Today marks my final post "On Abuse". I'm not sure why I want to stop my writings, thoughts, and opinions on abuse and rape culture and on my own personal experiences with power dominance/control/abusive histories and/or relationships; but it's perhaps because I have seen through the eyes of those who supported the rapists in the heat of the public outpouring, and through the eyes of a once upon a time friend, who is now revealed as a rapist.
I'm deeply against sex offenders, and offenses against anyone that include violence and using sex as a weapon or form of violence; however, I do think that people learn, and get better, or improve themselves, their lives, and their lifestyles over time. I'm hopeful that those who have caused harm to others via rape and/or physical/mental/verbal abuse are able to see the error in their ways. I, too, have been sexual assaulted, maybe even a couple of times in my life. I, too, fell into the trap of blaming myself and the woulda coulda shouldas; but also needed liberation from the past, the past that was filled with pain, verbal assault, and relationship confusion.
I do now and currently cherish and honor those relationships that do not remind me of these past dysfunctions that I encountered and endured. I do honor and cherish the future, my own future, and my future children's future. I am happy that I have been able to identify the abuse that I have encountered, endured, and suffered through, as well as the abuse of some of my close, close friends. I feel, in some ways, that I been liberated by a community, that I, too, have silently healed through this outing of abusers; but I feel hesitant. Still. I feel hesitant. Only because I know they, too, are feeling a form of abuse on their end now. It all feels a bit strange. Perhaps it's karma, in a way. But, knowing that someone I once considered a friend is now suffering, and going through inner confusion for being set outside of a community, I feel pain for them. I am saddened. Yes, I feel sad.
However, I don't think that it should all be forgotten, that it was all for naught. It was a powerful, important, and extremely necessary movement. A cleansing of a literary scene, the prevention of power abuse and dominance in a culture, and the rising of cream to the top of a community that led it to a higher, better ground. Yes. It was getting incestuous, literally. People were starting to get hurt. The lines were crossing, no longer just blurred. So, do I feel that it was right to happen? Yes. Definitely. But, I still feel sad.
I read responses, interviews, and even read a few Facebook posts of the abusers during the aftermath. It's not pretty. I can tell there is somewhat of a depression and shock after the wake.
It's disorienting, alienating, and can deeply shake one's faith in humanity. I've been there, in some ways, but in some ways, I haven't. I haven't at all. I haven't been through an entire community shunning me, sending me hate letters, and turning the other way when I walk on the street.
Though I have been through turmoil with people in my past, I've been lucky to make amends. I have been the one to make grave mistakes, too. Like a boxing match, one hit, then another by the opponent, we have both left the ring a bloody mess. But somewhat healed, somewhat lifted. Satisfied? Or just tired.
I feel guilty. I have distanced myself from those who I feel should be muted, in a way. I admit. It's a type of revenge, or is it? I don't know yet. But I do know, once a friend, always a friend. In a time of need, or even desperation, I would not close my door, not just yet.
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