Monday, October 28, 2019

My Version of "#MeToo"


As long as I have been alive, I have faced a great deal of sexism and abuse, mostly emotional, from the opposite sex (and sometimes the same sex) with the attempts to silence, subdue, and cause me to become submissive.  For a good part of my life, I accepted these abusive influences as truthful fact and went along with their control in an attempt to not rock the boat and to just get along.  I never rose my voice and if I ever did I faced some form of punishment.  This form of sexist abuse came from many a source; boyfriends, male employees and bosses, my husband, and a smattering of church issues.  Whatever the reason or root cause, each individual and organization was bent on enforcing the common societal belief of patriarchal rule, or at leat wanting to maintain it.

The overwhelming inner reality and truth was that I was not happy, not being truthful with myself, my desires, needs, and ambitions.  Thus follows, my story of how I overcame this systematic social abuse and reclaimed my life and self worth, my version of "#MeToo".

The first recollection I have of any sort of sexual assault, if it were, was my freshmen year of high school.  I am riding home on the boss, the last of two students.  Behind me sits a sophomore boy, who was always believed to have come from some kind of  of negative influence.  He was often seemingly dirty,  not showered, clothes not laundered, hair and beard unkempt, with just an overall sense of anger and unhappiness, a disregard.

On this day, he is sitting kitty corner and a seat down.  As we near my stop, he says to me, "Hey."  I glance back and am immediately overwhelmed with horror at the sight.  His pants were pulled down around his legs, his penis out; I, a virgin at this time, had never seen a man naked let alone a penis.
The bus driver stopped a block away from my stop, an often mistake.  I didn't care to tell her to move on to the next.  I hurried off the bus and ran down the street, not looking back, and collapsed on the pavement, shaken.  A few days later, I confided this to my best friend at the time, who encouraged me to tell the vice principal and thus I did.  Although the boy received punishment from the VP, the damage was still done.  The idea that he would think doing such a thing was somehow acceptable and would warrant a positive reaction from me is something I cannot understand or realize to this day.

I have memories of boys leaning to closely in the halls, trying to grab my breasts, me covering myself with my arms in repulsion and fear.  Another time in my early twenties, when I was helping my friend close the cafes, another "friend" followed me into the bathroom, blocking me from leaving, leering at me suggestively.  I was speechless with horror.

There was the time my college best friend and I were walking down a city street in San Francisco. I looked to the side to see a man, sitting in the driver side of his car, pants pulled down, penis erect.  Horrified, I looked away and told my friend, who groaned in disgust.  A memory I cannot erase.

Then, there is the times at Calvary Chapel, being shuttled off to "Purity Conferences", separated from the boys as a male pastor lectured us not to wear any sort of revealing clothes as we were causing our brothers to stumble into sin.  It was our fault if they fell, not any fault of theirs.  Afterward, trying to talk to a male friend at church, having them step quicker and quicker away from me as I approached with a simple "hi".  I grew more and more shameful of my body, allowing the anorexia and body dysphoria to take over.  Maybe, I thought, if I become child-like in form again I won't be such a threat.  It has taken me years to learn to love and accept myself for who I am, and only after surrounding myself with like-minded sufferers and spiritual abuse survivors, who poured out love over me as I shared stories that they, too, could relate to and understand.  Laughter spilling over the incredulous of what happened to us and a real close-knit friendship formed, a family of sorts, an anti-religious fellowship formed as a result of the deconstruction of our faith and loss of trust in the church (even if we have yet to see each other face to face).

Then another memory, my now ex-husband screaming at me, about not completely washing the dishes the right way, not cooking the food the right way, slamming his fist into the wall, throwing a tea kettle across the room, breaking glasses, plates, etc.  To this day, the sound of shattering glass raises my anxiety level.   I can still feel the horror of having him flatten me against the wall, screaming obscene accusations in my face, pushing me down on the bed, shoving his fist in my face as I fell on the couch....

All of these memories and more compounded onto one another to develop an inward self loathing and lack of love for myself.  Until recently, I have never believed myself worthy of love.

Yes, I have forgiven myself and moved on from this, but its been a long struggle and journey to healing, to getting to that place of "no fucks given".  What I have found is that even though I have reached this point, the sexism and abuse has not ended.  The patriarchal rule still seeks to drag me down, give me that disparaging look of "who do you think you are, lady?" The difference now is I don't let it affect me.  It's a reality and a fact of life that plagues every women in our society, regardless of her social standing or profession.

This is why the #metoo movement is such a wonderful movement for me. It's the first time that we, of the female variety, can unite together and express the silent struggles we have faced.  Because men don't often know that it is happening or even that they are the cause of it.  Men, in a very real way, are also victims of this patriarchal influence, as its how they have been taught and raised, however subliminal.  Yes, well meaning men are somehow unaware of how their behavior continues the sexist influence.

For that reason, I am very excited about seeing the birth and creation of the thriller film trilogy, Make Me Smile.  As the story unfolds, a female protagonist will seek revenge in a similar fashion to the abuser, the reality of women rising up to empowerment remains the truthful message and theme of the entire story.  The general population of women who boldly stated "Me Too" on social media would not attempt or do need to react violently to their male abusers, but for the purpose of a thriller the end result of the same that of a woman standing up for herself and her sisters in the face of sexism and abuse.

And, for this I can relate.

Help make "Make Me Smile" a reality.  Donate at: https://www.gofundme.com/f/makesmile
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