A few days ago in one of my psychology classes, a professor, uncomfortable made a flippant remark regarding rape, "What you guys don't want to talk about rape?" Between his flippant attitude and his body language, I ended up running out of the class and crying hysterically. I came to the conclusion that I was upset because I hadn't really registered how deeply it affected me some of the reactions that I got to the situation by those I love, the police, and people I was associated with.
The man I have been seeing for almost three years now, didn't know how to handle it. He made remarks about how he knew the guy (I can't imagine that from his perspective!). He made mention of how he had known us both about the same amount of time and didn't want to get involved as though it were some kind of disagreement!
A young woman at work (my workplace was unfortunately involved) made a comment "How does something like that even happen?!" I walk away stating, "I hope you never have to find out."
I had people ask me if I had provoked it, had others ask me if I wanted them to shoot him, the detective even tried to get me to re-enact it. The law sent were only males as if that made any sense at all!
We had been drinking that night. My friend that was there didn't remember the details correctly and gave the police misinformation. I don't hold it against her but it may have kept him from being locked up because our stories didn't exactly match.
There was interaction between this man and I. I invited him into my home. He kissed me at one point and I pushed him back gently. I told him he had gotten the wrong idea and after that he behaved until the rape unfortunately.
Looking back, I wish of course that I had never let him into my home. I wish I had made him go after the kiss. I wish a lot of things. However, I have dealt with the rape itself as much as one can. What I did NOT realize is I had compartmentalized the reaction of those around me during the aftermath.
In class today, we were doing our end of semester presentations. One chapter deals with rape. The presentation after my group got a little deep with the details and the man covering the chapter that deals with rape also did an annotation about the subject. He mentioned how often times women are accused of provoking it and how most people don't even come forward. Again, in retrospect, I can see why so many are silent!
I began shaking and crying hysterically in class. Seated in one of the farthest points from the door, in the middle of someone else's presentation I was forced to remain, sharing the depths of my soul with my classmates.
So many women offered support in that moment, and I have to admit it was incredibly cathartic. I called Paulie after class and realized that I had shut off so much of myself in the last year and a half not even realizing the way I had hidden it from my view. It is a lot to carry around.
As I was walking toward the library to write this out of me, I noticed the sparkles in the concrete. I have always been mesmerized by them. I realized I had become like this. My skin was concrete. Concrete with sparkles.
On my thirtieth birthday, my grandmother, Diane, gave me a set of perfume and sparkle powder by Mariah Carey. I had always given Rachael a very hard time about the glitter she left in her wake. I began wearing it any time I took the stage. My grandmother had always supported my music and to me, it was like having her with me on stage.
Since she passed away, I now wear it every day. It is my way of always having her with me.
Paul is the reason I got the steel down my spine. He is the reason I have the strength I have today. And well my grandmother is my sparkle. Concrete with sparkles. Women of strength.
No comments:
Post a Comment