Have you ever been about to go to sleep and something, a dream, a falling or whatever startles you awake and you jump?
Happened to me right before I decided to share a deep dark story on facebook. I have watched BBC documentaries for entertainment since I was a child and was doing so to fall asleep one innocuous night sometime ago, before #metoo. If you want to open your eyes a little bit, go to Netflix, check out the BBC show “Africa,” episode 1, skip to the 20:15 mark. That is where I was. Eyes hardly open, night time chirping. Cutest rhinoceros you ever did see drinking out of a lake under the twilight, we hear a famous British voice.
“Using the latest starlight camera, David Attenborough announces, “we can reveal for the first time, the rhino’s true charactah.” Larger view. “This young female seems nervous,” the British narrator describes the emotional state of a completely different species he can plainly see to the audience who can also plainly see. “The young female has an admirer,but she doesn’t seem keen on him.”
So then this rhino mofo comes back after getting some antlers stuck on his horn and that does it for her, she decides to give him a chance. Didn’t do it for me, I was never convinced, but it did it for this lady rhino, this guys extra effort. So she decides to give it a go. Don’t turn away, give it another minute. Yep, he disappoints. She’s over it, so she goes off and feigns sleep. Then what happens? He waits a little bit then takes her anyway because he is a legitimate randy beast and they are about to go extinct?
He just trots away. Like a gentleman. Or like most members of all species across many a genus.
All the proof I need. Thank you Black Rhinoceroses.
Do you know what the Buddha said when he reached enlightenment and the devil came and attempted to reduce him with questions like, “Who do you think you are?!”
He said nothing. He touched the earth. Why? Because all of creation, the earth itself would bear witness to his enlightenment. If it is the truth, what does he have to prove to the likes of Mara?
Right then and there, on the edge of sleep, a big part of me just died and I don’t think that is a bad thing. Might have just been the itchings of 30. My first grey hair. And I got on Facebook and told a story, which I had considered doing at other points in the process because I am a writer and that is what we do, we write when the going gets tough. But I never quite had the limbic pulsing to shut off the blood flow to my prefrontal cortex. That is to say, I had thought about it but never pulled the trigger.
It can be inappropriate. It can become an addictive way of life for some, but sometimes, sooooooooometiiiiiiiiiiiiimes
it can be just the motivation you need to act appropriately.
Sharing personal things to strangers is not a safe strategy for many.
But it happens to be for me in this situation at this time.
To the outside world it didn’t look like I had it. We have a lot of assumptions about women and anger. Clarity is not one of them.
So I got online, shared a story that shined a light on a really ugly scene that made people feel an array of pity, concern, anger and embarrassment. And all of our reactions gave me more clarity. Not a lot of queenly grace there, but I can’t regret it. I needed that information.
I had done all the right things. And still. Fed up.
Wanna know what happened when I took my black and white date rape report to the authorities? About how a man did to me what even a rhino wouldn’t dare do to one of his own? Hope for a minute. Doctors, police, detectives, listening even though I most definitely felt crazy. Validating me with statements like,” yeah, this is exactly what it looks like, we know, and don’t expect anything to happen once it gets to our prosecutor.” An arrest. Silence. Long silence.
Finally, I bug her because my police man ex told me that’s how it works if I want answers.
When I finally did get a hold of the Hawaii State prosecutor and she finally did agree to meet me with an “advocate” (who really served as an advocate for her) she started with a question.
“Abby, do you really think he needs to go to jail?”
Full stop. Crick in my back is tightening to a near pop as I lean a little to the right to try and ease it. The pain of her nonsense.
Not my job.
My job is care-taking, babies, old people, men.
I went to school for public and social health.
Didn’t our prosecutor have years and thousands of dollars worth of rigorous training that had qualified her to put in to practice all the 1 + 1’s of the law?
And besides, that wouldn’t have even been her job!!! What sort of beliefs about who I am made her feel comfortable putting that guilt on me?
I had believed and wanted it to be the people’s who’s job it was suppose to be, the judge and jury’s. Could you have imagined me up there, Judge Libtard?
“JAIL? You mean a place with no stars?!?!? Community service should do! And mandatory therapy! That should fix him right up! Smile, meet heart!”
There is a reason I was both victim and witness in this case and not the judge.
I had no balls for this. And I’ve never had any interest in going to school to be a judge. Justice is hard work and shouldn’t be left to the victims.
And that is why I me-tooed. I’m fed up and CLEAR AS DAY! Tired of loved ones getting raped on and good -hearted people being left to pick up the wreckage while sociopaths skip around looking pretty and causing chaos. Yes, all sexual assailants are sociopaths, as this rhino demonstrated for all of us, because one has to jump through several dehumanizing hoops in order to make the choice to steal a person’s sex. Even if that person is female. Or it’s some impulsivity problem. Why is the weight on me, a haole from a strange land, the actions of this man’s criminal violation of my body? Why didn’t the justice system take care of it? Black and White. About the easiest date rape scenario ever. Asleep. Hour and a half been asleep. Sober. Witnesses willing to testify on a consistent story. Freakin’ DIARY ENTRIES. What in the world? This is why #metoo had to happen. This is why sex stuff is now on social media. Because people in our system of Justice put politics before service. Its a joke. I was intimidated TWICE out of pursuing basic justice while my sexual perpetrator was emboldened to continue his narcissistic abuse.
How do we reach someone committed to a sociopathic path? There is only one way. Consistent social accountability. Justice, even gentle and kind, really goes a long way.
A narcissistic game always unravels in the light.
Now I understand more deeply my responsibility to strengthen my inner fortitude in order to continue to shine a light on narcissistic frameworks and take a stand for my own inner integrity.
Would be nice if our system could be trusted to do its job but I never saw any evidence of that.