rapeculture

Dear diary:

We need to stop telling women to be beautiful and good to attract a men; that message has been heard, and has done more harm to women than good. We are telling little girls that boys can’t help but be ignorant to their feelings. We tell them they get teased and bullied because they are liked… we tell them it’s ‘just how boys act’. We make excuse after excuse for bad and inappropriate disrespectful behavior, but an angry women who stands up for herself against this is dismissed as ‘dramatic’ ‘over emotional’ and ‘sensitive’.

How about we start teaching our young men respect. To be good to women, to show and handle their feelings and emotions in a healthy and mature way without defensiveness or violence towards objects or others.
Teach them accountability for their own behaviors and to accept consequences.
Show them how their behavior affects other peoples emotions and make them aware of their part in that, and how ignoring that effects us all negatively.
It’s not men’s war against women, it’s men’s war against feeling; because they’ve been taught for generations that feeling feelings and showing emotions is a sign of weakness.
That women are weak emotional creatures for speaking their hearts, wants and needs.

We need to create an environment where it’s safe for men to express themselves in a healthy way; because repressed emotions lead to aggressive and disturbed behaviors, mental illness, abuse, and violence.
It’s ok to not feel ok. It is not ok to treat someone badly because you can’t handle not feeling ok.

We expect and tell men to take responsibility, yet we teach them to repress their feelings leaving them with a ticking timebomb, hot, and ready to explode when triggered. And not just men. Any child growing up in an emotionally unstable and unhealthy environment had a major challenge to overcome to become emotionally healthy.

We need to teach people it’s ok to feel.
To express themselves healthy and to take responsibility over ourselves towards others. We can all blame our parents, our girlfriends, our boyfriends, our husbands and wifes, or even our boss. We can all be victims of something. But that won’t change anything. You don’t need to become an asshole because of it. Trauma doesn’t need to create more trauma. Be your own example, take responsibility; seek counseling.

Change the narrative. Ask yourself…
What’s the worse that could happen if you choose to live authentically.
Make yourself proud.

My boyfriend took my virginity when I told him I wasn’t ready. I allowed him to kiss me and touch me. I would always ask him not to penetrate as I was not ready for sex. The moment I found out I was no longer a virgin I got suicidal, I wanted to cut myself with a glass. He apologized and promised he’d never leave me. Every time I would talk to him about it I would cry. He said I was talking about it a lot as if I wanted someone else to break it. I was not ready. It’s been 3 years now and I always cringe at a mention of his name, it triggers me. I still get suicidal thinking about it.

Am I a rape victim? #Survivor of rape and or molestation #RapeSurvivors #rapeculture #rapevictim #Rape

I was so excited for Halloween this year. We got to dress up and I decided on poison Ivy but with a 1950's vibe. I didn't think it was anything risque. I found a dress that went below the knee, covered my shoulders but happened to come down in a V. However, had lots of fabric so, I felt didn't show too much apparently, I was wrong.
You see; I grew up w body dysmorphia disorder, and have been through a lot but for as long as I could remember, I saw myself as disfigured. My only way to overcome my own self deprecating ideals was to forget and ignore what I look like and pretend to see myself as "passibly cute".
Anyway, I went to work happy only to have my joy and what scrap of self confidence dashed. I'm a curvy girl. So apparently, my cleavage showing was more that people could handle. 😨😭
I was pulled aside by my two of my male managers to ask me to "cover up". Until that moment, I was truthfully and blissfully unaware of my body but then all my insecurities came back to bury me. I pinned my top closed as best as I was able with a red face and continued with my work day as best I could.
I want to refuse to allow others discomfort with another human's appearance to affect me but I can't shake how awful this made me feel and have not slept over pondering the whole scenario.
You see, I found out that customers apparently complained. Two male customers and a female with her adult son who I was told couldn't stop staring at me. It made me feel "dirty" whereas before the experience I felt as glad and normal as possible given my mental and emotional scars. There are A LOT of traumas that I have worked to overcome in my lifetime (I am over 40!) and its such a long story.
I just don't know how to process this. I'm angry, saddened, left feeling...raped again.
I want to get in their faces and scream, "How dare you look at me and criticize my body?! Who cares about the crack between my shoulders, the crevice created by Boobs. Tits. Mammories!!"
Jeez, I don't even realize those fleshy, fat filled skin sacks still hang off the front of me most of the time. 😞 Look away! Keep your opinion to yourself (and lady) tell your son that it's INAPPROPRIATE to stare at a woman!!" 😡
However, it just saddens me to no end. It makes me want to curl up and hide from people. To just let go of all the years of working on overcoming agoraphobia, self harming,, suicidal ideation, deeep depression, debilitating anxiety... so many etceteras....
I'm desperately fighting unraveling. 😣
#BDD #suicidal ideation #Depression #Anxiety #rapeculture

NSFW, Adult Content

I'm tired of feeling guilty for having grown up in a society that is vomit-inducingly, rage-inducingly women-oppressing to the point that we females all grow up thinking, from before the age of /puberty/ for s#!t's sake, that we have to put out to be liked, suck d!ck to be loved, take it in the a$$, want sex as much as men do, have sex even if we don't feel like it, keep our men happy in the bedroom however they want it and with more and more kink and lingerie and role-play lest they sleep around on us, always be fun and happy and flirty so they don't ever feel bored, annoyed, glum, or angry (heaven forbid if /we/ 'make' /them/ feel angry), and in general have no autonomy in the bedroom nor a relationship because they can't fü¢k¡ng handle that they grew up in the same fü¢k¡ng world yet like it that way - so they play a role, expressing: how dare we feel smothered when they stick their d!ck in our face or pressured when they expect it to be sucked on their wedding night, and how dare we feel accosted and not like when our husbands jump into bed with erections pressed into our a$$es and grab our t!ts with obvious expectations - how dare we deny them what porn and society have taught them is their birthright; how dare we make them feel like part of the horrible, oppressive world that we /all/ grew up in and that is an assault to female existence, because they “didn't know” it wasn't right nor fair and thus “can't help” but act this way - instead of recognizing and seeing the world for what it is, as we women have all too keenly seen for far, far too lon; instead of being compassionate, calm, understanding, patient, caring, and gentle with us when we are nervous, hesitant, or silent during sex but can't find the words to say: “Wait, I'm having a moment, this is uncomfortable for me; I don't know if I want to do this because I've been told I must my whole life, and right now I no longer know where society's sexual pressures end and my sexuality begins”?

#Sex #oppression #MentalHealth #Pressure #Society #pornculture #rapeculture #suckit #lickit #takeit #doit #putout #tease #prude #frigid #worthless #Depression #Anxiety #rumination #Worrying #Fear #Uncomfortable #neverenough justafcktoy #sexbotscantcomefastenough #nopunintended

How could I tell someone that I was forced to make love?

Sex is normal, no doubt it is when you’re allowed
Well, I’m pretty sure you know the consequences, when the sex became a rape.

I give you rules, rules that define the restrictions between us.
I clearly stated that I don't allow SEX in our relationship.
You agree, well, I expect that it's a deal

So trust your sweet words
Those words that made me feel safe and sound
You treated me fair and love at the beginning

What a dignified man!

You asked for a kiss, I give you a smack
You told me that the French kiss is much better than smack
So I asked myself what the hell is a French kiss
I was innocent of this kind of exploration
You kissed me passionately
I felt uncomfortable and uneasy
I wasn't ready for a kiss

I pushed you away
But you are strong and stiff
I found myself laying at the corner of your bed
I can feel the ache of my body
Bloodstained sheets
ripped clothes
And there was you lighting your cigarette

I go home as nothing happened
But that day,
I shamed myself, I feel nothing but hate

#RapeSurvivors #rapeculture #Stronger #StayStrong #live #Anxiety #DID

(CW/ TW: trauma, rape, abuse)
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... I didn’t think that one time in college counted as rape because I got out of the guy’s dorm room before there was penetration. Even though I repeatedly told him to stop touching and groping me when I was drunk in his dorm room.

... I didn’t think it counted as rape another time, years later, with another guy in his bed, when I woke up to him fingering me, because I didn’t tell him no when I realized what was going on. Even though I was unconscious when he started doing that.

... I didn’t think I was abused when I was 10 or 11 and my dad physically restrained me and covered my mouth with his hands to “shut me up.” Even though I panicked because I feared suffocation.

... I didn’t think I experienced emotional abuse because my parents never told me they didn’t love me or called me names. Even though they did ask me who I was “performing for” when I got upset, and mocked me and criticized me for “pushing the panic button,” for being “too sensitive” and “too emotional” and “carrying on.”

.. I didn’t think I had PTSD but instead thought I got anxious about “insignificant” things. Even though I’ve had insomnia since elementary school, and ever since I can remember I’ve been easily startled, with irritability and angry outbursts, have dreaded visits with my family of origin, and felt restless and keyed up and on edge at what seemed like random times but actually were times I felt trapped and/ or silenced.

... I didn’t realize these things because I was raised not to. Because my family and an entire culture needed me to think that what I felt was my fault, so that I wouldn’t disturb the status quo. Accurate labels destabilize entire systems. I wasn’t broken. The systems around me are.
#CPTSD #Childhoodabuseandneglect #ChildhoodEmotionalAbuse #PTSD #rapeculture

The aftermath is what sticks
Those words crystal clear
After the event fades
To a distant fear

The fallout personified
As an officer who laughed
Next to the bloodied victim
Convinced that she lied

It is not the sadistic collector
Who destroys her faith in men
But the uniformed protector
Unmoved by her broken body

The fracture of her pelvic bone
Face painted black and blue from within
He sighs, bored, thinking he is alone
Prodding her wrist shattered under torn skin

Her concussed head is bent
Carpet fibers still burn her throat
As he reports back to dispatch
“no reason to believe there wasn’t consent”

Her heart falls as he grunts
“drop the charges”
Releasing the man who hunts
Vulnerable lost girls

The one who bound her less haunting
Than med students snapping photos
Debating if she was worth wanting
Giggling, “too fat to be rapeable”
__________________________
Flashing back to when as a child
The pervert with wandering hands
Instilled a visceral response
That lingers and flares up

He made her skin crawl
But when she tried to report it
The words of the teacher in the shawl
Are what destroyed her

He stripped her of dignity
But she peeled away her trust
and made her question everything
knowing the system was unjust

________________

It’s not the man who had her by the hair
But the guard who stood by calmly
As she was dragged down the stair
“take her” he shrugged again
Backing away, “I really don’t care”

It’s the fallout not the impact
That breaks their hearts
Rape culture is fact

#RapeSurvivors #rapeculture #MeToo

We’re sensitive people living in a system designed by rich white cis male sociopaths for their own benefit at everyone else’s expense.

Maybe we’re just having a normal trauma response to the way those inequities have played out in our lives.

So why do we allow that same abusive system to label us with an immutable defect of character when we’re having a completely understandable response to the conditions under which we live?

#BorderlinePersonalityDisorder #PersonalityDisorders #ComplexPTSD #Capitalism #Kyriarchy #patriarchy #rapeculture #ChildhoodSexualAbuse #WhiteSupremacy

I have to beat my addiction. Its easier for me to describe like this: #mightypoety #SexualAssault #Rape #SexualAbuse #exploitation #Healing #violence #rapeculture #rapetrauma #SelfMedicating

There is a ‘demon’ inside my brain, and it has managed to gain near total command. The demon is This addiction, to something which was once helpful, as a temporary release, from the anguish of what was going on around me, and to me, to others as well.

I need to reclaim my own mind, and get control back from the ‘demon’. Take back the reigns.

It’s going to hurt me, it will scream and kick and shout at me. All of it’s might, will thrust forward, as the Demon attempts to survive. Clenching, hard onto these reigns, dominating my head space, it is adamant that it shall not relinquish, the throbbing life source, the ‘treasure’ it found within me. That Demon’s ‘treasure chest’ was not, as one might expect, in the form of a breakable crate, dripping with Gold, jewels, wealth and happiness.

Rather, it is the antithesis of such a positive glowing beacon.

‘Treasure’ for this Demon, was in fact the lack of it. The emptiness. The hollow crate, where once stood self-belief, self-love, self-esteem, ambition, hope and will. When the world around me came to blows, and stripped away everything about me, everything I held so dear and close... The tsunami which washed out happiness, stole my love of life, swept away the love of my life, crippled my career, took away all livelihood. All that was left was my soul.

When the rape came, my soul seemed all but smothered. All that was left of me, was an empty shell of self.

That is what this Demon treasures, the hollow cave, where once sparked my soul, that is it’s dreadful power. Power to remain captain of this ghostly vessel, steering my ship beneath it’s own sails, and into the ever blackening darkness.

Yet my soul remains, as do my sails, and all the fire within me could never be smothered. The Demon knows this, and it frightens it’s core. Hence it’s rampage. It fears the fateful inevitable. That once again my soul with sail this ship, the opportunistic Demon, shall lie, defeated. Not merely smothered, completely extinguished.