now he was off the streets.
We love the sexual complexity of women. Don’t we? We like to watch them, fantasize about them – we try to look like them, want to be them. We watch, breathless, as they soar above us, living vicariously through their hedonistic experience – until they crash into the sun, then we abandon their broken bodies: “You should have expected that. Why should you be able to fly?”
To acknowledge, celebrate the confused jumble of love and lust, abounding with curiosity and kink that has been my sexuality since my first lover looked down and grinned with sudden mischief at my naked form as I reached for him and implored him to hurry, and said “Are you sure? Because I can stop.” and pulled away in spite of my protest. Then just as quickly, he reversed course in thrilling and urgent possession. I never forgot the sweetness of being denied, however briefly.
To tell you how it felt to be rocked by unexpected climax, tied ankle and wrist to four bed posts, face down, hips elevated, thighs splayed, as a surge of wet electricity that surprised us both danced through me and drove me to gasp over my shoulder, “Do that again,” in its wake.
To explain how I was drawn to other women – the first time to impress a boy, and later because I found women to be complex in every way that men were simple, with the added bonus of soft skin and breasts and they mostly don’t turn into stray dogs the next morning. But when they go, the marks they leave are sometimes deeper; they know where to cut you.
I would argue that whoever coined the phrase “Making love” wasn’t doing it right.
These things, all of them, are part of me.
The attack was so horrific that I assumed the two people involved were connected. So much anger, to assault another human being so violently, in such a way that they would die screaming, slowly, aware. I was wrong. She had the misfortune to encounter him for the first time that night, walking home from work, and they exchanged words that remain unknown. So he beat her, raped her and set her on fire. Two days ago she succumbed to her injuries, leaving behind three children.
I have a husband, and two children. I have built a life with them, with their father, one that leaves behind much of what I knew before. We have date night, and play monopoly. I dance the tango with my little girl across the kitchen; teach my son to belch his name. I go to school conferences and choir and swimming and soccer. I make cookies and birthday cakes and sleep in an enormous bed in a room overflowing with all the clutter of a family.
All of these things are a part of me.
At one of the many family gatherings of this holiday season, during the inevitable after-dinner lull, someone told a “people are stupid” anecdote – and a relative whom I respect said “Talk about stupid – stupid is someone walking in a high-crime park alone after dark.” Now, he was one man in a room full of women and he was promptly set upon en masse as they all rushed to the victim’s defense, which was of a common thread “She probably didn’t have a car.” “It was her neighborhood.” “She probably couldn’t afford another way home.” “She probably walked home hundreds of times and nothing had ever happened.”
Why are we having these conversations?
And then, my quiet little story: Once I returned from an abysmal first date, and was not quick enough to close my door. The man that I had at first found to be challenging and confident, and then boorish and uneducated, was suddenly Neanderthal and misogynistic. This is not a game, I was told, I’m not ready to leave yet. You can’t say you don’t want this too, and I again found myself face down, this time my arms twisted painfully behind my back, face in a pile of pillows, struggling to find a pocket of air so I could breathe, not giving my full attention to what was happening to the rest of my body except that it felt like I was being torn inside out.
I am almost six feet tall. One hundred sixty-five pounds. I have been an athlete, I go to the gym regularly. I lift weights and I run. I consider myself to be strong. He did not hit me. Not once. He didn’t have to. You grow up in a cocoon of safety, the first time someone denies you breath and wounds you in such a deep, sudden, personal way, it breaks you. It would not happen the same way again. It would not. In the first 30 seconds, he hurt and terrified me with such precision that I did not fight him for the next four hours. I did not say no again. I did not report it. I did nothing but comply. I am not a fool – I know that I destroyed my own credibility. I simply swept it aside and moved on.
This is a part of me, too.
We fell all over each other trying to explain why this woman didn’t invite her own violation and murder.
Over and over, we emphasized, “yeah….but she didn’t deserve that. No one deserves that.”
What punishment, then, fits her crime, if rape and murder together are too extreme? What part of her experience did she “deserve” for walking through a park at night? Her attacker had a rap sheet long enough that he should have been under supervision. He never should have been in that park to begin with, if his freedom to be out at night was actually governed by his decision-making history. But it’s HER presence that we question. Her intelligence. Her WORTH.
I rarely talk about my experience. It makes people uncomfortable. They want to advise me on which self-defense move I should have employed that would certainly have saved me. Why did I let him in? Why didn’t I scream? Why didn’t I call the police? Four hours? Really? And he didn’t hit you? What else did he do? What else?
Wanting it means you aren’t allowed to not want it, it seems. After all this time, deep down we still believe that nice girls just don’t. And that, friends, is the problem.
Incidents like these are the seeds of our terror. Stranger attacked by stranger, for no reason other than chance. Objectified and disposed of like refuse. How can we hope to prevent something like this from happening to us, our mothers, our daughters? How can we distance ourselves from this victim, and believe that we are safe, if she did nothing to bring it on herself? But thank goodness – she was a single mom, living in a high crime neighborhood, walking home from work, at night, alone.
Whew.
We don’t do that.
This can’t happen to us.
Had I been this victim, would my family have been dissecting every decision I made up to the point where my attacker set my skin ablaze? Would my children have to listen to their own family make suppositions about their dead mother’s choices? I may not have deserved “that” but by implication…something…surely…for being alone and female.
I am a human being. I am a woman.
I am not bound by your, or anyone’s, perception of my sexuality. I am rich and complex; my past is part of me, but I am more than just the haphazard sum of all my experience. The whole does not diminish, nor is it diminished by, it’s parts.
My choices, wise or unwise, do not make me responsible for the actions of others.
And I do not owe you an explanation. I do not owe you anything.
—
…mother of two, daughter of one, caretaker of four, trying to achieve a balance of principle and practice without shouting obscenities at too many people.
Born and raised in the Bible belt, I have mostly mistrust and disdain for all things “religious.” Spiritual – that’s a different story. I keep those cards close to the vest.
Deep down, I believe that I am an utter and complete fraud. There is a mean kid in my head that stands over my shoulder, watches me work and says things that no one would even think to say. The bad stuff is always easier to believe, it seems. But I’m learning.
I believe that sometimes a moment of clarity moment and a moment of sheer, unmitigated bullshit can look EXACTLY the same. So don’t get too wise – life has a way of burning that right to the ground.
Please follow Renee on Facebook, where she is the ever popular That Shameless Hussy.
This was captivating, awful, amazing, and wonderfully written. Kudos to you 🙂 Thank you so much for letting us share it.
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Deep breaths won’t wash away the truth in these words that shatter my chest. Very well written Renee.
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Hastywords, thanks for reading and commenting with such lovely words. You are very kind. ❤
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(Oooh! FRIST!!! 😉 )
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Just re-read your bio…hate the truth about the mean kid in your head. I know that one.
Still LOVE that you say so staunchly that you don’t owe (us) anything. Guilt and peer pressure and the urge to justify yourself in the face of judgement can be so overwhelming to combat. Knowing you owe nothing is such a liberation. I will be shouting this from all the hills I can 🙂
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Thank you for making me laugh when I was so nervous. “FRIST!” was the first thing I saw. I find it interesting that when we say things like “But she didn’t deserve THAT.” we think we are NOT blaming the victim. We don’t hear that underlying thread of (but I would have made a different choice). Thanks for taking the time to read and comment! ❤
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I have a HUGEMASSIVE issue with the whole concept of ‘deserve’. Massive. Can’t even tell you. Because it seems to apply SO illogically. “Have a second helping – you deserve it” (NO!); “I got you a gift – you deserve it” (NO!); “Did you SEE what she was WEARING? She deserved it.” (NO!); “They’re such awful parents – they don’t deserve to have children” (INCORRECT!); “I had a miscarriage – I don’t deserve a baby.” (INCORRECT!)
It’s a stupid term designed to pin people’s opinion slap into the middle of other people’s WORTH. And that’s awful. I abhor it.
What DO you/we/I/anyone truly, truly deserve? NOTHING. We. Are. Not. Owed.
We can earn stuff. We can trade stuff. We can make choices and be impacted by the choices of others. We can be screwed over or made complete by the randomness of life and the way it all works out in bizarre ways.
But we don’t ‘deserve’ it.
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(And I’m glad I made you laugh 🙂 Scoring ‘FRIST’ is kind of a tradition 😉 )
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Hi! I have two cents: I think all people DESERVE basic human rights. I know, we don’t all always have the self-esteem to support that thought, or the surroundings to support it, or anything at all to support it, but I think it’s true.
We deserve to have adequate nutrition and shelter. We deserve access to health care. We deserve to be free from the fear of genocide. Um, I don’t remember anything else from my Human Rights course; the UN has text of their Universal Declaration of Human Rights online…go read that if you want a more comprehensive list.
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It’s like Julie Andrews in Sound of Music already! I’m shouting and cheering for you on this Swiss Alps-ish hill over here! Courageous and inspirational-WOW! Thanks so much!
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Renee, I will try very hard to come up with words that do this incredibly open, honest, and brave post justice. I will fall short. I have been in this place and finally after many, many, many years I find the words that I needed to hear in this post.
‘My choices, wise or unwise, do not make me responsible for the actions of others.
And I do not owe you an explanation. I do not owe you anything.’
Thank you.
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Thanks, Sandy! Interesting that even as I wrote it, I found myself judging myself. 🙂 Thank you for reading and commenting and supporting. ❤
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Renee, I just now read this for the first time. I read it aloud, alone in my house, and more than once I had to stop to take a breath. The power in your words is phenomenal. When I finished and read your bio (which could be mine, too, btw) my first thought was: every single person needs to read this.
Your writing is inspiring and delicious and seizing and amazing. Consider me an instant, HUGE, fan. And thank you for trusting us with your words. You honor us. xoxo
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Thank you Beth! The fandom is mutual! I appreciate you taking the time to read and comment. ❤
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I agree with Beth. You honor us with trusting us with this raw, vulnerable post. I’m proud to showcase it here.
Thank you, Renee. I’m so happy we met. I love you.
Did things just get weird?
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See, now I feel that weirdness is part of the vibe…(she said vibe). Thanks for reading, featuring, believing in me. I love you too, man!!
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I can’t say what the lovelies before me ^^^ have already said any better so I will just say this…thank you for validating women.
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Thank you for the support. I appreciate you! ❤
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There’s 2 issues – 1) In such a brutal attack it clearly is squarely on the perpetrator. It was his actions which led to the end result.
2) The whole ‘she shouldn’t have walked there’ type argument is a fallacy. It is part of the human mind to try to rationalise things and blaming a ‘bad area’ rather than the attacker is easier. However this stems from small things – if I leave my car unlocked and it gets stolen it is my fault, not the thiefs’. This translates across, until it changes for small things, it won’t change for more serious things.
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Photoxin, you hit the nail on the head. It’s hard to separate the two – making a regrettable decision is not the same as being responsible for the deliberate action of another. Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment.
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I had a different, but similar, experience – more than once. And you are absolutely correct, you do not owe anyone. It took me several years to realize that, to open up to the people closest to me, not because I felt like I owed them an explanation for the person I’d become, but because I needed to let it go – to release the guilt and shame that I had been holding onto. To let go of my anger. I tend to shy away from conversations about sexual assault because they are difficult, and I get emotionally charged – and then I feel I need to explain why I so vehemently detest sexual abusers, rapists, child molesters. I shouldn’t need to wear a sign around my neck that shouts ‘I was raped. I was abused. I was told it was all my fault, and for years I believed it.’
Your words are powerful, and your message needs to be heard. Thank you for your courage in sharing something so personal.
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Thank you for your heartfelt response. It is horrible to feel judged both internally and externally. Your experience shapes you but you are not defined by it – hell with anyone who tells you different. Thank you for taking the time to read, comment, and share so honestly.
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Fantastic post…
Thank you for sharing your story and challenging us to face our fears and the lies we tell ourselves so we don’t venture into the world constantly trembling from those fears. We need to be challenged. We need to face the truths of this dark world and work towards turning them around. How can we change for the better if we never admit that change is needed? Not as a society. Not as individuals.
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Matticus thanks for reading, and for the kind words. I cringed as I wrote it, not for me, but for those who would take only provocative phrases away, rather than what I was trying to say.
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I don’t think you need to worry about that with this community… The SisterWives have done a wonderful job of building this place of love, trust and support.
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Almost too powerful for words…
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Thank you for reading and taking the time to say anything at all. I appreciate the support!
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It blew me away… thank you.
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Powerful words. Painful and brutally honest, and so very, very true.
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Thanks, Lisa! I’m really glad you liked it!
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Beautiful in such a heartbreaking way.
There are no words really, I’ve read this over and over. Each time I nod my head and my heart grows heavy.
You’re an amazing woman Renee.
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Quit it. 🙂
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I’m so mean! Thank you, Papa, for all of your support. You are a good friend and I appreciate you more than you know. :):)
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This is an important read. You are courageous to share your story, Renee. Your parallel writing about the other crime and people’s reaction to it, is a powerful interlacing of realities (past and present). I’m sorry for your hideous experience. Nothing can erase that pain as you say, it is part of you. We must stop the victim blaming.
I love that you are a shameless hussy who owns her sexuality so beautifully. That is exactly what those monsters can’t handle.
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Lisa, thank you for the awesome response. I appreciate that you took the time to write it because that last sentence is exactly what I was trying to say. 🙂
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A brilliantly written, heartfelt post. Victim shaming, along with psychological manipulation and physical violence, is why it took me 8 years to get out of an abusive relationship. The questions that people asked me afterward still boggle my mind. “Why didn’t you just leave?” Yeah, because it’s that simple.
The fact that women, no matter the circumstance, whether voiced or simply thought, are the ones who put ourselves in harm’s way–not the fact that there’s harm to be in the way of–is disgusting, and sadly, very prevalent. Thanks for writing this.
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Thanks for the read, and I couldn’t agree more. Not just for women – we try to distance ourselves the same way from any crime we find too distasteful. But that’s a whole ‘nother blog….
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Goldfish- I know my experience is very different from yours, but I’ve been watching my family explore relationships with a family member I think is abusive for 21 years. We skate around it, we don’t like to talk about it, and, as most of my family learned a lot of core values from this person, we don’t think it’s okay to cut them out of our lives, stop talking to them, or even say we don’t like them very much, because we were taught otherwise.
“Why don’t you just stop interacting with them? Move out? Move away? Cut them out?” BECAUSE. It’s SO much more complicated than that! Jesus, I DID, and the consequences and repercussions are feeling rather ridiculous; half my family has made me the black sheep, and the other half try, in a well-meaning way, to convince me to bury the hatchet and make amends. AMENDS?! APOLOGIES?! REALLY!!!!!!????? But I miss hanging out with my extended family, and having a conversation with my cousin that doesn’t involve shame and guilt trips. Sometimes, I consider it for the sake of peace and the family members that I love and care about.
Anyway, point being: It’s fucking HARD to get out of an abusive relationship.
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Sorry, some of that just turned into telling my own story and venting my own frustration. The point: I hear ya.
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So beautifully wrote you forget the tragedy within.
I love That Shameless Hussy more now than I ever imagined.
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Thank you Ms. J! I wanted a roller coaster – to confuse, and make folks think about – their gut reaction. I appreciate the kind words and you taking the time to read it.<3
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Powerful and very well written. You bared your soul and I felt an ache in my heart for what you went through. No woman deserves to be treated that way by anyone. Thank you for sharing such a difficult part of your soul. HUGS ❤
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*hugs you back* Thanks for the sweet and supportive words. Sharing any and all – including the parts that really weren’t mine to tell – was harder than I thought. Not the writing – the showing. ❤
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Thank you for sharing a story that absolutely needs to be shared if we are ever going to learn.
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Thank you for reading and sharing what you thought! I appreciate the support!
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I. Am. Speechless.
That was one of the most well written and compelling cluster of words I’ve ever read. You are amazing and brilliant. Your ability to embrace all sides is impressive.
I read this and want to read more of you. This is, of course, all about the writing. The story. Both stories. I have no words.
Please come back and write here again. You have no idea how many women are nodding along with what you’ve just said.
Thank you for saying it here.
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Thank you, Mandi! You are very kind. I appreciate the encouragement! I would love to write here again, and Iook forward to the chance.
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Wow. This is a powerful piece, shedding light on a misguided way of thinking. The perspective is thought provoking. Thanks for sharing.
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Thanks for reading! I appreciate the support! 🙂
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If your family is anything like mine, they would have blamed you too sadly. Most of Mine did me for everything from the initial stalking, to the obsession to the attack. These were the women in my family. Only one sister stood by me through it. My heart aches for every girl/woman or even boy/man that has had this crime be committed against them. Hugs girl!!
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I will never know how my family would have reacted. I never gave them the chance. How awful for you to have what should be a primary system of support fail you. How brave you are! ❤ Thank you for reading and sharing.
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Reading this incredible post, I’m aware that all of us that have been abused, no matter what the “type” of abuse was realize that it cannot ever really be something that “was” or “happened” , the past tense. It is always a part of us. My abuse was by my father and even my supposed closest friends say things to me like, “That could NOT have really happened, are you sure you didn’t just dream it?” or “No way a full grown man can penetrate a three year old. No way!” Ok, so what is that really saying, that I made this all up? And to what benefit? So I can sit here and be insulted, demeaned and doubted by you?” I don’t think so and you know what? I don’t owe you any fucking explanation!! Every time I am confronted with one of these comments the only thing that comes into my mind is, “Forgive them for they know not what they do.” Not for the religious reference, just for the ignorance the display. Perhaps it’s best they cannot understand that darkness but just say THAT! Me? I could never even pretend to know how a mother feels when she loses a child. Why in God’s green earth would I EVER question or doubt her feelings??
I can say I do know how difficult it is to share your feelings on such a sensative and incredibly personal subject. Thank you for doing so.
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Thank you! It is hard to understand why a parent would choose to deny and invalidate their own child rather than face a horrifying truth about an adult. I am so sorry that happened to you. Thank your for taking the time to read and comment on a subject that is so close to you. ❤
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I always teach my children that nobody else is ever responsible for the bad choices WE make. What you describe here is the flip side if that same coin…WE are not responsible for SOMEONE ELSE’S bad (or utterly heinous) behavior. Thank you for saying something so powerful and necessary, even though it was a subject so painfully close to home.
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Thank you Donna! So hard to teach,
the point at which a reaction becomes action and the responsibility shifts. Good for you for recognizing the difference. Thank you for reading and for all of your support. ❤
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Wow…I am speechless and in awe of you and your courage and strength. Thank you for writing this. It helps to know other people have similar stories, similar feelings. I have only recently stopped blaming myself and holding stuff in. I will not let my past affect my life negatively any longer, it has made me who I am right now, strong, smart and far more aware. Thank you.
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Thank you Donna! I am overwhelmed by all the support and kind words. I am glad you found yourself in a place of strength, and the credit for that goes entirely to you. Thank you for reading. 🙂
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***I do not owe you an explanation. I do not owe you anything.***
I am exhilarated. I am liberated. I am EMPOWERED.
— fucking awesome. WOW. xx
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Thank you! It makes me happy that you took all of those positive things from this piece. It’s all I wanted. ❤
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Breathless. That is all I think I can say right now. I am breathless. There is so much here that has me spinning. Because. Oh my god, you touched on so many things. What we do and say to ourselves after going through a horrible violation. How we blame ourselves. How society blames us. How that all becomes a tangled mess until you don’t know which end is up. And the part that gets me the most? Thank goodness she was a single mom. Living in a bad neighborhood. Walking home alone. Because it’s much easier to swallow that than the brutal reality of what happened to this woman. Thank you for sharing this. I feel so much strength from you, the way you tell this. Thank you.
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Thanks, Gretchen! I’m glad you came away with strength, and I appreciate that you took the time to read and comment! ❤
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I just felt whatever is inside me that’s broken, start to heal with your words. Thank you so much for wonderful you. ❤️
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…and I am happy that I was able to write something that made you feel that way. Thank you for reading, and taking the time to comment. ❤
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You’re welcome Renee. You give me courage in the face of my past. 💗
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I was seventeen, I think, when I was walking back from a friend’s place at 8pm. A big, burly man started following me. The first thing I felt was guilt, because I “attracted attention”. Next came dread, because if my parents “found out” someone followed me, I’d not be allowed to step out for a long long time. It wasn’t until he cornered me in a dark alley that I actually felt concerned for my own safety. He pinned me to a wall, and because I was so afraid (of getting into trouble at home), I kicked him in the nuts and ran as fast as I could.
When I finally paused to catch my breath, I realized how wrong all this was. Why was it my fault that this guy attacked me? Where was all that guilt coming from? If this guy couldn’t control himself, why did I need to be grounded/locked up?
Fifteen years later, some people in India still think that women should not be “allowed” outside after 8 pm because there are safety concerns. Some people very close to me – people who claim to “respect women” – seem to agree. It breaks my heart that they don’t realize they should be “respecting women’s rights” instead.
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That sounds like a scary thing to go thru – good for you for keeping your wits about you. We raise our girls to be nice. We reward compliance and good manners, to their detriment sometimes. And I know what you mean about the guilt.
Not long ago, someone stole my purse out of my shopping cart and ran. I chased him, on reactionary impulse. And can I just say the look on this face when he turned and saw this ol’ broad gaining on him was awesome? Anyway, a car full of his companions cut us off. And I gave up the chase, with some choice swearing. I am not advocating my decision to chase, just tellin’ the story.
Now, it was just a purse, so I’m not comparing. But not one person said “Oh. So, you must have wanted him to have it, then?”
Thank you for reading, and for your support. ❤
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I cannot imagine the bravery it took to write this, but I’m glad you did. People don’t think deeply about this topic and you managed to point out exactly how the majority react to incidents like this. Knee jerks, useless advice, and “not me.” You have put it so succinctly that I could almost feel sorry for anyone stupid or mean enough to add some more of the above in the comments.
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Thank you Jenny! It was harder than I expected, but I am certain and grateful that I was shielded by the Sisterwives from some negative comments that didn’t clear the filter. The outpouring of support was overwhelming. Thanks for reading!
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I, too, have experienced ‘things’ that are questionable to my character. I, too, have been a victim to someone, someone who I refuse to talk about. I, too, was raised in the Bible belt, and have respect for religion and only call myself Spiritual. Sometimes I feel like you are part of me when I read your thoughts. Sometimes I feel that I know you, when I know that I don’t. Sometimes I’m more captivated by you than I should be. And I love you, Hussy. xo
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I love you too, darlin’! I love that you get me. I’m so glad we ran across one another, and that you took the time to come over here and say nice things about this. ❤
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is simply incredible that in this century there is still man who wants to control the woman, still some man conciderra the woman as an object and does not leave you any freedom, for me a man hitting a woman is a grid lack of respect and can not see lucky to have a woman who loves and respect, I know I am a man but perhaps another way of thinking, thank you renee for those words.
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You are very kind! Controlling, objectifying and abuse are unacceptable in any healthy relationship. 🙂 It’s nice to hear from someone whose values reject those notions. Thanks for reading & commenting!
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Damn.
“You should have expected that. Why should you be able to fly?”
That says it all.
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Thank you for reading and commenting, Katie! 🙂
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Wow, you shared a horrifying story and glimpse of our sick culture in a very artful way. You are also very brave.
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Thanks, Curvyroads! I appreciate the read! 🙂
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He didn’t hit you, you didn’t shout, you didn’t report to the police or fight back…all these I can relate to because people who hear this story always say “then it wasn’t rape”
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Exactly. And you can’t be the only one who understands. ❤
Thank you for reading. 🙂
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You’re welcome
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Agrees with every word in this incredible piece.
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Thanks for reading, and for the support!
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Thank you for your raw honesty here…..for the bravery to share with such authenticity. I think that sometimes the person who is most demanding of an explanation is our inner self and those shame-inducing questions and should-have-could-have-judgment-laden assumptions others throw at us when they demand explanations are things that we also bury ourselves under in obsessive attempts to explain to ourselves how or why we ‘let’ it happen….perhaps we would do well to take a moment to say, “I do not owe you an explanation” to that tyrannical and critical inner self as well! Thank you for these words. I needed to hear them.
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C.C., you are very kind – and you couldn’t be more right. We can be our own worst enemy and critic – it’s as hard enough to stand against external judgment, but when it comes from within, it is not only devastating but inescapable. Thank you for such a lovely comment.
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Damn. Great interweaving narratives, it reads so well and has such a solid affirming message. Kudos. I think all these writers said everything.
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Thanks, Jeremy! It means a lot that you read it and took the time to comment. 🙂
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Renee,
I cannot thank you enough for the words that you wrote that I read with tears streaming down my face. I was raped, kidnapped by a friend of the family- the family that watched my two-year old daughter while I fought the worst depression I’d ever faced. Postpartum depression was different than all the other years of depression that proceeded it. I could not get out of bed. My baby- from the time she could say, “Daddy” until the day I gave up and checked into the mental hospital, would scream at the top of her lungs most of the day while my husband was at work. It felt like she knew I had no clue what I was doing- with my life, how to be a good mother, wife, person. I thought she was safe in the home of the woman I would begin calling her Godmother. The friend of the family stopped by occasionally, in the company of her adult daughter. What I realize now is that he saw in me what most of my family members had missed- I was an addict and had been so for the past several years. I got sober as soon as I learned I was pregnant, and I tried to stay sober after she was born, but I failed. The man that would destroy my life and injure my body saw that I was weak-physically from a disability and mentally from the damage of addiction.
I was kept in a hotel for 4 days. During this time I heard another woman scream and beg for her life. Her voice haunts me every day. How many women were kept locked inside these hotel rooms? No one ever asked me why I didn’t fight. When I finally made my way to a hospital, days later after he maxed out my debit card, which for the first time in years had money on it, due to a recent tax return, stole my car and tired of forcing my mouth open to shotgun crack smoke into it, when he disappeared and did not return I got to the hospital. At first I did not say what had happened. He threatened to kill my family and I. I believed him. My husband, and the rest of my family, who by now had been told of my addiction all thought I would end up dead on the side of the road. I fought for years to prove that even though I was an addict I did not deserve to be abused and raped. No one does. I keep mostly quiet about this terrifying part of my life because it involved being judged by a divorce court judge as a slut and addict. I fought to get the right to see my daughter unsupervised. Finally I fought to stay married. I wanted my daughter to have a good life. I was sober and I’d be damned if someone else stepped in to raise my daughter. I too had to fight whether the part of me that enjoyed BDSM, role-playing, kinky, rough sex could still desire these things in a lover after rape made several of the things I had enjoyed doing-with consent-were turned violent and ugly when forced upon me. This was used against me. The fact that I was a sexually active, open relationship, bisexual woman became notes in the divorce case and were seen as demerits of my character. That still angers me. How can a judge decide if I am a good or a bad person based upon what I liked to do in bed? That was a lesson learned that I will never forget. I am not nearly as open in talking about or pursuing my sexual interests as I was before finding out such a thing could be used to determine if I was fit to be a mother.
The stories that seem to be more and more prevalent of women being raped and attacked in such vicious, incomprehensible ways terrifies me. I truly can’t decide it it is worse to be attacked by someone you know- then you live in fear that they know where you live, where your kids go to school- information that you absolutely don’t want someone that has assaulted you to have. But then there are the attacks like the woman in the park. Dear god, no one deserves that torture and pain- no that’s not right- the attacker does. Why is it that we even have discussions where the blame is generally shifted to the woman- why did she walk home at night, why did she go to that club, why did she start using drugs at 19. Why are we not, and why are the police, sheriffs, people in power that can set up stronger laws, punishments, safety for women- be it public transportation, better lighting on streets that are often walkways between residences and businesses. I am most frustrated that even today a woman that is raped must prove her innocence and be a tireless advocate of the punishment of her attacker- and even if this is done- at least in my experience nothing is done. The police told me where to find my car. It had been destroyed and abandoned on the side of the road. They considered the case closed then.
It is never enough, but I am sorry you were raped. I wish there was something more tangible survivors of rape could do- aside from turning into an angry mob that hunts down rapists similar to witch hunts of long ago, nothing proactive comes to mind. I do think there is some healing though, in finding out you are not alone. It is an incredibly hard thing to open up and write about the complete terror of being raped. I wish neither of us had to write our stories about it. I wish we lived in a world where the first questions that come to mind are not what the woman was doing, but as you said, why the man with a criminal history and rap sheet was allowed to be walking around, free to commit such an atrocity. We have to change the conversation. We have to make this about the attackers, not the women who never, ever deserve such hell. Thank you for your words and your story. I hope one day our stories will be told enough that they will be the spark of change we need to turn the blame and punishment onto the monsters that rape, not the women, no matter if they are poor, sexually active, a sex worker, drunk, high, hurt, disabled, scared, any or every thing- it is not a woman’s fault.
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Rueann, I just saw this, and you have my apologies for the inexcusable late response. You have survived something truly horrific, and my heart goes out to you. You have touched on so many things that motivated me to write what I did – how does what a person chooses to do consensually have ANYTHING to do with sexual assault? It is the only crime where people assume that consent can be inferred from a person’s appearance or their history, WHICH IS LUDICROUS.
We do, indeed, need to change the conversation. Thank you for reading, and for telling your story.
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Renee- Thank you for writing back. There’s no need to apologize for not writing right away! I often worry that my novella length comments are too much too post, but I lack the ability to summarize.
Thank you again for sharing your story. I have tried to share mine on my blog twice now, but each time my husband threw a fit that it made him look bad.
I agree with you completely. My sexual interests- BDSM, kink and fantasies do not make me a deviant person or unfit parent. I was aghast when I recently discovered a quote from a supposedly esteemed psychiatrist on a dating site I have helped edit. He stated that women with such desires need to be taken to psychiatric hospitals immediately, and that the only people with such fantasies are criminals or severely mentally ill women who want to be raped. The site’s owner was appalled that such a horrid statement from a “expert” was on her site, and I was able to rewrite the article to be accepting and open, not horribly false and accusatory. It saddens me that this is still considered to be truth in many circles.
Thank you again for writing this post. It is hard to write through the pain and trauma, but my hope is that as more of us do, the women who are silent, or feel they are to blame for the abuse or sexual assault will learn that they are never responsible for such atrocities.
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Thank you for following my blog Renee! I’m looking forward to turning it into a “real” paid blog in a few days, likely via Host Gator, so I can write about more topics that are censored on free WP blogs! Thank you again for taking the time to write! Have a lovely week!
RueAnn
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You know what amazes me? When I first learned about what “rape” was as a child, it was almost unspeakably horrible and scary. Then I spend a couple decades learning from society that it really wasn’t that bad, somehow. When I hear “rape and murder,” somehow it seems like a lesser crime than “murder” on its own. (WHAT?!! but that’s what my brain does. I have to step in and correct that kind of thinking.)
I experienced it, and it really is just as horrible and scary as I’d always imagined. Just FYI.
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It is incredible to me that as a society, we have the audacity to form a hierarchy of assault victims – we still think that a person’s sexual history lets us decide how “harmed” they really were. Thanks for reading.
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