oubliette

SHAMAN BONES

Her final magnificent dance in the twilight glitter. Acrylic on canvas. 

Crushing the Teen Dream

“Girls grow up, and sometimes we do it with a bang.”

[TW: discussion of rape, emotional abuse]

A while ago a friend tells me that her husband raped her. 

Those are the words she uses. “[Name] raped me. Can I tell you about it?”

Of course, I say yes, she can always talk to me about anything she needs to - and so she does, in some detail.

I ask what she wants to do, and she says they are working through it.

Fast forward a few weeks, and she asks me not to hate him, that he’s trying to understand. 

I laugh bitterly, and tell her that I hate him in much the same, nebulous way I have come to hate most men.

He hurt my friend. It’s her prerogative to try to forgive him, but I can’t. I have never known a single man who did not eventually hurt me or someone close to me. Not one. And I’m tired of giving men the benefit of the doubt, because it just makes the knife twist harder when the eventual betrayal comes.

Not every instance is as violent or tangible as rape, of course, but sooner or later every man I have ever known has done something deeply, deeply hurtful. 

Sometimes it’s a rant about his “stupid slut ex-girlfriend.” 

Sometimes it’s an offhand rape joke or comment about how “bitches are always lying, right?” in my (male dominated) workplace.

A relative of mine (whom I once loved and respected, and now struggle to continue even the former) emotionally abuses his ex-girlfriend over the phone and in person when he has been drinking.

Some of these instances are so small they seem trivial - and they might be, if I didn’t spend every single day braced for the next confirmation that my existence, my self-worth, even my sense of safety are unimportant to the men in my life because of my gender.

The night my friend came to me about her husband raping her, I cried. 

She told me that she came to me because, “I knew you would believe me.”

I cried because she didn’t think everyone in her life would take it seriously - and because I knew she was right. 

I cried because I’m afraid he’ll do it again, and because I still don’t know what to say to convince her to leave him before he gets the chance.

When she asked me not to hate him, I told her I would try: because I value our friendship, and I always want to be there for her - and I want to make sure that if she ever does leave, she knows she can always, always come to me.