Women

You Are a Rapist

No matter if she’s young or old, drunk or sober, promiscuous or virgin, same race or different, will remember or not, forced or emotionally coerced, gay, straight, or bi, none of them matter. Once you cross the line the only thing that matters is you raped her…and you became a rapist.

She may heal or she may carry the emotional and physical scars to her grave…and you will still be a rapist.

No matter if you repent and she forgives you, until your grave and then to eternity, you will be a rapist.

She will never be worth less because of what you have done to her…and you will never be worth more than a rapist.

Your action doesn’t have to define her life but, it defines yours. From that point forward, even if you and she are the only ones that know, no matter what achievements or accolades you gain, you will have committed rape and be a rapist.

If your life is spotless from that point forward, it doesn’t change who you are. You are a person that raped someone, a rapist. Period.

There are actions in people’s pasts they can rise above. It is possible to cease being an addict. It is impossible to be a former rapist. That scar on your soul, that word that defines what you did, can not be removed.

You willingly crossed the line. You made the choice to action. There is no excuse. There is no, “I didn’t mean to.” You did not “accidentally” become a rapist. You did it on purpose. You had a choice, to rape or not to…and you decided you WANTED to be a rapist. You wanted the label and the stain. Now, you get to live with that. Your parents and family get to. Your friends now associate with a rapist. Your childhood dreams just became meaningless because you are a rapist.

My opinion may not matter to a rapist. I don’t care. There is nothing lower than you. There is no human below you because, to me, you are sub-human. Contempt is a weak word for what should be shown to you. I hope you enjoy it because that is the best you deserve.

In the end, she will rise above it and you…you are a rapist.

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An Explanation of this Blog’s Direction

In the past two years and change, this blog has been predominantly about LBGT Rights and religious acceptance of Paganism by the Christian community.

Lately, it has been for and to a pair of friends that are rape survivors. That is the direction it will continue to take. There MAY be brief forays into my personal past or some other topic but, those will be directly within the context of being a survivor of something, violence, rape, or addiction.

If you followed under any other pretense or looking for something else, please do not feel deceived.

I have one sole perspective. Rape, no matter if it is forcible or by emotional manipulation, is NEVER excusable. There is no circumstance that makes it an accident. The phrases “boys will be boys” or “just a little action” do not make it right. Being drunk does not allow it. If that perspective offends you, feel free to leave. If you think “he has a sickness” and being a rapist is some kind of “illness” that can be lessened by that perspective, perhaps the one that is delusional is you.

To explain from my perspective, I DO NOT WANT to write these. It hurts. It causes nightmares and physical pain but, that is nothing compared to what happened to my loved ones. My “discomfort” is minor in light of having to live with what they do. The fact that they willingly expose what happened to them and, reading this blog and answering my questions, are forced to relive those actions makes them far more important than what lack of “fun” this may be.

If they want me to write, yes, I asked directly last night and gave them an out, their answer was to continue despite the pain of the telling and reading, means, to me, they have more import than a mere typist. Their courage makes it impossible for me to not be their voice. Their thoughts and hearts have earned my voice. That they know the dark spots in my soul and do not reject me makes them more precious than any sense of self I may have.

There will be more posts directly on track. There will be stories of what they felt and how they survive. There will be discussion of why rape is not reported. It may not always be from their perspective but, they will always be at the front of my head and heart as I write. They are not perfect women. I am not a perfect man. That is the Human Condition. They are not always brave, they fear and panic, yet, they face every day knowing that. Those are parts of them that I admire, facing life with those fears.

Lastly, if you expect a “blame the victim” thought from this blog, you will be disappointed. If you expect any mitigation of what was done by the aggressor, this is not where it will be found. If you expect any view of them other than “they may have been harmed but, they are not damaged”, it will not be here. This perspective is that her body is hers. If she walks naked and drunk down the street, give her your coat to keep her warm and call a cab…unless she wants to be walking naked and drunk… not that she is inviting you to fuck her.

If you expected sunshine and light, or cupcakes and cookies, this is not the place. Rape and violence, as well as survivor guilt, hurt, distrust, and the objectification of women, will never be “light”.

Why Does this Even Need to Be Said…or, If You Think Rape Is a Good Idea, F**k You

I’m out of patience.

That dirtbag, Brock Allen Turner, was the final straw. His father and the judge that excused him was just the icing on the cake.

There is NO excuse for rape. Not for emotional coercion that makes her consent when she doesn’t want to. No excuse for misunderstanding intent. No excuse for “boys will be boys”. No excuse criminal defense lawyers slandering the victim to defend the rapist.

There is not a deep enough Pit in the Christian Hell I believe exists or whatever Karmic Revenge that others believe.

She did not deserve it. She wasn’t “a little action”. She didn’t dress like she was asking for it. Alcohol does not excuse it.

If she didn’t SPECIFICALLY invite you, keep your fucking hands off of her. Period. If she changes her mind AFTER she says “yes”, then you STOP. Is that concept hard to grasp? If it is, I’m sorry to share the same air with you because the level of stupidity and privilege you display might be contagious.

It isn’t a matter of “what if she was a (fill in the blank) relation?” That is not a good enough reason to be offended. It is, her body belongs to HER. It DOES NOT belong to you. She doesn’t exist for your sick games or power trips.

Yes, truth be told, people I love have been hurt by rape, either actual physical rape or emotional coercion that is EXACTLY the same thing. Yes, I am proud of them for surviving. Yes, it hurts me to see them harmed. No, they are not “damaged goods”. In fact, if I weren’t married, either of the two would make a fine wife…in fact, one is a “fine wife” and I love watching that couple interact; the other is merely too young and I am married but, she will be a partner in life that is more worthy than whoever she winds up with.

To reiterate, if you think rape is a good idea, if you make excuses for rape, if you condone in any manner the idea that there MIGHT be some extenuating circumstance, you belong in the same Pit of Hell I hope EVERY SINGLE RAPIST ends up in. You are no better than them. I wish there was a way to imprison those who make excuses for rape and rapists. The fathers that failed to hammer home that basic lesson in humanity, that rape is never acceptable or a right, should have never been allowed to breed.

To the Ladies I mentioned. I do not know how you go on without being filled with hate and rage. I admire you both. You have kept your kindness and gentleness. Your bravery has me in awe of you. I love you both dearly.

Wandering Around in My Head, or Coffee and Gratitude

*grins*

Have I mentioned that the inside of my mind is an odd place? Yeah, I suspect more than twice…

I write about people. Sometimes FOR them. Sometimes TO them but, always about them…well, not really to me…unless you count talking to myself typing as “to” me. *grins* *sigh* In the old days, before the internet, I used to write this stuff out on paper…then throw it away. Long conversations with “someone” of just myself…that I wanted people to read but, never shared. Now I just put in on WordPress. *grins again*…*sighs again*

The thing is, they all have something in common…well more than one, gender comes to mind as a second but, that doesn’t matter…crap, more than one that does matter but, that’s for further down the page…they challenge my perceptions. They make me push the limits of what I think. Not all in the same ways or directions but, all push the edges farther from my nice comfortable middle.

It’s funny, in a way, the people that push me away from that are the ones I want closest, to keep a spot for, if they want it or need it, deep inside, away from the edges. Someplace safe…just while they have made that bigger by making the boundaries expand. I suppose that’s why there’s room for them to begin with? When the borders expand, their center becomes larger…and MINE does, too.

They kick my complacency in the head. They give me two choices, accept them the way they are, unapologetically the way they are, or don’t but, if it’s “don’t” then don’t waste any time sticking around. I stayed.

Maybe that makes me a glutton for punishment…or it makes me smart…

I love them for that.

See, the other thing they have in common is that I love them exactly for themselves. Each unique one of them.

There are 7 odd billion people on the planet. There are 4 that I’m talking to…

Ladies,
You are wild and wonderful, wise and brilliant. You, each one of you, are unique…and precious. You have caused growing pains and with them, growth, my growth. You have made the space for yourselves bigger and by doing that, made me bigger. I didn’t know I needed you when you wandered in but, can not imagine being me without you. Thank you for letting me into your worlds. Thank you for being in mine. I may not spend every second of the day thinking about you but, every day I spend some seconds. You make me think “it’s good to be me”. I hope, that in some way, I’ve been able to give you back the tiniest fraction of what I’ve gained. You…and my wife…are what make my life worth living.
Love,
Miller

*****

Cheap, free, advice, you don’t have to let everyone in but, someone. Trust an old grouch with “issues”. People are the only gift that’s of any importance. Everything is just something you buy.

 

…And Now a Word from Our Sponsor

Being me is an odd place for some values of that word. To say that I have “trust issues” puts it mildly. I compartmentalize people. I am willing to share bits of what I think as the situation demands. I can tell people about the events of my past but, not the “internal” stuff that goes along with them. I guard, with a passion bordering on paranoia, my emotions from the chance of hurt. I will readily push away anyone that I think might cause emotional distress, won’t even think twice about it. Poof, gone. I “run like hell” at the first sign of a chance that I might be coming close to allowing more than superficial trust.

*sigh*

It’s part of being me. Not the best part but, something that exists. Sure, I’m capable of affection and care but, not close enough that affection could be something greater.

So, imagine my surprise, and “distress”, lacking a better word, when earlier this week, someone I sort of knew reached out to me and I replied, just expecting them to vent and be done. I’m a good listener and keep secrets. *editorial, if you ask me not to tell something, I NEVER do* So, she asked if she could “rant” to me. I don’t know why she picked me, not sure she does. We have sort of talked. I knew some of her past. I’ve even blogged about some of it, in a guarded way, in the past when I was talking about how women are treated by men. I digress…

Then the unexpected happened, she started telling me stuff that she really doesn’t tell people. I went from random outsider to, “these are the ugly bits, the private bits, the fears, what cha gonna do with them?”…

And I freaked out. Completely out.Buggy. “Danger Will Robinson”. “RUN AWAY!” out.

I started to. run I mean. I went back into “survival mode”. Was in the process of convincing myself that survival was the best plan. That the old instincts that had served me so well, were the best instincts. That trust is “a fool’s game”. I really wanted to run. I didn’t want to allow the off chance that my fears were correct. I wanted to take the empathy I was feeling and get rid of it. I wanted to not allow the tiniest chance that I might be hurt. I wanted to be ENTIRELY selfish…

So, I didn’t do any of that.

I put some demons to bed by deciding, to consciously allow trust. By deciding to skip the middle bits and go straight to *word for the week* *smile thingie* storge. It’s the Greek word that means ” the love that friends feel for each other… Storge love is unconditional, accepts flaws or faults and ultimately drives you to forgive. It’s committed, sacrificial and makes you feel secure, comfortable and safe.”

What the hell? If I’m going to risk trust and hurt, why not risk everything. Remember those parts a few paragraphs ago about “trust issues”? If that’s hard, why not make the hardest step?…

And I freaked out…again…lather rinse repeat…a couple more times…

And, in the mean time, because of what she has shared, I am, with her permission, writing blogs that are solely about her, these two The Worth of a Soul and Redefining a Person thinking to myself, “what a s**t head you are that you would write to serve a purpose and then run away”. I had accepted her trust, shared my demons in return, and I STILL couldn’t decide to run or stay…and I found myself writing this one Feeding the Demons. In the last one, I made a public statement of commitment. Hard to retract that.

*****

It’s part of my own healing process. I was trying to help her because I am a nice guy…and slammed into my own baggage. That’s the odd thing. I may be helping her but, the reaching out that she started made me face my fears. She didn’t do it intentionally. I think that if she had realized the anguish it was going to cause she wouldn’t have. She can be many things but, cruel is not one. There was no intent to cause stress for me in her. My “public face” is confident and sarcastic. I can be a vocal person. I like to talk. I just don’t like to reveal much. *here doesn’t count. typing at a screen is talking to myself*

She uses the word “test”. We are both being tested in this case. Her’s is, will she decide I’m unneeded and leave when my usefulness is over?

Will she find herself thinking I require too much effort when she has no energy to spare? I wouldn’t blame her if she did.

Mine test  is different. It is,  if she does, how will I react? What if she does walk away? What if she doesn’t need my insecurities while dealing with her own “stuff” and does the smart thing, tell me to “eff off”? Will I say, “yeah, I was right, never trust anyone that hasn’t proven themselves”, “don’t become attached to friends because they ALWAYS let you down”? Or will I try again, knowing the risk?

In the end, only time will tell. Ask me in a year how it went. Ask me in 5 how she’s doing. Check back and see if some demons have finally been put to rest. Yeah, I’m still scared that I made a mistake but, I have to take the chance. I have to try to learn. I think that I have found a person that will not fail the test, I just hope that person is me.

Feeding the Demons

Dear Trinity,

I have some bad news. The demons don’t ever go away. Just when you think you have them beat, they remind you that they never left, just went underground. They let you become complacent while they were retrenching for a counter strike…

It doesn’t seem fair to me, at least I earned my demons. I invited them in, gave them a snack, and let them call my head their home. You didn’t. Yours were uninvited guests. I think that’s why I’m letting mine out, maybe if I give mine some space outside, there’s some room for you to kick some of yours out and a place for them to go. You see, I do have a few more years practice dealing with them. I won’t use the word “gladly” but, “willingly” seems to fit…

First some bad news. You will be sitting in a room full of people and feel alone. There will be times that, for no reason you can identify, you will panic. There will be days that nothing seems to make things any better and you just don’t like being you very much. What a kick in the head way to start, hunh? I have those days. You know that because I’ve come to you with them…

Here’s the deal. demons don’t have to define you. The only people that know they’re there are the one you see in the mirror…and the people you share them with. Choose wisely who you do share them with. Find someone that is willing to love you. *I was looking a word from Greek, the word storge is the one I want. It means ” the love that friends feel for each other… Storge love is unconditional, accepts flaws or faults and ultimately drives you to forgive. It’s committed, sacrificial and makes you feel secure, comfortable and safe.* Let those people in and be loved for yourself. Demons hate that. They can not stand the light of the love that the people that surround you bring…

Remember, though, the demons have  big lies.

They will tell you that you’re supposed to be happy all the time and when you’re not, they’ll be waiting. They’ll tell you it’s your fault that you aren’t. That’s a lie because not every day is happy. Stuff happens. Life happens…

They will tell you that you aren’t worthy. Just take my word for it, you are.

They will tell you that love is false and trust is a fools game. In time, you will learn both. You won’t trust everyone all the time and that’s fine. Some don’t deserve it. Love, on the other hand, the deep abiding love that comes with time and shared life, is ALWAYS worth the risk. I don’t mean that foolish “crush” that school girls have on movie stars but, the kind that looks at you and see’s “forever”. In those eyes, when you are old and gray, you will be the most beautiful woman on the planet. That day will come, when you find that…and the third happiest person for you will be me, because you and they will be the first two.

In time, the demons will start to fade. They won’t ever go away but, they will be less powerful…if you don’t feed them. You WILL  learn to keep them on their leash and, when they slip off, you will be able to put them back…and if you can’t, find me. I’ll be around to listen.

You got this. I’m neither your only friend, nor your best but, I believe in you. You are stronger than the demons. I think you will be stronger than I am…I just have more practice. They live in the past and yesterday is well and truly gone. You got this.

Love,

Miller

P.S. You know all of this. I just said it to remind you when you forget *grins*

Redefining a Person

I wrote The Worth of a Soul a couple of days ago. This is more of her story…

I spent some more hours talking to her yesterday. Now I know more than I expected to know…I really don’t have a clue where to start writing this…I’ll just try writing my reactions to what we talked about and see what happens…

I’ve never met someone that was so open about their sexuality to me, not a woman. Guys brag, she was just blunt and matter of fact. I know details that I think she shared for one of two reasons, either as a test to see if I’d judge and be pushed away or because she is just not willing to lie to me. Probably a bit of both.

There’s a part of me that says, “fail the test and run away fast as you can”.  She is a “complicated”, for lack of a better term, person. There’s a different part that says, “you promised that you would not.”

Keeping my word will win…not because it’s merely keeping my word, though. Let me try to express what I see. *editorial, I am going to let her read this before posting so she may correct any misconceptions I have*

I see, and said publicly, that there is steel in this Lady. Yeah, like a blade still on the forge or hot from the furnace, it needs some work but, the metal is good…

I see someone that has been betrayed by people she should have been able to trust and that taught her to test EVERYONE so, when she does, she’s just following what makes her safe…when she tested me, this time, there probably will be others, it was with more answers than I implied in the questions…

I also see someone trying to like themselves, really trying, and getting better at it…why would I do something as cynical as to not want to see it through because she’s “complicated” and it would be easier not to deal with her baggage?

*****

Realistically, let’s look at this from the other perspective, her’s…

Why put up with me? I mean, what does she stand to gain?

Every time she trusts someone, they screw up and she takes the fall. People have denigrated her for enjoying being her. They shame her for something THEY encouraged. They ask questions and when she answers them truthfully, they tell her she is wrong. How does she know I won’t do that? My generation has caused the grief and baggage she deals with, so why would she expect any more from me?

All she has to go on is that I haven’t let her down…so far… I have not given away her secrets…yet…I haven’t judged her…yet…I haven’t told her she’s worthless…yet but, what reassurance does she have. The only other things she has to go on are one cryptic and disguised reference in a blog post last August and the one on the 12th of this month. Those and my, unproven, promise that I won’t intentionally cause harm or betrayal. That is not a huge sample size. *editorial, I suppose she could ask Aj and Z, see previous posts about those two, if I’m worth trust but, why believe them? She doesn’t know them*

*sigh*

*****

If she’ll have me as a friend, I’ll let her. She IS a survivor. Sure, she comes with a ton of baggage and a self-image that needs some work, to put it mildly, but, no matter what she thinks of herself, I see something different… I think she wants to see herself as ruthless and cold but, even when someone deserved it, she expressed regret. She thinks she uses people, age tells me that the majority of people that think they are getting something for nothing allow themselves to be used.

Interestingly enough, and I think she WILL disagree with this one, I see innocence and naivety. Yeah, she tests but, she hopes, too.

I see a person that used the word “slut” because that’s the word she was told and shamed into  using but, the way society uses that word doesn’t apply. She enjoys sex. So fucking what? Sex is fun. She’s working with me to find a better description *grins* The only thing we’ve been able to come up with starts with “cute” and ends with “plays barefoot in the rain” and has a bunch of words in the middle… *editorial, if anyone that reads this has a better word, please let us know*

She’ a person I’m willing to trust. I can type events from my life here but, you don’t get a chance to come far enough inside to cause grief. I’m willing to give her that chance, that means she’s the fifth living person that has that ability…if she’s willing to accept it…yeah, that’s my “test”, her word, of her…

In my mind she is a fellow “survivor”. We survived different things and different monsters but, we both know what it’s like to crawl out of a pit you believed was too deep to get out of…

In her I imagine seeing  someone I want to watch grow up. *editorial, from an emotional perspective* I want to see how much she’s grown in ten years. There is coming a person that has greatness in them…

It isn’t fun being the blade on the anvil but, the great humans in the world have been that blade. Until steel is hammered and tempered it’s soft and useless. After that, the blade must be ground, polished, and honed to be worth something other than a pry bar. Finally, it must have had the flaws removed by the smith or it’s fragile and wants to shatter. When all the work is done, there is something unique and beautiful. Right now, the blade is on the anvil…In ten years, the smith will be finished. I want to be around for that…

If you might think there’s no steel in her soul, no greatness, ponder this, the last blog about her, the one ONLY about her, I was going to delete. I wrote it and decided that it might cause her emotional harm by saying that stuff publicly. She refused. She told me I had to publish it even to including the line, “And deep down, we had a masochist, a young, teenage slut, who wanted nothing more than to curl up in a hole and die, because she was dirty, scared, and shamed.” KNOWING that was the first thing you would read about her. Whatever her quirks, she’s no ones emotional masochist. Even a masochist wouldn’t allow that to be written. Only strength shares that with the world so that she might help them…

In the end, this, she survived. She will keep growing. She is learning that she isn’t what she thought she was. She’s far greater and is beginning to see it…

Like I have said through this, she’ll be able to edit but, I suspect not. I think the points of the whole thing are this, no one has to be trapped in the places they believe they are. If we give ourselves a chance to quit believing the lies, we can grow. She could. She did.

Women…

Usually, I write right after I wake up. That’s when my brain remembers what it wants to say and it hasn’t gotten distracted by being engaged with thinking. Today isn’t usually…so, maybe this goes into the Great Draft Pile in the Sky…or I decide to eff it and post the damn thing…*editorial, it’s already going downhill because I’m very rarely profane here. “Not here” my favorite word starts with an eff…*

…I have never been a person that engaged in casual sex. It has, every time, been with a person that I thought I could see the potential for “forever” with. I have encouraged others to “get laid” but, just not me. *I don’t mean to get into my own sexuality other than that bit because it applies to the train of thought*

I wouldn’t cheat on my wife if it was offered. Couldn’t. Having said that, the people I seem to like and talk to most are women. Perhaps, because sex has never been casual, it’s because, unlike most cishet males, women have never been “sex objects” to me. Yes, I am able to, and do, see an attractive woman as an attractive woman but, not as an “it” for me to imagine “between the sheets”. Hope this is making sense.

I suppose the reason I like women as people to talk is because, it seems to me, that there is less pretense in their core thinking. The thought, as I’m pondering, is that like my favorite poet, Kipling, alluded to is that the cost of the continuation of the species to y’all leaves very little room for self-delusion. When the upside is surviving childbirth and the downside is fatal, the cost is far greater than what the male has invested in the process…

Anyway…

Yeah, the train of thought drifted away…

Oh yeah, I think that the reason men treat y’all, women, like objects is that we realize that we are scared and in awe of y’all. Truthfully, I’m not sure I could handle the physical and emotional investment that procreation, not sex, involves for y’all all. It’s easier to demean and diminish what we fear than it is to acknowledge it, the fear I mean…

Why do we, men, fear y’all? Is it that childbirth/pregnancy/motherhood scares us? Is it that we realize that, physically, we have done more wrongs to women than y’all have done to us? Is it, again to paraphrase Kipling, that we realize that y’all HAVE to be fearless and far more ruthless than we do? Is it that, at the bottom of things, we wish to possess that which we have no right to own and realizing our weakness, fear our own weakness?

Look y’all, I have male acquaintances and one guy I think of as a close friend but, when I meet someone and think “this person MIGHT be someone I would like to trust as a friend”, invariably she’s a woman. I expect to be lied to by a guy. I expect that they will be a braggart, shallow, and craven. I expect that they will be little substance and all surface. Most times I’m correct.Sure, women like to dress and maintain their appearance but, women dress for themselves, not for others. Men dress to brag. That, in of itself, speaks volumes…

This was such a well-formed thought when I was thinking it…

Perhaps just to end the thought…

I don’t know why there’s even a human race left. I don’t know why women have let us men survive. We haven’t earned it. Our treatment of the other 49.6% of the world has really proved that our only truly useful function is as sperm donors…guys, we need to get over ourselves…

*****

My attitude isn’t quite as harsh as this comes across. I do, however, believe that we, men, need to change our attitudes toward those that gave birth to us.

*****

One parting thought. This is what I’ve paraphrased throughout this…

Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

The Female of the Species

WHEN the Himalayan peasant meets the he-bear in his pride,
He shouts to scare the monster, who will often turn aside.
But the she-bear thus accosted rends the peasant tooth and nail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When Nag the basking cobra hears the careless foot of man,
He will sometimes wriggle sideways and avoid it if he can.
But his mate makes no such motion where she camps beside the trail.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

When the early Jesuit fathers preached to Hurons and Choctaws,
They prayed to be delivered from the vengeance of the squaws.
‘Twas the women, not the warriors, turned those stark enthusiasts pale.
For the female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man’s timid heart is bursting with the things he must not say,
For the Woman that God gave him isn’t his to give away;
But when hunter meets with husbands, each confirms the other’s tale—
The female of the species is more deadly than the male.

Man, a bear in most relations—worm and savage otherwise,—
Man propounds negotiations, Man accepts the compromise.
Very rarely will he squarely push the logic of a fact
To its ultimate conclusion in unmitigated act.

Fear, or foolishness, impels him, ere he lay the wicked low,
To concede some form of trial even to his fiercest foe.
Mirth obscene diverts his anger—Doubt and Pity oft perplex
Him in dealing with an issue—to the scandal of The Sex!

But the Woman that God gave him, every fibre of her frame
Proves her launched for one sole issue, armed and engined for the same;
And to serve that single issue, lest the generations fail,
The female of the species must be deadlier than the male.

She who faces Death by torture for each life beneath her breast
May not deal in doubt or pity—must not swerve for fact or jest.
These be purely male diversions—not in these her honour dwells—
She the Other Law we live by, is that Law and nothing else.

She can bring no more to living than the powers that make her great
As the Mother of the Infant and the Mistress of the Mate.
And when Babe and Man are lacking and she strides unclaimed to claim
Her right as femme (and baron), her equipment is the same.

She is wedded to convictions—in default of grosser ties;
Her contentions are her children, Heaven help him who denies!—
He will meet no suave discussion, but the instant, white-hot, wild,
Wakened female of the species warring as for spouse and child.

Unprovoked and awful charges—even so the she-bear fights,
Speech that drips, corrodes, and poisons—even so the cobra bites,
Scientific vivisection of one nerve till it is raw
And the victim writhes in anguish—like the Jesuit with the squaw!

So it comes that Man, the coward, when he gathers to confer
With his fellow-braves in council, dare not leave a place for her
Where, at war with Life and Conscience, he uplifts his erring hands
To some God of Abstract Justice—which no woman understands.

And Man knows it! Knows, moreover, that the Woman that God gave him
Must command but may not govern—shall enthral but not enslave him.
And She knows, because She warns him, and Her instincts never fail,
That the Female of Her Species is more deadly than the Male.

Because It Needed To Be Said…

I haven’t written in some time. I’ve been on “sabbatical” or just taking some time off. Truth be told, writing the blog hurts. I’m not big on saying that or making excuses so, please forgive me for that. I’m also not one to let a bit of pain stop me from doing what’s needed…

I was looking at a couple of old posts from last year and comparing them to what’s happening and see that societal change is slow. It seems that few people actually think or grow as they age, what happens is that they die off. *sigh* Meaning, that the next generation and their views supplant those that have become deceased. Very few of us have “semi-colon lives”. Those of us that do are still like the deceased ones in that our lives have splits in them, the before and the after. Mine is one so, I was lucky and able to change. I digress…

*****

I keep seeing people talking *editorial, I’m a Fb junkie* about “making America great again” and feel sorry for them. If they don’t recognize that politicians, ALL POLITICIANS, come and go and have nothing to do with the greatness of the country, they missed the point. It isn’t who is in office *editorial, please do not read into this that I am talking about any specific person or office* that makes this country great. The common citizens do. The fact that I am able to have and cherish people with widely differing political views is one sign of that.

The common citizens do. The fact that I am able to have and cherish people with widely differing political views is one sign of that. The fact that I am able to drive as far as I am able or inclined and still not have to cross a checkpoint does. That I am able to work at a job and occupation of my choosing does. That I have the freedom to  f**k up, stand up, and try again does. That I am not hungry does. That I have the freedom to publicly disagree with the government and individuals does…

*****

…and now for that disagreement…

This post was brought on by two things that boil down to one, blaming the victim.

Do you know what we call people that commit crimes? Answer: criminals. We don’t call them “rape victims”. We don’t call them “transgender”. We don’t call them “women” or “men” or “Christian” or “Pagan”. We call them “rapists”, “pedophiles”, “felons”, and “perpetrators”.

We don’t get to claim “presumption of innocence” for ourselves while denying that to those we don’t understand. Period. If we presume to label one group because they are different than ourselves, then we should have the moral courage to desire that same label to be applied to us.

I don’t know if I know anyone that is transgender. I haven’t asked. It really has no bearing on anything, to me anyway. What gender someone appears to be and carries themselves as is what they are.Why would I question that? I suppose, if they want me to know, they could tell me but, I just don’t really care. Being transgender doesn’t make them either good or bad. I’ll base what I think of them on their character and not anything else. Always have been that way, always will…

On the other hand, I know several people that have told me that they are rape victims. Again, I didn’t ask…and am not really sure why they think I’m worth their trust that they’ve shown by telling me. I’ve said something similar to this before but, I’m doing it again…

Your worth to me is because of who you are, not what happened to you. To those of you that I’ve used the word “love” to or about, what happened to you neither increases nor diminishes that. You, the individuals are precious and treasured. I can not tell you to “get over it” because nightmares fade but never quite go away. All I have to help is to let you know that before you told me, you had a place in my tiny heart and after finding out, that place is still yours as long as you allow me to keep it there for you. I hope that is enough to help because that’s all I have.

*****

Do you know what will be the downfall of America? When we pretend to be victims and forget that we are not. When we diminish the REAL victims because we are selfish and full of ignorance.

 

Embrace

Embrace.

That word eliminates fear. It’s hard to be scared of a hug. The warmth of arms wrapped around you and the feel of another heart beat.

Sometimes a hug is just a thought. It’s a quiet prayer in the dark or a memory of a voice. It’s thinking, “that’s my friend and I love her”.

Hugs keep my monsters away.