The habit men have of taking advantage of women is a long-standing pastime. It is so interwoven into the fabric of all human cultures and societies that it goes unperceived most of the time. Until now. 1/x
Truth is we don’t lose our innocence. It gets corrupted along the way. Imagine an image that is vibrant, whole, solid, and almost ethereal. Now, imagine that each experience a female has at the hands of various men seeking to satisfy their own sexual appetites erases a portion2/x
of that lovely image. The work of art that was, could have been, might have been gets slowly erased. With each erasure, what is left diminishes and contracts into itself seeking to protect the areas that haven’t been erased yet. 3/x
Still, we move from a childhood in which a trusted male figure erases our ability to trust into a prepubescent era that may get marked with a traumatic moment we’ll have to leave with it alone, exiled from the ability to feel psychological safety. 4/x
Now, our mind is breached. We can’t take refuge there any longer. Still, we move from losing trust, having our psychological safety forever encroached, to navigating the teenage and young adult years. 5/x
We are continually given the advice to be careful of the men around us. Any one of them could slip something in our drink. Could force themselves. Have you not seen the statistics on who does the perpetrating most of the time? You will KNOW your attacker. 6/x
We feel their invisible breath on our necks as a constant, ghostly presence. The uninvited guest cornering us to revel in our fear. Don’t run alone. Use the buddy system. Check your drink. Get the magic nail polish, the magic straw. 7/x
They turn colors in the presence of the insidious elixir designed to rob us of our defenses.
The professor who wants to mentor us is suspect. The kindly book store owner where we hang out is suspect. The collegiate mate eyeing us in class is suspect. 8/x
The professor who wants to mentor us is suspect. The kindly book store owner where we hang out is suspect. The collegiate mate eyeing us in class is suspect. 8/x
The question isn’t “who do we trust?” It’s “how do we trust?” How. Because it takes monumental strength and willpower to allow ourselves the flight of fancy that THIS person won’t harm us. They wouldn’t. How could they? 9/x
Have you seen how they fawn over us? The way they want to be near us. Intoxicating. Then one night of too many intoxicating drinks, fuzzy memories, morning after worry. What? How did this happen? Then, the accusations: 10/x
We asked for it with our sexy dress (we were on a date, he seemed so nice!) We didn't fight back (strange how the glass never seemed empty but our wallets never came out). We're a lush for drinking so much (but we only bought two drinks!). 11/x
The accusations erasing our identity. That work of art now a foggy memory. The many empty spaces leaving behind a shadow of what/who we have been. Meanwhile, our nice young man also leaves us behind moving on to the next selection on his candy carousel. 12/x
We remain diminished. Unable to fill in the erased parts as our battle is now for survival of what remains of our self. The continuous assault doesn't end. No, that would be a mercy. 13/x
We move into our womanhood. Our independence is here, we rejoice! Our first job. Our introduction to the boys' club. To "the way things are done around here." Our joy is muted. Tempered by the realization our supposed independence has a price. 14/x
The hand that lingers too long. The hand that slides down to the small of our back during a greeting. The gaze taking in our body because our clothes hug our body. We learn to desexualize our work wardrobe. Leave behind the sexy heels because even those incite 15/x
the gaze onto our body. We love winter clothes. We learn to like them because they become armor against the gaze.
We join in the colorful, Sexual jokes and innuendo. We learn which men will show up at our office when our attire shifts even slightly. 16/x
We join in the colorful, Sexual jokes and innuendo. We learn which men will show up at our office when our attire shifts even slightly. 16/x
We know which men will brush up against us lasciviously. Gaze at us longingly. We know which ones to sit two seats away from in meetings to avoid the absent-minded brush. We get a reputation for "resting bitch face" and get told to smile more because we look pretty smiling. 17/x
But we lost the smile. We lost the patience to appease. We lost the need to hold on to any semblance of placating those around us. We have lost so much that the loss of caring doesn't register. Until much later. 18/x
Once we stop caring about caring is when the erasure of our self and our identity is complete. We become spiritually broken. Not docile. Broken. The manifestation of our identity becomes a mask, a charade, routine. No trust. No psychological safety. Broken spirit. 19/x
Knowing who our attacker will always be doesn't make us safer. It makes us eternally prey. 20/x
We endure our predator's constant stalking. We are shown how to be pretty and desirable in advertising, on television, through glossy magazines. Indoctrinated into the cult of satisfying the insatiable gaze. Our defenses crumble like Jericho's Walls without our realization, 21/x
until it's too late. Reclaiming our space demands we create a new work of art, a new visualization of who we are so we may become more than what we lost. FIN.
