Disgusted to the Point of Vomiting.
I'd seen a similar piece on tv many years ago where a girl was r*ped, but because she stabbed him, possibly even killing him, she was the criminal.
It bothered me about the whole "It's a cultural thing" that was used against me to defend the guy, who was Iranian. If I were an Iranian woman, wouldn't I be disgusted that that is tolerated in my culture? It's in every culture, but when it's a non-white culture, then it's excused as cultural. FUCK THAT!!!!!!!!!!!
I hate that excuse. If I felt that was wrong and unjust, I doubt I'd use that as a reason for someone to violate another person. R*pe is r*pe regardless of culture. You shouldn't just excuse it simply because it runs rampant in one culture while it's given a different reason in another.
My username should have been "Disgusted", because that whole incident and the aftermath has left me with this feeling ever since, and if I ever find a reason to forgive some people's ignorance, malice, vengeance, denial, anger, bargaining and ostracization, then I'll finally be rid of this, but I doubt that'll happen. I'd love to forgive, but it makes no sense for me to do that. They also say, "Never say never", but the word "never" is stuck in my brain.
How do you forgive someone who knew what they were doing? How do you forgive someone who heard you say no but told you you were losing?
How do you forgive someone that used your sexuality against you by saying that it's better between a man and a woman, simply because you were dancing with another woman? What gave him the right to tell me who I'm suppose to sleep with and then tell people that I wanted it?
How do I forgive someone who insisted that I liked it when I didn't, yelling this at me because I said no?
Who would have thought that waking up that xmas morning would've turned into the beginning of a trauma I'll never get over?
How can I forgive people who only cared about his side and dismissed mine?
Blind loyalty is my answer to most of these questions.
If my brothers, my dad or any of my male family members actually r*ped someone, I don't know if I could be as blindly loyal to them as those neighbours were to him. I don't know if I'd stick around for the outcome, if I could give him words of encouragement, if I'd stand my ground and risk being ostracized by my entire family. I am a fan of Michael Jackson, and that messes me up. Was his family showing blind loyalty towards him too or did they know the truth? You idolize someone for most of your life, then the whole molestation allegation happens.
I can't stop being angry, disgusted, unjustified, rejected, (especially rejected), humiliated, disrespected, disregarded, insulted, scape-goated, gaslighted, horn-swaggled, hood-winked, berated, laughed at, out-casted, ruined, belittled, lectured, emotionally abused, mentally abused, on top of the whole sexual abuse. It was one of the worst incidents of male chauvinism I'd experienced.
Wherever I go, whatever path I'm walking, no matter what time of day, I'm thinking, "I could get r*ped right here and I'd be ignorantly blamed for it". Any man I see or sit in the company of, I wonder if he's raped anyone and gotten away with it? I wonder if someone will break into our house, or worse, if I'm at work, I go to the bathroom and I'm followed by some guy who'd rape me. Not some career r*pist but some average guy who wants to see if he can get away with it.
I still can't believe I'm made responsible for someone else's actions against me!
Going to "friends" was harmful. Going to "the law" was just as harmful if not worse. Finding someone to trust was the worst thing I did. I'd like to think that seeking therapy was good to some degree, but I don't know anymore. The guy who I talked to was suppose to listen to me, and that's good and bad. Good in that at least I was talking about it. Bad in that I had to seek out a total stranger who was licensed to listen to me and that people I trusted were too stupid, ignorant and just all around.......I don't know how far I can trust my friends with this? There've been so many other friends I wanted to talk to about this, but all I'm doing is dropping a bag of sharp knives on their heads and disrupting their minds with what I went through. Nobody want to hear that it happens, that someone they know had it happen to them, that it could happen to that. That's why many say, "Oh, it would never happen to me", like they're shielding themselves just with that belief until they're proven wrong. Nobody wants it to happen, so they justify all sorts of stupid things on why it happened to you. Nobody can accept it, which is why they go through the 5 stages of grief: denial, anger, bargaining, depression and sometimes acceptance.
I'd like to believe that simply knowing the facts of the incident was my stability while everyone else stuck to their myths about it, but for all I know, they're holding fast to the most awful things they chose to believe for themselves. I'd like to forgive them for being on the other side of that door, that since the incident I've been forced on the other side of what really happens, but I'm waiting for something to click in and say that the pain has finally gone, that I can now have peace of mind. I'll never be at peace until I get some resolve or an indication that I'm not worthless like they made me feel.
I really wish I could turn back time, stay in my room or not have gone into his room, or punched him.
I often wondered that if I did get away from him and I told someone what almost happened, would they believe me still? If I didn't go into his room and told someone that I had an awful feeling about him, would they believe me then? If he r*ped someone else, would I be just as ignorant as the others and join in? If he didn't r*pe me then, would he have waited another day and done it?
If I found a creative outlet to vent all of this somehow, how would I do it? Would I do a performance art, write a book, do workshops? What? I have this in my body and it won't get out for fear of worse repercussions.
I think about r*pe every single day, thanks to that bastard. "But he's a good person, a decent guy, a good friend" was their only argument, their lamest and weakest argument of why I should dismiss my allegation, but that's like saying, "It's only cancer". I just never imagined the people I knew to be so belittling and oblivious to it.
You know, I could write about this everyday. I spend so much time on the internet anyway, watching YouTube videos, going on Vimeo, playing on Twitter and Facebook, that why not write my thoughts on here? I had a r*pe diary years ago, thinking that venting in it would make me feel better, but my last entry was all large angry letters of how much worse I feel and that I felt no better. I just dump my emotions in my journals to the point that it's like looking in the toilet afterwards. I don't want to relive the experience after writing it. Maybe it would make me feel better if I set them all on fire? I'd have to find the parts to re-record before I did that. I already have Keri Smith's "Wreck This Journal" for the simple purpose of abusing it. Right now, it's in a zip-loc bag half-way done, but it's been sitting in their for weeks neglected. That's how I'm wrecking it: neglect.
Anyway, I went off track there, but that was good in a frivolous way.
It's almost bed time. My mom is coughing her head off with pneumonia. My dad is either in bed or watching tv in the living room.
I'm having a birthday lunch with a friend that's broke, so I'd better have my debt and credit cards on hand.