I don't ever want to hear people complain about "cancel culture" and the #MeToo movement being "too much" and threatening "freedoms". Literally a serial rapist with more than 50 victims walked today, Kevin Spacey also a rapist is doing movies again, and the list goes on and on. Every day women are being victimized and their victimizer walks free. Manlets like Joe Rogan that constantly spew fear-mongering rhetoric around "canceling" being the worst thing are the biggest culprits in creating this narrative. A great injustice was committed today and people have the right to be upset.
We were at our internship, in the office, working, just goofin’ around, we only just met when the internship started, and for whatever reason we came to talk about our friend groups and how we are both friends with people who love to party and get drunk, meanwhile we represent the complete opposite.
Anyways, we were laughing at how we get called boring and how we’d rather have a night in playing sing star.
Then quietly she snuck out the sentence: “I have bad experiences with parties.” Laughing without the smile reaching her eyes. I made an awkward laugh and asked what happened, expecting to hear a classic story of a drunken embarrassment.
Turns out I was wrong. So wrong.
She laughed uncomfortably as if what she was about to tell me was stupid, shameful or something to feel guilty about. She stared blank into the computer screen and took a breath.
Her words:
“A few years ago I was in the city partying with some friends. I wanted to go home and decided to walk since I only lived a few blocks away. I was about thirty meters from the clubs walking past the public restrooms, when out of the blue someone grabbed me and dragged me into one of the restrooms. It was a group of guys. With no way of escaping they took me in turns...”
She paused.
“The other day I had an evening shift and I sat here in the office crying. My boyfriend had borrowed my car, which meant I had to walk home. Just a few blocks. But ever since that night I have been scared to walk home alone in the dark.”
When she finished talking I was sad at first. But more than that I was angry.
How is it that I, at an age of 22, now know 3 people who have been raped?
One, a boy, in his own house. It was a bootycall, but my friend changed his mind and didn’t want to go through with it. The man he had called didn’t care and raped him.
The second, was in the city partying with friends, and went for a smoke with a mutual friend. That “friend” forced her to give him a blowjob. After that she offered him money to leave her alone. He took the money and then he raped her.
Even myself have had troubling and scarring experiences with boys and men.
And now this girl...
Some pressed charges others didn’t, but no attackers were sentenced. They. All. Walked. Free.
How is it that survivors are ashamed of what happened TO them. What was done TO them. What was done BY THE ATTACKERS ONLY. Meanwhile the attackers walk free without fear. They can walk alone in the dark. They can go on dates without sending their location to friends. They don’t have to think about how they dress. And worse; they don’t have to face a society preaching to them about what THEY could have done to have AVOIDED being attacked.
They take what they want without consequences, because society allows it. Meanwhile the ones who get hurt (or have potential of getting hurt. Aka: women) have to live their lives in fear based on the mistakes made by THOSE ATTACKERS. MEN.
How is that fair?
I am glad that so many survivors and supporters have started to speak up about this SOCIETAL problem. But my blood BOILS when people start overshadowing this by saying stuff like “nOt All MeN...” “hOw ArE mEn SuPpOsEd To TaLk To WoMeN nOw...” “mEn CaN bE sCaReD tOo”
STOP! Obviously it’s not all men. There are many great, wonderful men in the world. But this is about WOMENS SAFETY. AND if MEN are afraid to walk alone at night, it’s not women they are afraid of it’s OTHER MEN.
Women have the right to feel safe. Feeling SAFE is a human right.
TEACH BOYS TO BEHAVE, BE RESPECTFUL AND TO NOT OBJECTIFY WOMEN.
It will NEVER be the woman’s fault. Never.
I am so sorry if you or someone you know have ever been a victim of inappropriate behavior, rape or any kind of assault.
Also I am thankful to the men who stand with women and see that there is a problem and will correct their male friends when they sense inappropriate statements or behavior. We need you.
Our 3rd episode on this spicy subject of he said, she said but now officially US courts. Join us 🎙 #JohnnyDepp #AmberHeard #MeTooMovement #AquaMan #CancelCulture #PiratesOfTheCaribbean #NowPlaying #DomesticViolence #NowStreaming #Podcast #SoCal #LosAngeles https://www.instagram.com/p/CcZGKo0JSP5/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=
As someone who has lived with abuse, stalking a harassment for most of her life I would ask people not to trust callout posts on the internet because it's a huge red flag. The first thing all abusers...
Let’s talk about this now.
Everything that follows in this post is totally my own opinion. It has nothing to do with Jill; it wasn’t read by her or condoned by her. It’s my story and my experiences, and I think it’s important in this context because some of a survivor’s worst enemies are often other survivors.
As someone who has survived abuse, and as someone who is currently in training to become a Court Appointed Special Advocate for youth victims of abuse and domestic violence, I’m going to explain why internet callouts and motions like the #MeToo movement are not only something you can believe, but that you should believe because of the complete and systematic failures that continue to persist in our real-life institutions of justice.
Please heed the tags. Nothing is in too graphic of detail, but I remember when just the words were enough for me.
TW: Abuse, Neglect, Gaslighting, Sexual Assault, Pedophilia, Trafficking, Drug Use, Mental Illness, Violence
I spent a majority of the first years of my life in sexual slavery.
Before April, 2004, pseudoephedrine could be purchased over the counter and without an ID in the United States. Tablets of it were used across the nation to manufacture what some people still call “the drug of the 90s:” methamphetamine. In 2021, many people might know meth because of television shows like Breaking Bad, and make xenophobic jokes about Mexican drug cartels and the infamous “Wall” while breaking up blue-tinted sugar candy.
The truth is, few people our age this day remember methamphetamine use being the epidemic it was when Oklahoma enacted its ban of pseudoephedrine in stores. In 2005, which required medication to be sold at licensed pharmacies and for purchasers to present a photo ID to acquire limited amounts, OK officials located and shut down 334 home meth labs -- less than half of the 812 seized before the ban.
In fact, meth use was so widespread and easily accessible that 93% of people who went through rehabilitation for it would end up using again. It was viciously addictive, and the help that was offered was only a drop in the bucket of a growing sickness that the government wrote crime bills to control instead of trying to treat the symptoms. By 2004, it was too late for a lot of people. By 2004, it was too late for me.
My birth parents spent their entire lives addicted to meth. My birth mother grew up in the American foster care system and was adopted as a teenager by junkies in the deep South; my birth father was a paranoid schizophrenic who spent the first 7 years of his life locked in a closet by his parents until they lost custody, and then aged out of the system. She used drugs to get away from the fact that her birth parents despised her; he used meth to “calm” his paranoid rages when he couldn’t afford medication. They both tried rehab. They both failed to stay sober.
They had several children before us. My birth mother miscarried. She tried again. My birth father lost custody of his first before he met her, and they relapsed together and lost custody of a second child. That child died from complications of neglect.
They had me.
They stayed sober for six months. They relapsed again. They weren’t smart enough to make meth, so they bought it. They had another kid. My birth father lost his job. They couldn’t afford it. They couldn’t afford medicine or food. They had no money, they couldn’t get work, and so they gave up what they did have.
2004 was too late for me.
When the ban came, my parents moved to try to escape. We came to a new state. They found a job. My “uncle” became their new dealer and they paid the only way they knew how. One day, a SWAT team showed up at our door. They told us we could pack one box of our belongings, and that was the last time we ever belonged to those people.
The law chased them down, but not for what they did to us. They were given a plea deal; my birth parents would sell out their suppliers and their “business partners,” and they wouldn’t go to prison. The entire case would be locked up, the records closed, and they could try to get their kids back.
My parents never served a single day for their crimes.
They showed up once to visitation. They kissed me. They promised me they would come back. I privately wished that they would disappear forever, and they did. I later learned they relapsed the day before our next visitation, and had parental rights terminated.
The law does not protect children. It rarely protects the victims that it’s meant to, but it never protects people who can’t speak for themselves. Unless you have money, no one will care. If no one cares, your transgressors will never, ever answer for their crimes. To this day, the United States Justice System will not let me own records or copies of records of the case against my parents. I couldn’t speak until I was six years old. When I was put into foster care, I couldn’t eat solid food for three months. My gag reflex was so bad I couldn’t brush my teeth comfortably until well after I was adopted. I trembled under my bed because my nightmares blended into my waking hours and I was so scared I couldn’t even scream.
When I turned 18, my birth mother found me. She lives with my birth father in a state known for its rampant meth use. She had another child. He’s 14 now. He plays soccer, has girlfriend, learned the flute last year, and his favorite Pokemon is Rayquaza. He got all A’s in his final year of middle school. They started over.
I talk to him sometimes. I don’t talk to her, because when I asked her to apologize for what happened, she told me the government was lying to me. She told me there were two sides to every story. She told me that my adopted parents had poisoned me against her. She called me an ungrateful little whore and told me that God would punish me one day. She told me she was a victim, too, and she deserved a relationship with me.
She is a victim. I still remember the sound when my birth father broke her arm in a rage when she threatened to leave him.
I also still remember trying to hide with her as she lay on her bed, high as a kite, not so much as lifting a finger to help me.
Being a survivor doesn’t give a person the excuse to minimize the experience of other survivors. Some people get justice. A lot of people don’t. Sometimes the police swoop in and make predators pay. Sometimes they shoot mentally ill foster children to death because the alternative takes too much time and effort. Technology is a useful tool, because it gives a voice to the voiceless. It empowers people who are made powerless. My adoptive parents didn’t believe me when I finally had the words to say “I was harmed.” They beat the shit out of me when I was little for trying to draw out what was wrong. They stopped letting me see a therapist when she told them I showed signs of serious trauma from sexual violence. The internet gives a rope to people who are stuck in a whole with everyone around them calling them a liar. Technology gives survivors and outlet to make their story their own again.
Your story doesn’t erase other peoples’ stories. People who are nice to you can be hurtful to others. What you see isn’t necessarily the truth and until we have a government that survivors can rely on it’s always, always important to believe survivors.
My 3rd example of reconstruction was the use of a mount. I used the cutting of a Japanese maple bush in direct contrast to the plastics.
The union of the natural branch with the man made ‘leaves’ sparks ongoing thoughts & continued conversations...
It tied in my ideas of ‘joining together’ the materials.
The symbiosis of the natural world & human beings.
The use of typography on the leaves to pinpoint current events i.e. trace ~ COVID-19 Pandemic, environmental impacts, plastics in our Oceans, BLM, MeToo.
The use of imagery on the leaves i.e. corn ~ highlighting ongoing conversations around Brexit imports/exports, sustainability, environmental impacts, Climate change, Global food shortages
The use of specific materials e.g. bubble wrap ~ is an interpretation of cotton growing on bushes baring reference to BLM & both historical & modern day slavery
I was inspired in this Textiles workshop on Material play, exploring with recycled materials of which I utilised plastics from my recycling box at home during lockdown.
I am consciously trying to move to a zero use of plastics as my awareness has grown around the devastating impact it is having in our environment. I am mindful of how I can be more sustainable in my Art practice.
It was interesting to note how uncomfortable I was in choosing plastic as my medium. It was provocative material to use & I felt a heightened awareness because of it. My preference is usually natural materials that can return to the Earth with least impact, e.g. biodegradable papers & charcoal, natural fabrics, clay, wood etc. It was a thought~provoking process to work through & I was inspired to bring those ideas together to produce the end product of a union of both natural & manufactured worlds...
Flashbacks are traumatic and invasive. Sufferers often cannot distinguish between the flashback and reality making them equally distressing as the event of the trauma itself. This poem tries to describe the flashback experience
