He was a habit and a key component to my cycle. I seek out the familiar, relate to pain, strive to fix and paint lies a rosy hue. It's what I've always known, and the unknown is scarier. There is no hope. When you are broken you can't see the future including anything healthy or safe. So he got away with touching me as he did and I stayed. The only question I can't seem to answer is how I seemed to have fallen so deeply in love with such a cutthroat Narcissist. I'm sure every boy/man leading up to him, trickle down the breadcrumbs I definitely need to escape from this vast forest.
Women are poked, prodded, and molded the moment they take their first breath. We learn early on that "boys will be boys" and that we should shrink and fit into the boxes placed before us. How often did we hear "Awwwww! If he's picking on you that means he likes you"? Boys were essentially raised with a different outlook on cruelty. Entitlement sets in early on, and we see the repercussions as we walk through this dangerous world. Cat-calling is supposed to be a compliment. I was 11 years old the first time I was cat-called. A drink at the bar is payment towards attention and the desire to make our body theirs; all for $8. In the same breath men shit-talk sex workers. We can't escape the vortex of Toxic Masculinity. It swarms around us; harming our fellow womxn every day.... no, every second.
So we love men. We pretend that they will be different. We settle, make excuses every time we have to mother them, and take on the role of educator who gives them blow jobs. Every time we hear them gag on a toothbrush, resentment builds. Every time we have to walk around, or even more vile, step on a pile of their snot and spit; the resentment is back. Pounding against every fiber of our being. This is their world.
The Patriarchy is so deeply ingrained in all we see. On May 11th, 2022, I became a victim (one day survivor) of yet another violent crime. Since then, me and my friends have been running in circles trying to gain protection. The cops obviously did nothing. The Victim Advocate we were connected to through the lovely Salt Lake City Police Department did nothing. We keep hearing "It's just the system." If this were a drinking game we'd surely be drunk.
So I reached out to The Lauren McCluskey Foundation. If anything, I just needed our story to be heard by someone who cares, and they promise to listen and believe you when you are feeling threatened. I reached out to Get Gephardt from the local news station. I have yet to hear back, which is not surprising. I have found a Victim Advocate through the District Attorney. She actually seems to care, and even went so far as to say "he is scary" which is more validating than anything else we've heard from those working within our government.
I came back to Utah with the intention of healing from all of the abuse and violence I've formerly endured. I came to grow. I came to learn how to sit with myself and be content with what I was feeling. I was punched in the face by a man while protecting a child not even 10 minutes after we'd finished moving into our new apartment at The Kensington. He told us he'd get out, he'd come back and it would be worse. We discovered violent priors all the way back to 1994; harming women, ignoring a protective order, a gun charge, assault; that's just the tip of the iceberg. He started watching us, right across the street. We begged the police (ACAB) to do anything at all because we were desperate and had no where else to turn. We are pretty sure he was following us one night when we walked around the block; but no one cared. We begged for a protection order/stalker injunction during our journey through the court house, nobody seemed worried or bothered each and every time we had to repeat our trauma.
So we had to leave our apartment. We had to mourn the loss of yet another future stolen from us by a man and "the system". We are not living there but we are still paying rent because The Kensington refuses to release us from our lease even though they knew a violent criminal lived in the building. They knew he was beating his wife and step-kids. They just didn't care. The Kensington doesn't care even today.
So I am not healing from anything right now. I'd be lying if I said there weren't days I've almost relapsed. To be a womxn is to be an unwilling soldier in a world war we didn't start. So to the assholes that claim womxn who want to be equal should also be required to be drafted into their battles: We were born into your ravenous fray of rape, chaos, and death.
YOU instigate shit every day.
WE are expected to step aside and stay quiet.
I scream "NO".
“You will not fucking touch her.”
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