A Myth of a Misfit Rape Survivor

I have never really found my niche. It feels hard for me to fit in to whatever the mainstream deems as "normal", which I learned is a relative term after a stats class for psychology. As a young child, I was as content to play with my imaginary friend Kowalina as I was the kids in my preschool, plus I was a head taller than the other kids and about twice their overall size (I come from sturdy stock). As I grew older, I was never picked first for teams in PE, I never sat with the popular kids at the lunch table, my clothes were a little different because my taste was a little different. I became a chubby kid, and then around the 5th grade, puberty started prematurely (another thing to set me apart), and I slimmed into a curvaceous young woman. By junior high, I tried to fit in, but I didn't really. I played the games; I hated the girl who was out that month/day/week/hour, but I was curvy, they boys treated me differently, and I wore a jacket year round to cover my body, to hide. By high school, the grunge/alternative explosion had even hit my small East Texas area, and I didn't give a damn anymore. My goals were to get good grades in high school and be involved in as many extracurriculars as possible to look good on future college applications to get my butt out of town. I had long hair the first couple of years, which I occasionally flipped. I was criticized for flipping my hair. Early in my junior year, I had my hair cut in a pixie, which was popular everywhere except G-Town (my hometown). I was accused of lesbianism by alleged friends, non-friends, and even relatives. And, to top it all off, another girl had begun flipping her hair and she received nothing but praise for how cute and trendy she looked. The lesbian rumors were aided by the fact that I did not date in school. I did not have time to waste on boys. I had priorities and goals. I had to get out, find myself, find where I belong. That's okay; I had my orange plaid flannel babydoll dress with boots and a pixie, a promising future, and I was getting the hell out of G-Town!

I started college in a small town in Louisiana. Specifically, I started Louisiana's premier school for Liberal Arts housed within another university. My freshman class was full of other kids like me. We were all a little different,but in our own ways, and we were all intelligent. We quickly bonded and respected each other for our differences and our likenesses. I found a place where I belonged. I wasn't the smartest, I wasn't the dumbest. I wasn't the quirkiest, and I wasn't the most normal. I wasn't the token nerd or geek, and nobody thought it weird that I didn't immediately get a boyfriend or have short hair. I quickly befriended a trio of other girls, and I thought life was grand. We planned to live in a suite the second semester of our freshman year because we were all best friends. We were inseparable. One was a local girl, and she introduced us to a bunch of locals, too. So, I was meeting all these great people in college, plus all these really great local people, too. I was so happy with life.

Then it happened. One of these so-called really great locals raped me on the last night of my freshman year. I spent the summer crying. I hid it really well. I returned to my parents home for the summer and got a part-time job with an answering service. No one had a clue. Nobody suspected anything was wrong. I continued to travel back to my college town over the summer, mostly so I could self medicate on drink, which I knew I could get there. Five hours there and back just to get drunk, to self-medicate. I cried all the way there and all the way back. I was so mixed up, I heard HIS words reverberate through my head. HE told me HE cared about me, that HE thought we could have something special, how much HE cared for me. I told HIM the whole time I knew HIM that I was only interested in being friends. HE reminded me of my friends older brother who had been killed in an automobile accident when I was in high school, so I thought of HIM as a replacement for my friend's dead brother, who was genuinely a nice man from a nice family. I was confused because I didn't know what happened. I did not understand what happened.

In August, my sophomore year started. I am ashamed to say I do not remember much about it. I drank myself through my sophomore year of college. I also alienated myself from most of my college friends. The trio of friends I had made, the self-proclaimed BFF's, had backfired and we had been at each others' throats, so we didn't all get along that well. It did not matter much because I was up late drinking most nights, going to bars, sneaking vodka into my dorm room and drinking it straight, hiding in my dorm room. I remember my friend moved out of the dorm; she and I had maintained (and still do) a close friendship throughout the fighting. I was supposed to move in with another girl down the hall. We went to the administration and filed the appropriate paperwork, but I didn't move. I stayed right in my room all by myself. I preferred the solitude. I slept when I wanted, which was a lot. I scheduled all my classes for 11:00 AM or later, and I missed most of my morning classes anyway. I began gaining weight because I ate and then closed myself up in my room unless I was out at the bar. I even found a bartender who would serve me even though I was under age. I was losing my grip with reality. I was also losing those friendships I made my first year of college. There was a holiday weekend, where we were all supposed to vacate the dorms. I stayed silently and just laid in bed. I went out one time to go get food. I'd been eating junk food I had in my dorm room and soft drinks. I found a bunch of other kids in the dorm, just down the hall. They invited me to hang out. I lied; I told them I would be back to hang out when I got back from getting food. I never went back. I isolated from the one group where I had finally found a sense of belonging because I had been raped.

I was at my most desperate when I began dating my husband. I was ready to give up on my education and return to G-Town and my parents' house defeated, beaten down by the atrocity of rape. He was also going through a rough time in his life. I stayed because I wanted to see where our relationship would go. I began getting more involved in having a social life, but it was full of drama because this social life involved quite a few of these locals who enjoyed the drama. After we decided to get married, I spent most of my weekends returning to my parents' house to plan the wedding. I missed a lot of weekends. One weekend, an alleged friend raped a high school girl visiting her college friend at an after-party at a friend's house. My now husband was a witness. The local group quickly split into two factions: one, the "oh, so-and-so couldn't possibly do that" faction, and two, the "that asshole raped a little girl" faction. The circumstances were similar to my rape; she was drunk and passed out, he took what he wanted. That was the point I finally understood I had been raped. I had a name for what happened. I could name it, say it, but I still felt dirty and ashamed. I finally told a couple of close friends and my husband (before we married). We don't have much to do with the first faction...

So now, I've come to terms with being a square peg and a rape survivor. I know I don't fit in. Additionally, I have a secret I keep from most people. I don't wear a t-shirt announcing "HEY! I WAS RAPED!" I tell people I feel comfortable telling, and the rest don't need to know. It's almost like I have my natural tendency to not fit in with the norm plus an additional reason not to fit in, if that makes sense. I can remember sitting in groups of 4 women, praying let the 1 in 4 be me, not even aware of the conversation. I still do it occasionally, send up a prayer, let me be the token rape survivor in this group... I survived. There isn't much I can do about being a misfit, except find people who love me for my quirky sense of humor, my wit, my sarcasm, my sense of style, my morals and ethics... I have clear lines drawn where women's rights and safety are concerned, and I don't play with that. There is no room for play when it comes to women's rights and safety issues are concerned. One more rape is one too many. One battered woman is one too many. Sometimes, in retrospect, I feel ashamed that I allowed the rape trauma to isolate myself from an ideal situation for someone like me. Now that I'm in a work environment that I rather enjoy, I am so far removed from the normal that I'm an outlier, to go back to my stats terms. I cannot go into further detail, but I am definitely an outlier! However, I have learned, after long struggles with self-esteem, rape trauma, a verbally, emotionally abusive alcoholic father, to love myself, including what sets me apart, what makes me different, what makes me stand out from the crowd. If  you have any reason to feel different, whether it is your natural personality, or if you have experienced trauma, learn to love what sets you apart from the crowd too.

Medusa's Mad Musings: Feminism and the Future

I had a recent conversation with an almost-adult girl. We were discussing the Golden Age of American Cinema, and I was listing off some of my favorite actresses: Katharine Hepburn, Audrey Hepburn, Marilyn, Deborah Kerr, Maureen O'Hara... I was trying to help her identify Katharine Hepburn, and I commented that she was gifted with talent and a feminist. The girl said, "Oh, I hate feminists." I told her she must hate me, too. "Oh, well, everyone should be equal. I just don't like the man-haters."

At first I was taken aback by seemingly blatant disrespect for all the female pioneers who have fought and struggled so hard, sacrificed so much, and given of themselves so much by this girl. Then I realized: Maybe she doesn't need to identify with feminism because she hasn't personally experienced sexism. Huh...

I see sexism everywhere. Is it a result of experiencing sexism from childhood? My mom, who never really allied with "feminism" properly, raised me to be independent, rely on myself, and not feel the need to be dependent on a man. She was trapped in a marriage to my father, so I clearly understand why she raised me like that. I had an informal feminist ethic from my mother. Then, around the 8th grade, when my breasts had grown and my hips began their spread, I experienced significant sexual harassment. A kid repeatedly made inappropriate comments, culminating in grab-ass, at which point I decided enough was enough. I reported it to the principal of my junior high. It was bad enough that the kid was harassing me, but I did not expect to be told that there was nothing that could be done but to change my locker (the location of the harassment) since it is a he said/she said situation. Funny, the principal, spineless pig he was, never even talked to the boy. With a new locker, I learned a valuable lesson about how to deal with misogyny and stand up for myself... Be mean as hell but silent because no one will listen!
So, I'm talking to this girl who says she "hates man-haters" and we should all be equal. Equality; the first sentence of our Declaration of Independence says "All men are created equal", but we know the founding-fathers, despite their individual views (and I am not getting into a political discussion about the founding of our nation), pragmatically meant that all middle- to upper-class, White, preferably European, males were given these unalienable rights. We had to fix some things, but we're doing better now. Doesn't she realize the massive inequality out there? The fraction a female worker earns in comparison to her male counterpart, the hatred of women, the sexual violence and objectification that permeates our world? No, she seems not to understand.

Is it good or bad? It bothers me in the thought that kids her age and younger will be continually apathetic towards women's rights and the achievements of the suffragists, the proponents of the ERA, the warriors against violence, etc. I have read a lot of feminist texts, which are in my personal library, ranging from Mary Wollstonecraft to Eve Ensler. I still listen to Riot Grrrl music. I have a blog dedicated to fighting sexual violence caused by sexism. I have created a persona to fight sexual assault! I cannot deny I am feminist; I have embraced feminism, identify with the need to be feminist and the security the label "feminism" provides. On the other hand, it gives me hope that this girl's flippant dismissal of feminism is a reflection that all the feminists who have fought and sacrificed, that their work is paying off, and I'm alive to witness that girls are not being objectified, treated poorly, or being exposed to the nastier side of misogyny.

Then I read the crime statistics in the paper; I see that rape is still prevalent. I see that men treat women like objects. I see people like Hugh Hefner (a dirty pornographer, in my opinion), Chris Brown (known for physically assaulting ex-girlfriend Rihanna), and Kobe Bryant (do I need to explain?) are celebrated in the media. I see the problems in TV and movies, on the radio, online, on billboards, in magazines, and even in person on occasion.

"Feminism is the radical notion that women are people too" (a statement I think was made by Judy Tenutta, although I read it so long ago that I am probably wrong). I'm not a crazy, man-hating, leftist feminist stereotype. I'm a survivor of rape and other sexual assault (and a stalking and more sexual harassment than any individual should ever endure), married to a man, a daughter, sister, granddaughter, daughter-in-law, sister-in-law, cousin, niece, and aunt to males who are good people and I care deeply for, with political beliefs that less government is better, who just happens to think that women still have a long way to go before we can declare true equality. I agree with her in that we should all be equal. My hope is that feminism is not dying. I hope we can achieve equality, including and especially gender equality, as feminism and gender studies are not strictly  female issues. Who will assert her or himself to achieve that goal?

Medusa and Optimism: An Oxymoron?

I haven't posted in a few weeks. I've been sick. I ran out of anxiety medicine and pain medicine at the same time, which can make life very difficult for a neurotic grrl with chronic pain disorders! I was asked by my dear friend, H, to post something positive for a change. She said I was always negative, which surprised me! I thought I was sharing valuable information for other survivors. Then again, talking about my history of rape, other sexual assault and harassment, and abuse are not very positive topics, are they? H, this is dedicated to you:-)

I have wonderful parts of my life, as do most every person, whether a survivor or not. I have a fantastic husband. Let me just say, I never planned on marriage. I did not believe in such a thing. After all, I never had positive marriage models in my life. Then, I met this guy who was just cool. He was fun to hang out with, good conversation, but married. Well, the marriage ended. We were friends. Our
relationship just kind of developed following the dissolve of his marriage to his first wife. With our relationship came hope. We found each other at dark times in each of our lives. He was dealing with his daughters moving away, and I was dealing with a rape I could not comprehend. As a bonus, I got the most amazing step-daughters a person could ask for! They are beautiful, sweet, clever, smart, funny, and just good girls. I love them like they're my own children, even if I did not technically give birth to them. I am proud of what they do, the young women they are growing to become, and the wonderfulness of having them in my lives. Along with getting a husband, amazing step-daughters, I got a family. My in-laws are wonderful people who have welcomed me fully into their lives and family. I realize that even though I have difficulty getting along with anyone in my father's immediate family, God has given me a wonderful family by marriage. I have a
fabulous family on my mom's side, too. We aren't necessarily an emotional group, but we know how we feel, and we stand by each other through the rough times and the good times. I'm a lucky grrl! I cannot imagine what life would have been like without my mom and brother. My mom has been a pillar of stength my whole life. She has also developed a fun attitude in the past few years. We may not have always gotten along so well, but my mom is so important in my life and integral to the woman I have become. My younger brother is the only person who shared my entire childhood. Together, we have survived a childhood of life with a raging alcoholic. We suffered together, but we also lauged together and survived together. He is a newlywed, and I am delighted to have a new sister to share my brother's life.

I also have some pretty amazing friends that I've accumulated over the years. My oldest friend is K; although we are separated by many miles, we are as close as sisters. We talk about
everything, have shared the best and the worst, and have forged a bond stronger than a lot of people will ever know. I'm so glad she is in my life. I've known H almost as long, and H and K are cousins. They've included me in feeling like a part of the family. K and H are both beautiful, funny, sweet, and positive people. They're a good influence in my life, and I am grateful! I have been blessed to have additional friends come into my life, through friends of friends, work, school, or similar interests. I have discovered a bounty of amazing people through Facebook, other survivors, dealing with their own battles, healing in their own ways. We've forged a bond of hope, self-discovery, sharing, and healing. There is also a community of retreatants who have become part of my life through ACTS. I am beyond blessed to know each of these people, and I hope everyone I consider a friend knows how much I care about them.The end of 2010, beginning of 2011 brought a
transition to my life. I had been working part-time retail for about two years. I decided to leave this job at the end of 2010, taking a leap of faith. It has worked out quite well. I was nervous about this change, and my husband was near hysteria about my potential unemployment. Through a new friend, I found a full-time job that I like, as well as a part-time job so I can continue to indulge my interest in clothing retail. I said 2011 will be the year of Medusa, and so far, it's working out for me. I've learned that people enter our lives for different reasons and at different times. Some remain, and some may go. Their presence in your life at any given time does not lessen the significance that the person has had in my life. I've always liked the the lyric from Alice in Chains "You my friend, I will defend, and if we change, well I'll love you anyway" from the song No Excuses.

Yes, I've been hurt by many people. At the same time, I've discovered that
people bring goodness into my life. How do we distinguish the good people from the potentially hurtful ones? It is simply life, the experience, the jouney, the personal growth, development, and course we all take just by being alive and being social creatures. Yes, the pain has taken a toll on me mentally, emotionally, and physically, but when I stop, take H's advice, and consider the good, the good far outweighs the bad. I have found love, friendship, healing, growth, and even some happy through relationships I've had with various people. Thank you for touching my life in a positive way. Even just by reading my words, you have an insight into who and what I am. Thank you, H, for making me consider my positives.