Just a few months before my 18th birthday, I was
attacked and sexually assaulted by four young men. Each one I knew well enough
but I had no idea. Revenge is a dish best served cold, I suppose. Whatever their
reasons, the act was violent and involved a relatively intimidating knife,
several dozen kicks to the head and a face disfigured by smashing and crushing
it into a brick wall. I needed stitches after grabbing the blade and discarding
it into the winter snow. There would be no emergency room. There would be
nothing but silence and withdrawal and wounds. People were surprised when I
refused to identify the assailants and seek justice. I just wanted the entire
thing to go away. I fell silent, not because I thought I had done something
wrong but rather, it was the shame, the embarrassment that drove me to say
nothing and do nothing. A few months after my 35th birthday, history
seemed intent on making a point. I don’t know why I didn’t realize something
was wrong when he wouldn’t take no for an answer. I let him buy me a drink just
to shut him the fuck up. He was standing way too close for comfort and he
seemed to know it. I woke up in my car in the middle of the night. It was
obvious I had been tampered with. I drove home although it was pretty clear
that I should not have. Whatever he slipped me turned me into a spin-doctor of
sorts. Round, round she goes. Sitting in my stupor, I just wanted to get back
to the safety of our home. I should have taken my partner with me, I should not
have gone alone. I found myself
surviving, yet again, all that shame and embarrassment. I just wanted to forget
the entire event. Both times, I washed it all away in the shower. Both times, I
went on with my life like nothing had happened at all. All these years later and
it seems obvious to me. They might as well not have occurred. There is nothing
like a good dose of denial.
We’re not
here for easy. Life is challenging, forever the struggle. Each of us faces our
own demons, our own experiences. Most times, it is our own actions that cause
most of our suffering. It is usually quite needless. Sometimes, it is the
actions of other people that bring chaos and instability to our lives. I have
never understood why mortal men strive to alienate each other so. They engage in
behaviour that assaults not only the body but also the senses. White men have
mostly gone unscathed by history, usually the perpetrator rather than the victim.
In particular, race and gender have always been subject to the whims of the men
in charge. In recent days, that power and unaccountability seems to be (thankfully)
dying with one last breath. The world is changing right before our very eyes.
For the first time in history, the voices of the weak and discouraged have
finally been heard. From racism, sexism and abuse come the songs of men and
women who have been oppressed throughout that history. Whether black or gay or
a woman, finally the times are changing. The Civil Rights movement in 1960s America ,
the Gay Rights movement of the last 40 years, stand beside them now. The fairer
sex is no longer confined to that definition. The Me Too crusade has evolved from a struggle to a social movement. All
the voices aren’t just voices anymore. Men of guilt are shaking in their shoes,
or should I say cod pieces. Their time is up.
I
understand the Me Too movement
because I have experienced the same shame and embarrassment women have suffered
throughout history. I understand the silence. I understand the pain. I cannot,
however, speak for women or on their behalf. I have a penis, and no amount of empathy,
no camaraderie can equal the experience of being a woman and what that
experience means. It is unique unto itself. I can try to understand but, as a
man, I am unable to do anything but relate, just as a woman could only relate
to my experiences as a man. We are not the same, no matter what they tell you. It’s
one thing to assault someone who can fight back. or at least has a fighting
chance. Now, women have that option. They may not be able to defeat your abuse,
but once the story has been told, and all the bruises laid, you can be damn
sure that your time is up. This is solely dependant on circumstance. There are
still victims of abuse and control who do not have the luxury of going to the
police. It is not so easy for some. Their hell starts daily. At least, to a
degree, they now have an option. People are listening and women have the right
to be heard. The things that men have done to their wives, their children,
their neighbours leaves one exacerbated. The things we continue to do is rather
astounding. The fight for equal pay, job safety and anti-harassment legislation
all seem reachable from this new vantage point. There is finally a hope that
someday we all may be equal. We may all get along. It’s no longer a pipe dream.
It’s
interesting to me that many of my male counterparts find the current movement
in women’s rights unsettling. They do not understand why the women who have
come out to claim abuse took so long to do so. They question the validity of
their statements. Other men believe that because they also experienced abuse
(sometimes identical) that they should be included in the Me Too campaign. I say, for God’s sake, let them have their moment.
Really, haven’t we taken enough? The mission is clear. This is about women
standing up against men, not men standing up against men. Get your own club buddy, and take your friends with ya. The dialogue
should be about women, not diluted by contrite attempts to remain a victim. It’s
been a sad few years. Watching man after man fall from grace, regardless of position
or riches, has been interesting to say the least. By their own actions they
have condemned themselves. I find it encouraging, the organization of women and
the rise of Me Too. I must admit, I am
surprised it took so long. I suppose that speaks volumes to the issue. It’s not
like we didn’t have Gloria Steinem and the rule of feminism through the last 50
years. Women have come a long way since the 1950s pinup ideals of a suburban
housewife. Perhaps, just perhaps, the Me
Too movement will do much more than evoke anger and retribution. Instead of
trying to fix the past, let us take this opportunity to evoke real change.
“I thought that it was more likely the opposite. I must have
shut grief out. Found it in books. Cried over fiction instead of the truth. The
truth was unconfined, unadorned. There was no poetic language to it, no yellow
butterflies, no epic floods. There wasn’t a town trapped underwater or
generations of men with the same name destined to make the same mistakes. The
truth was vast enough to drown in.” (We Are Okay, Nina
LaCour 2017)
On January 28th,
1983 and September 16th, 2000, my life changed. Both incidents drove
me to a state of being that I maintain to this day. This condition is no longer
forced or contrived, rather it has become a natural state, just the way things
are. Any other manner seems foreign to me now. The first violation introduced
me to the notion of emotional distance and the second reaffirmed it was the
only way to be. Had both assaults not occurred, I would not be the man I am
today. I have strength, strength enough to talk about it and resolve enough to
carry on with each day. Some people do not fare as well in the greater scheme
of things. My partner also found himself standing before the judgment of
selfish men. He does not hold his experiences as well as I do. They still haunt
him all these years later. He has recently started to talk about his
experiences in video form, which he posts on YouTube and Facebook. His
hope is to expunge his demons. He has chosen to finally stand up rather than
continuing to play the victim. He has even attempted to have dialogue with
women about this issue. He was sorely condemned. His experiences are irrelevant
in a literal sense. He is not a woman (I assure you) and they pointed that fact
out with no apologies. He was deeply offended and hurt that his voice didn’t
count. The fact that he is a man didn’t matter to him but to women, he just did
not belong. The sting of association left marks, I am afraid. His anger has
lasted up to this day. This does not negate the fact that he is a man and that his
experience is completely different because of that, even if the events are
similar.
When people
condemn women for taking 20 years to report a rape or sexual assault, I do not
comprehend their ignorance. It is easier to run away and hide than it is to
stand up and fight, particularly if you stand alone against the powers that be.
The shame and embarrassment is universal. The Me Too movement has given each woman, at least, the opportunity to
have a voice. Rise up to your power and cry out in the night. Finally, their
voices are being heard. For women, it has always been a constant battle with
little conquest. Times are changing. Women are changing. They don’t have to sit
back and take it anymore. The Me Too
movement has given them a platform to exercise the rights they should have been
granted all along. I understand their once apparent silence. I understand the permission
they have been given by this social movement. It has empowered them simply by
offering release. Men must now take the role of villain, a role which will only
change when men change. This is not your planet and you do not have the right
to treat other human beings any way you decide. It’s time for accountability
and it’s time for social justice. Women have the right to be heard without the
convoluted murmur of men who now claim to be the victim. Still, the Me Too movement has little to do with
men. We are the antithesis, simply through the whims of nature. No matter how
you try to be part of it, you can’t without a vagina.
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