December 22, 2010 § 8 Comments
This blog has been quiet for quite some time, for a reason. That reason is neglect from my side. I was just too bored, to focused on other things to bother.
And then. Something happened.
The swedish campaign #prataomdet started up, more or less spontainiously, and spread like wildfire. It was a reaction to the whole Assange business, the whole denying of rape. The whole treating sexcrimes as if they are uncommon and strange and only done by weird lonely men hiding in the park. The campaign isn’t about Assange and his possible doings, it is a reaction to what has been written about it and what Assange himself, plus Israel Sharim has done. They smeared the victims. Many lies have been bouncing around the internet, CIA-connection has been discussed, the womens feminism has been pointed out – because a feminist can’t be raped. Or something I don’t know.
What makes me want to #talkaboutit, is that many has used the possible victims irrational behavior as a reason for this to be untrue. And it shows just how little people know about rape.
First time somebody took liberties with my body that I didn’t give them, I was 15. I managed to fend him off, just before he tried to penetrate me. I was a firm believer of that I should be able to stop whenever I want, even if I’m naked. I still believe that, but now I know that it doesn’t help what I believe because if a person has more muscle power, he can pin you down.
I went home and showered for an hour. Then I pretended nothing happened.
Next one up was a guy I was in love with. He did a lot of horrible stuff when he was drunk, he used violence, he did things to me when I was asleep. He was strong. I tried to fight him off, one of the time there was people in the room. They thought my sounds was from pleasure. They weren’t. After a while I gave up, and faked just so it would be over.
Next time I was at a festival, two guys, they seemed nice. They offered me drugs. Then they stopped listening. I didn’t call the police afterwards, I was still high. But a friend did. The police arrested them but let them go. There wasn’t enough proof that they had understood I didn’t want to. It wasn’t enough saying no.
Next time again, it was a long term boyfriend. He wanted me and I didn’t want him. I said no. I said stop it. He didn’t. Afterwards he didn’t understand why I cried. When I a year later dumped him and said it out loud. You raped me. He said no, he didn’t do that, he would never. But he did.
These stories are no secrets. I’m not ashamed of this. It’s not my fault. And the last days something important has happened. Suddenly my friends and I had said “Yes, it has happened to me too”, and shared our stories openly, with eachother, not caring who hears.
A small glimmer of hope in me has started to shine. Maybe I’m not alone anymore, wanting to talk about this openly, maybe I’m not the only one ready to stop hushing when these stories are told.
Whatever the meta-discussion about this says, we need to show just how common this is. Just how badly we need to take our bodies back from a society that treats them like shit.
I’m proud. I survived. I came out stronger. And I hope that somehow, this will start something new.