We don’t even trick-or-treat on this road because there aren’t enough neighbours. Instead, we drive 20 minutes into town and go in someone else’s neighbourhood, where the houses are close enough together that we can walk. We have to leave this house to feel joy.
And as someone who experienced sexual abuse as a child from my mom’s boyfriend, which my dad knows about, I felt completely betrayed. I don’t know that we’ve to this day completely integrated this information. I know I would have wanted someone my age with my skills to say something to my abuser about what he did to me, so I needed to confront it. The whole issue sickens me. This entire day I remember so clearly because of that knowledge coming to the forefront.
Listen, things aren’t getting worse. They’re just getting louder. And so the attempts to drown out the truth increase in volume as well. We all get to decide who we hear, and who we don’t. No one is saying it’s easy. But for me, at least, it’s simple.
I felt the talk went really well. I had cut two pieces from the body of it only the night before because my read-through had been 37 minutes and was meant to be 30. I did this so that I could fit in two new anecdotes that I felt gave weight to my subject. I talk about the experiences I had with child sexual abuse and sexual assault, and interweave this telling with my resiliency, which for me was writing.
Patriarchy hurting men is like the negative side effects of a very effective drug. Men could just stop taking the drug – they could fight against patriarchy, they could opt out of the benefits, they could do the work to support women and uplift our voices and deny the undeserved power bestowed by millennia of near global male control. But with vanishingly few exceptions, men do not. They like the drug.
I woke up early to the pink streaks of sunrise over the snow-covered lake. I took a moment to rest in gratitude for this experience and then I got up. I ran through the portion of my talk that includes improvisation, and got ready for the day.
The differences always sit in the details In the degree Because it was your boyfriend But it was her dad and you didn’t tell the police but she had and you felt horror, shame, helplessness and she can only say ‘…it was bad’ you want the freedom to rage with her it’s okay to tellContinue reading “Disclose – A Poem”