Re-model 4 Life

An Open Letter to SCCC President Paul Killpatrick on Sexual Assault as the “Last Straw”

2011-11-27T16:59:00.003-06:00

An Open Letter to SCCC President Paul Killpatrick on Sexual Assault as the “Last Straw”

Seattle Central Community College
Office of the President
Paul Killpatrick, PhD
1701 Broadway
Seattle, WA 98122

November 27, 2011

Dear Mr. Killpatrick,

I appreciate that SCCC may be less-than-willing hosts to the current Occupy Seattle encampment. However, I am truly saddened that you identified an attempted sexual assault as “the last straw” to evict Occupy Seattle.

SCCC and the Occupy Movement exist in the context of our broader culture and society where sexual assault is a significant social problem. Citing the attempted assault as a reason to evict the Occupy Seattle encampment takes appalling advantage of someone who has been the victim of a crime.

Using the attempted sexual assault to discredit a peaceful political movement is a reprehensible manipulation of a terrible situation. As a neighbor to SCCC, I am deeply surprised that no one in your institution--students, faculty or support staff--has yet publicly stated their opposition to your remarks.

I see from SCCC campus crime statistics that no sexual assaults have been reported in the last three years. As a former Women’s Center program director at a small college in Oregon, I can assure you that a lack of reports does not mean a lack of incidents. Rather, a lack of reports indicates an institutional climate where persons experiencing sexual assault do not feel safe enough to come forward for support.

Please do not politicize a personal tragedy for the political gain of your institution. There are other ways to work with the people at the Occupy Seattle encampment.

In solidarity with survivors,

Robin DeBates, MSW, LSWAIC
Volunteer with Occupy Seattle Medical Work Group

------------------

Robin works as a therapist providing crisis assessment and intervention services for youth in King County, and for all ages in Snohomish County. She has worked with individuals and families in crisis since 1999 in settings ranging from special needs summer camp to a domestic violence shelter, youth residential treatment and hospital-based emergency medicine. Her website is available here: http://growing-hope.com

This entry also posted here: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3842/79/

Get Ready, Get Involved or Get Out of the Way

2011-11-27T02:05:00.000-06:00

Jacob Taylor of Toy Soldiers on "Oh Dear... ":

Hugo Schwyzer does not like my Good Men Project article. According to his twitter feed, my article is “Most dishonest thing I’ve see at @goodmenproject: ‘Women Rape Boys Too’ … Conflates rape stats with other abuse stats.”
I am not sure how I conflated rape statistics with other abuse statistics given that all the examples were specifically about sexual abuse. The editors on GMP did not include the links to the studies and articles, but I did include them in my version of the post. Anyone who reads them would see that I am not confusing physical or emotional abuse with sexual abuse.
It is rather egregious to accuse me of deliberately misrepresenting statistics without citing a single example of me doing so. Obviously Schwyzer could not do that on twitter, but he did not cite anything in his response on GMP either. It takes little effort to accuse someone of lying, but I think a person should invest some time in proving that claim if they going to go on a twitter rant over it.

Schwyzer and his dittoheads, while not going away, are in for a rude awakening. Male survivors of sexual violence are not going to sit idly by while people who aren't stakeholderrs in our healing peddle misinformation and half-truths intended to minimize, re-wound and silence actual, living, breathing sexual violence survivors for the sake of their academic or political arguments. We are done sitting in the corner and in the dark, with our heads hung low.

He just might as well get some better earplugs. While only recently have we begun to find our voice, some of us can be pretty damned loud.

There is a storm brewing in the male survivor community and things ARE going to change. You can help or you can ignore us, but you can no longer expect to brazenly hinder us without consequence. Those days are officially over.

Get ready.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3841/79/

Getting Involved in Sexual Violence Work While Male

2011-11-15T12:00:00.000-06:00

Originally published at No, Seriously, What About Teh Menz?

If you’ve been around the blogosphere for longer than five minutes, you may have noticed recurring discussions on sexual violence and feminist related blogs related to the need for men need to step up and take a bigger role in prevention and recovery. I’m not going to dispute that. Men do need to assume a higher profile, but as equal and respected partners, rather than out of guilt or as some form of penance for the actions of other men. That said,some people may not like the form that such involvement can take.

Putting Away the Keyboard

More often than not, the role that men are expected to assume by such bloggers, particularly by those who are not directly involved in real world advocacy themselves, is that of background support for the work of women already in the field. There is a philosophy, promoted by some, that men involved in sexual violence work should never seek leadership roles or question the present orthodoxy in any way. For some men, that may be a good fit. However, there are far greater opportunities available to men interested in making a real difference in sexual violence prevention or survivor advocacy programs.

Typically, men involved in sexual violence work are expected to engage ONLY in the following ways:

Attend Men Can Stop Rape events and programs.
Raise funds for crisis centers and prevention programs.
Participate in protests and walks such as Slutwalks, Take Back The Night events, or locally inspired actions.
Join campus organizations as an ally.

Making a Difference

There is nothing wrong with any of these approaches to involvement. If that is how you choose to make an impact, then I encourage you to make the most out of it. That said, there are many other under-utilized opportunities for men to get involved in sexual violence work. Some examples are below:

Volunteer and train as a crisis line counselor. – Contrary to opinion among some in the blogosphere who do not engage in real world advocacy, not all female survivors want to talk to another woman. Some female survivors are impartial with regard to the gender of the person on the other end of the phone. Others still, prefer a male voice on the phone. Additionally, some male survivors may prefer to talk to another man.
Join an advocacy organization that is involved locally. – Attend meetings, sign up for committees and participate in campaigns and events. Make your presence known through your actions and attitude. Don’t be afraid to make suggestions or question the status quo if you believe there is a better or more efficient way to accomplish a particular goal. Remember that an idea’s validity is not determined based on the genitalia of its proponent. The people who believe such nonsense tend not to be involved in the real world grunt work.
Participate in a survivor speaker’s bureau. – If you are a survivor and at a place in your healing where you feel comfortable sharing, this can be a very healing and high impact form of involvement. Please remember that most survivors will NEVER feel comfortable with public disclosure. It is not a reflection on your healing or courage if you choose to not get involved with public speaking. For those of you who do get involved, you will be surprised at how many organizations are eager to hear from male survivors. The overwhelmingly vast majority of survivor speakers tend to be white females and event planners are looking to diversify their discussion topics. The impact of your presentation may be the very thing a survivor suffering in silence needs to feel validated and worthy of healing. Your words can help change someone’s life and further heal your own wounds.
Speak out online and offline when you feel the need. – There are so many ways to change opinions and make an impact that don’t require the access and approval of specific organizations. Campaigns to rid Facebook of troubling groups that make light of sexual violence; correcting rape myths in everyday life as you confront them; and getting involved in legislative and legal campaigns when possible are additional options.

Potential Obstacles and Challenges

As a man involved in sexual violence work, you can expect to confront some very uncomfortable situations. For instance, you may be put into the “perp” box from time to time. This can come in the form of fellow advocates who promote generalizations based on gender. Also, you may experience the same while in contact with female survivors of male rapists.

The latter will be the hardest to overcome as you are dealing with a person who has had their trust violated in an extreme and traumatic manner. The former may come via people who are confusing advocacy work with ideological agendas. While this is far more common online with people who do not commit to real world advocacy, it can still occur offline in more limited supply.

When in contact with female survivors struggling with severe trust issues, you will need to work hard to gain trust and this will take patience. It is not your job to “fix” anyone. You are support to those who want your support. Your actions, more than anything, will communicate loudest to such female survivors. For some, you will never be trustworthy. You cannot control this and should not be made to feel guilty for the actions of those who hurt them. It is not possible to truly make a difference if you are attempting to atone for the actions of others. It is not a burden you can bear and no good will come of it for the survivor in the end. All you can do in such a situation is to put forth your best work and stay focused on the organization or campaign’s goals.

Advocates, however, have no excuse for treating male volunteers like pariahs or subjecting them to abuse or discrimination. Such treatment should be challenged as it is not appropriate in what is expected to be a healing environment. Bigotry and hatred have no place in sexual violence related efforts. If such advocates are willing to treat men who have volunteered their precious time and money in such a manner, they surely cannot be trusted around vulnerable male survivors or even female survivors who have been hurt by other women.

Keeping It Real

It is important to remember when dealing with any trauma survivor, that the healing process is theirs to own. It is entirely their decision as to how they heal and who they allow to assist them on that journey. No survivor should be made to feel pressured or emotionally manipulated to accept anyone’s help regardless of how sincere it may be offered if said help is not something the survivor is comfortable accepting. Everyone heals at their own pace and on their own terms. That should be respected without question or debate. Sexual violence survivors often create multiple layers of emotional barriers to protect themselves from harm. It is entirely the survivor’s decision who they allow to breach those walls. Please remember to respect that while serving the greater needs of the survivor community.

Far too often, advocates and volunteers completely lose sight of the real reason they are doing the work – the needs of the individual survivor and potential future victims. So long as you always bear in mind both the why AND who, you will be prepared to make a real and lasting impact.

Whatever your reasons for getting involved, please remember to take care of yourself as well. Working with survivors or on related campaign issues can be exhausting and emotionally stressful, even if you are not a survivor yourself. Practicing good self-care will ensure you are able to participate to the best of your ability and keep your mind and body in tune with your goals as a volunteer.

Why I Do It

In 2008, I finally decided to acknowledge what happened to me so many years ago as rape. I was drugged, raped and then blackmailed into silence by a female friend of a friend. As I’ve been involved in civil liberties work for years, it was a natural progression for me to add sexual violence work to my agenda. I had already acquired a thick skin from years of publishing The Multiracial Activist and The Abolitionist Examiner magazines online as well as participating in multiple civil liberties coalitions and efforts to include a U.S. Supreme Court case.

Since then, I have blogged about my own experience and related topics frequently on multiple websites. I’ve been interviewed online, via podcast and for print publication. As an active member of the speakers bureau for RAINN and speaker/trainer for the Survivors Caucus of the Virginia Sexual and Domestic Violence Action Alliance I’ve visited college campuses, youth groups and churches to discuss rape myths, survivor needs and participate in panel discussions on sexual and domestic violence. My own story has been adapted for use by the Empowerment Theatre on stage. In addition, I was interviewed for a video segment that is shown during Precious Porter’s awesome one-woman performance of “No More Drama: Love Should Not Hurt”, which was recently performed/screened for a group of over 3,000 attendees in Atlanta, Georgia. Online, I am moderator for theFacebook group associated with the healing handbook Resurrection After Rape. In addition, I serve as a Section Moderator at Pandora’s Aquarium, one of the largest online mixed gender rape survivor communities. Offline, I have served as a secondary survivor for several female and male survivors who have done the same for me.

However you choose to make an impact is your decision. Just remember to keep your goals in mind and take care of yourself mentally and physically. This is important, but emotionally painful work. I salute each and every one of you who decide to take on such a burden.

___________________________

James Landrith is a rape survivor, public speaker, internationally syndicated blogger, civil liberties activist and the notorious editor and publisher of The Multiracial Activist (ISSN: 1552-3446) and The Abolitionist Examiner (ISSN: 1552-2881). Landrith can be reached by email at: james@jameslandrith.com or at his personal website/blog.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3839/79/

Again, With The Male vs. Female Survivors Thing...Ugh

2011-09-23T17:12:00.000-05:00

saiseix on Slut Walks, victim blaming:

I have been reading several articles on victim blaming, as per the up-coming local Slut Walk, and am extremely disappointed at the staggering amounts of victim blaming and rape apologizing in the comment sections.

Over and over again I read statements such as “I think a woman should be able to wear whatever she wants… but she still has to use common sense!” and “Don’t get drunk and put yourself in dangerous situations!” While these may seem well meaning, they both imply victim blaming, as we are all taught in society. We are told over and over again what a woman should wear, how she should behave in order to prevent being attacked. How about we spend even an equal amout of time and energy teaching somthting that REALLY should be common sense – DON’T ATTACK SOMEONE.

I abhor victim-blaming in all forms. Blame shifting, excuse making, denial, mockery and minimization are all disgusting practices that are thrown in the faces of rape survivors. Good job on sounding off. The Slutwalks have started a very important conversation that needs to continue and expand in multiple directions.

However, I have to quibble with regard to the comments about male rape survivors.

You said, "I want to know how many people would say a man was asking to be attacked because of the way he looked." That is an interesting, if offensive question, from the perspective an actual male rape survivor. The way a man looks is VERY MUCH a tool of rape denial and minimization used by both men AND women when they meet a male rape survivor. While a man's attire is less likely to be analyzed, his physical fitness, size, aggressive/submissive presence, perceived sexual orientation and masculinity are all weapons to be wielded in their rape denial and mockery.

It happens. It is no less ugly than that which happens to women. That is, of course, when we aren't turned into a punchline again and again and again. Perhaps you didn't know that?

You said, "I wonder how many male rape victims are told they were “asking for it”." A LOT of us are told that. I was drugged, raped and then blackmailed into silence by a female friend of a friend.

I was alone with a woman I didn't know well. I was asking for it.

I didn't say no to the drinks she bought me. I was asking for it.

I didn't fight back with physical violence after the drugs wore off and the blackmail and threats and screaming at me began. I was asking for it.

I had an erection. I was asking for it.

I didn't report it to the police. I was asking for it.

I support the Slutwalks that have been taking place worldwide and I speak out regularly as a survivor and trainer. What I cannot support are minimizations based on the gender of a survivor. It seems to me that you have absolutely no idea what male rape survivors deal with on a regular basis. Let me clue you in - it does not differ as much as you may think. We get mocked. We get treated to rape denial, victim blaming, shaming and all manner of disgusting minimizations. Sound familiar?

Rather than alienating male rape survivors by making it seem like we have it easy compared to women (the vast majority of whom, like men, have NOT been raped), you should re-examine this topic and view us as the allies we have been for many years to our sister survivors - even while being told that we don't deserve access to PUBLICLY funded crisis centres that we help to keep afloat with our own tax money.

We can be strong allies or we can be minimized and alienated. Again. It is time for those who truly care to make a choice.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3825/79/

There is Always One

2011-07-21T18:01:00.000-05:00

On Friday 7/15, I was one of five rape survivors (from RAINN) who presented at a church in SE, Washington, DC. I was heartened and impressed by the desire of the church leadership and event organizer to provide their members with access to content and speakers on this important topic. This was the first time I was not the only male survivor, which was a welcome change.

The attendees were happy for all who participated, but one of the more senior female members told me that she was “overjoyed to see men speaking out.” She said that “women always show up, but we need to hear from the men too.” I’ve found that even when internet gender warriors don’t get it or scoff at male survivors for expecting a seat at the anti-sexual violence table (while doing so on The Most Important of Blogs – TM), the people who actually show up at awareness events often have entirely different ideas. I was grateful for her comments and reminded once again that people are listening, even if some of the self-appointed gatekeepers are completely clueless – or worse, complicit in the silencing of male rape survivors.

At each speaking engagement there is usually one person that will stand out for me and be remembered long after I’ve forgotten most of the event. That night, a woman spoke to me about her husband and how she long suspected something in his background but that he would not discuss it. She described how the pieces fell in line for her as she listened to me discuss my own experience. She got it. When he is ready to talk, she'll be ready to listen and support him.

She was the reason I was there. She was the person I was supposed to reach that night. There is always one…

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3818/79/

On Double Standards (or Oh No She Didn't!)

2011-07-03T17:59:00.001-05:00

Emily Nelson on Oh, a Woman Did Something Bad? Must Not Count:

Women get a double standard generally. There is this absurd notion that women are somehow less violent than men and if women were to rule the world, we would experience international peace. Yeah right. Which is totally why no women ever commit murder or other violent crimes. Or rape (yes, women do commit rape). Or murder their children. Or are abusive to their spouses. I mean, clearly, it just doesn’t happen, yeah?

As a male survivor of a female rapist, I have been served giant scoops of this garbage over the years.

While the victim-blaming and shaming are bad for any rape survivor regardless of gender, when a woman is the perp people will perform unparalleled styles of mental gymnastics to excuse, downplay or outright deny responsibility on the woman’s part. I was told (more than once) to “try to think about what she must have endured in order to have committed such a crime” against me.

She drugged, raped and blackmailed me into silence but she is the victim and I am expected to be understanding and sympathetic.

Some days, I really hate people.

Relevant Links:

http://theundiscoveredcountry.wordpress.com/2011/07/03/oh-a-woman-did-something-bad-must-not-count/

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3810/79/

Verbal and Physical Violence and the Aftermath

2011-03-18T17:57:00.001-05:00

The Sexual Assault Centre of Edmonton on "Violent Games":

...there are a lot of behaviors, attitudes and ways in which people interact with each other that are harmful, painful, derogatory and violent, such as name calling, hitting, discrimination based on race, sexual harassment, etc., that we minimize with phrases like, “Oh, I was just having a little fun,” “It’s no big deal,” “It’s just a joke,” “I’m only racist when I drink,” “Why do you have to be such a prude?” Those phrases are used to both minimize the harmful and negative consequences of words and/or behaviors as well as cut down the voice of anyone who chooses to speak out in resistance to their minimizing tactics. If I say pinching people on St. Patrick’s Day is a way to normalize violence as a game, and someone calls me a prude, that is their effort to make what I’ve just said less legitimate.
There are a lot of words we can call people to de-legitimate what they have to say and what they choose to do. Some include: prude, stupid, lame, idiot, snitch, frigid, bitch, gay, faggot, freak. They represent one of the ways language has so much power to distort and create the meaning we make of our lives by de-legitimating the voice and perspectives of certain people.
And they have central roles in how groups of people can justify violence.

I was picked on and bullied a great deal growing up. Individual incidents ranged from simple roughing up, to being sucker punched in the back of the head by a coward with 50+ pounds on me, among other incidents. When it wasn’t physical (boys or girls getting boys to do it for them), it was largely psychological abuse. I don’t prescribe to the sticks and stones mindset. Words can hurt and they have meanings, else our species would not have developed written and oral speech. I still carry some physical and many unseen mental scars from those years of abuse. Often, the school administration was less than sympathetic and in a few cases, I was actually punished for self-defense. I believe that such conditioning as a child left me more vulnerable to sexual violence as an adult.

My philosophy is that we should use words responsibly or not speak at all and that goes for everyone – little boys AND little girls and adult men AND adult women. No one gets a pass for any reason. Obviously, the level of response differs based on age, situation, etc., but I don’t just “let it go” anymore. For the sake of my own child, I refuse.

Relevant Links:

http://sacetalks.wordpress.com/2011/03/18/violent-games/

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3766/79/

Adultery, Gender and Forgiveness

2011-03-13T17:55:00.001-05:00

Blixa Scott, writing for The Good Men Project on "Why Do We Forgive Adulterous Women?"

In Tuesday’s piece on the double standard regarding adultery, Tom Matlack asks, "When was the last time a woman got dragged through the mud for cheating?"
I offer a slightly different question: When was the last time a woman was exposed for cheating—and the story wasn’t crafted around a narrative of love?
It’s true that the conspicuous distinction between Tiger Woods, Charlie Sheen, and Jesse James on the one hand and Elizabeth Gilbert, Tori Spelling, and LeAnn Rimes on the other is that the former are all men and the latter are all women. But a more significant distinction is that the adulterers in the first group all sought extra-marital sex, seemingly, for its own sake. But the adulterers in the second group were all portrayed as having fallen in love. In fact, in all of the examples Tom provided of infamous female adulterers, the women ended up leaving their husbands to form serious relationships with the other men.

This is an interesting article/thread and one that hits home for me. Twenty years ago, when I was still single, I was involved in a series of one-night stands with women I didn’t know. At least a half dozen were married women who initiated the sexual activities. All of them had, of course, never done this sort of thing before. (yawn). I never sought them out, they just seemed to "happen". In some cases, the women were fairly aggressive and made it clear that they wanted sex and nothing else.

At the time, I was in a phase of sexual grieving which took the form of subconsciously trying to take back power through promiscuity following a drug-induced rape I experienced at the hands of a female acquaintance. Fortunately, that phase did end before anything tragic occurred, but I took some really stupid chances back then with women I didn’t know. During that period, I seldom sought out sex partners but I never said no to those who approached me. It was as if it were just understood that I was not going to say no. I am not basing this on the ugly stereotype that all men want sex at all times from whoever is offering. Rather, I think I was transmitting "yes" nonverbally, if that makes sense.

In the moment, I didn’t see it, but in retrospect it was very dangerous for a variety of reasons. Obviously, sexually transmitted diseases were a threat. Then, there was the possibility of angry husbands finding out and getting violent, among other things. Further, I didn’t know these women and had absolutely no reason to trust them. They could have easily lied and made all kinds of claims if discovered. Fortunately, I did not have to confront such a situation.

Interestingly enough, the response I’ve received since becoming a sexual violence speaker has been completely lacking in criticism for the married women who slept with me back then. I have been asked several times if I forgave myself, but strangely enough no one seems to have anything negative to say about the women who cheated on their husbands with me.

Relevant Links:

http://goodmenproject.com/featured-content/why-do-we-forgive-adulterous-women/

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3765/79/

No More Drama: Love Should Not Hurt

2011-03-12T17:54:00.001-06:00

On Friday, March 4th, I attended a one-woman show by the very awesome P. Precious Porter at the University of DC:

The show was billed as a "performance that will allow you to see domestic violence through the eyes of all victims. This is a FREE public service event in support of victims/survivors of domestic violence. You will be given an opportunity to donate Mary Kay or purchase some for yourself to support victims/survivors who receives service from Romona's Way."

The program, "No More Drama: Love Should Not Hurt" was approximately 90 minutes long and covered the spectrum from relationship violence to sexual assault. A representative from Ramona's Way was in attendance as well as a representative from from Mary Kay.

Precious delivers an emotional and eye opening view into the different phases of an abusive relationship as well as the impact on the survivors, their immediate family and friends. Further, she included interviews with actual survivors as part of the performance. I was one such indivdual interviewed for the show.

While I knew I was part of the performance having previously agreed and been interviewed for the project, I hadn't yet experienced it personally. I had already been emotionally on edge during the first part of the performance. Once my own recording came through the speakers, I held my breath and hoped for the best. While I did get emotional while listening to my portion, I was proud that I had done it and and judging by the reactions of some of the other members of the audience, it had made an impact. I did experience that common mixture of panic attack and exposure that many survivors have described following their own public disclosures. In the end, I was proud to be a part of this project and in awe of the performance created by Precious.

I don't know when this show will come again, as this one was a one-off fundraiser, but I'll be sure to post a link at that time.

Thank you Precious and to everyone who attended and donated to better the lives of domestic violence survivors.

Relevant Links:

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3764/79/

Commenting Roundup

2011-02-12T17:52:00.000-06:00

I've been reading blogs more frequently as of late. Apparently, I've got that kind of time. :) My most recent blog entries have been in response to other bloggers. This entry is different as I am responding to comments made on other blogs:

The Thang Blog

Nix, whining that male survivors get mentioned at all in discussions about rape, left the following comment on a blog entry about "Schrodingers Rapist":

Most rapists are cis men, most victims are not cis men. Rape culture (which is heteronormative) is one in which men are encouraged to believe that they are entitled to the time, energy, conversations and bodies of other people – particularly women (and children). You must be aware of what signals you are sending, and in what environment is right – and if men don’t want to be assumed to be rapists then they/we need to actively combat rape culture, and make sure they/we are not acting in ways that presume entitlement. Unlike the "Muslims" or "black men" in the alternative situations outlined, in the situation of rape men are the privileged ones in the position of power.
So, OK, create a set of "non-gendered" "equal" rules so as not to hurt straight cis men’s feelings, but we do not live in a "non-gendered" "equal" society, and that is something that the comment fails to acknowledge.

Nix, use of non-gendered language is not about not hurting men’s feelings. I find that statement highly minimizing and almost mocking of male survivors. As a survivor of a female rapist, far more than my "feelings" were hurt when she raped me. My trust, my sense of self ownership and part of my soul died that day. Please try to remember that real people are involved, not just social and political points on a metaphorical scoreboard. Male survivors and even female survivors of female predators are done sitting quietly in the corner. You can either be our allies or get used to being called out as a rape apologist.

That's What Ze Said

Corvus, relegating male survivors to nothing but an annoying distraction, on "Rape is not gender-specific":

I think one thing is a little off in your post- while ALL types and genders of people do experience rape, the vast majority of people who perpetuate rape are men. Yes, sometimes women and other genders do rape. But most of the time, rape comes from male dominance and patriarchal propnents who are usually men.
The whole "women rape, too" thing is something often used by male rape culture apologists to minimize the role men have to play in fighting rape culture.

Corvus, while some apologists may use such an argument for their own purposes, there are also some men who mention it because it applies to their own experiences. I am a male rape survivor of a female rapist. We exist and deserve to be treated like fellow human beings and survivors worthy of respect and compassion. We are not a derailment or socio-political argument or anything else. We live and we breath and should be considered allies, not treated like an affront to the experiences of female survivors.

The Pursuit of Harpyness

In response to a blog entry titled "Redefining Rape: More Important Than Jobs", Mischiefmanager said:

"Think we’d be seeing the same kind of thing if male rape victims could get pregnant?"

Nope, the politicians would just continue to ignore us or openly mock us, like 99% of society. Per the norm. Any type of hierarchy of survivorhood is an insult to all survivors, regardless of gender or circumstance with regard to their attacks and attackers.

Relevant Links:

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3758/79/

My New Buddy Sargassosea, A Doodette Extreme

2011-02-07T17:50:00.000-06:00

It has been a while since I've felt compelled to take a critic apart in their own special blog entry. Well, once in a while someone expressly begs for it. So, here you go.

In response to my comments on a blog entry at "Scum-o-rama", my latest fan Sargassosea, attempts to "counsel" me on rape and gender, but ends up revealing her own hatred instead.

I’m a woman who can discuss rape in a serious manner, James and it’s a terrible thing to be raped, isn’t it?

Why yes Sargassossea, it is a terrible thing. We are in complete agreement here. By the way, I know quite a few women who can discuss rape in a serious manner.

But what I’m serious about is this: that I am sick and fucking tired of MEN bemoaning rape (especially on a radical feminist blog, ffs) when MEN are the perpetrators of rape.

Umm, no. SOME men are perpetrators of rape, just like SOME women. By the way, the moderator of that particular feminist blog has the comments on moderation and chose of her own free will to allow me to leave a comment when she could just have easily pressed delete. If you have an issue with that, perhaps you need to talk to her.

As women we do not even have to go to prison first to be raped, it happens in our own homes on a DAILY BASIS and often starts when we are still little girls. Yeah, we’re so "privileged" that we get to be *free* while we’re being raped.

Yeah, like the 1 in 6 men who will be sexually victimized in their lifetimes as well, many as little boys abused by their own mothers. The vast majority of men subjected to sexual violence are victimized OUTSIDE of prison, but nice attempt at promoting a rape myth about male survivors. I wondered how long it would take until the Oppression Olympics began again. Kind of ugly, but, umm, okay.

Frankly I don’t give a political crap about men who are being raped in prison because the only reason they’re being raped in the first place is because there are no convenient FEMALE fuck holes available. Jesus.

Victim-blaming much? I care about ALL people regardless of gender regardless of their social status, but I guess that makes me a bad person.

James, I’d advise you to take your *progressive feminist male* schtick to Feministing; they’re rather fond of virtually fellating doods like you over there. But you already knew that didn’t you?

I'm not much of a "progressive feminist male", more like a civil liberties and human rights activist who cares about all humans, rather than one who promotes hatred and uses generalizing slurs. Not sure what "doods" are but maybe a doctor can look at it for me?

She got her say and "put me in my place" on a "radical feminist blog" for making the mistake of caring about all survivors of rape and sexual abuse. Well, I guess that congratulations are in order on alienating a potential ally. Good on you. So, now I've responded and done so on an internationally syndicated weblog (part of the LexisNexis archive) that will make all those pretty words a permanent monument to How Not To Be A Compassionate Person.

Of course, she also defends her own ugly racism and privilege here. I see a trend developing. After nearly 20 years of interracial marriage, personal and professional attacks and death threats from white supremacists and hate mongerers, I've come to expect batshit crazy in all forms - even from other people in interracial relationships themselves.

My new buddy, doodette, and bestie did not disappoint. Of course, whether she is actually capable of discussing survivorhood in a serious manner is still up for debate given the utter lack of serious, mature commentary reflected in her response to me. Instead of anything resembling seriousness and compassion for fellow rape survivors, I see anger, victim-blaming and generalizations. Of course, racism and hatred go together, so exactly why am I surprised?

I guess I just expect better of people. Stupid me.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3757/79/

On Treating Male Survivors Like Actual Human Beings

2011-02-06T16:00:00.000-06:00

RCASA blogging on "Male victims of sexual assault and how it can vary from the victimization of females":

Most statistical analyses hypothesize that somewhere between 20 and 30% of American females will be victimized by sexual assault at some point in their lives; similar studies states that around 10% of males will be victims of sexual violence. There is some argument as to whether or not these numbers are skewed due to the decreased likelihood that male victims will come forward following an assault, but for arguments sake let’s say that these percentages are close to accurate. However, when observing the rates of males who seek therapy to heal after a sexual assault, these numbers plummet even further. In my years of working with victims of sexual violence I have worked with hundreds of female survivors; from responding to those in the hospital immediately following assaults, to support groups aimed at processing childhood abuse, to individual therapy settings. In that same time frame I have worked with nine males; only one of whom sought therapy specifically for the abuse.
After countless hours spent studying the difference between males and females in graduate school and learning about the impact of society’s gender roles and stereotypes it appears as though one of the most obvious differences is how the genders are taught they should be. Women in America are told from a young age that they can be vulnerable to such attacks; probably why my mother sent me to college with a rape whistle, pepper spray, and the sound advice of places to kick before running like crazy. Men, however, seem to be taught that being like women can be a sign of weakness, and therefore if they are victimized in the same way as a woman then it can be like an attack on their sense of manhood. This, combined with the same societal norms telling men that they should not talk about their feelings, could certainly be contributing to the large gap in male victims who seek therapy.
Fresh out of college I was wanting to use this knowledge to change how we raise boys in America, and while there might be a need for cultural change I want to use this opportunity to simply say that there is no shame in wanting to heal, and if therapy might assist with that then all I can say is taking that step is brave…funny, because bravery is one of those labels in our culture that our men are ‘supposed’ to be.

Thank you for writing this post and treating male survivors like human beings, worthy of compassion and concern. As a male rape survivor of a female rapist, I can tell you that the opposite is quite often the case. Just explore some of the archived postings on my weblog at the following link for a few examples:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/category/8/181/79/

Rigid gender norms and social stereotypes play a major role in keeping male survivors silent. Men are expected to say nothing, feel nothing and think nothing about sexual contact other than that they liked it. When I spoke out about my own rape, I was treated to victim-blaming phraseology such as “buyer’s remorse”, “what’s wrong with you?” and outright disbelief due to the common ‘truth’ that all men want sex all the time from all women regardless of the circumstance. Alpha male wannabes also play a role in silencing male survivors as they like to police the herd and make sure that any potential “weakness” is stomped on and kept silent through intimidation or mockery. Then there were the excuses and outright denial made about my female rapist – from other women. Ugly stuff all around.

Compounding the social biases and belief systems male survivors also encounter apathy, disbelief and mockery from some of the institutions and advocates who should be there to provide assistance. We also have to deal with the added bonus of denial of service by organizations who receive state taxpayer funds (also contributed to by male survivors) based on their promise to assist female and male survivors with said funds. Then, if we are fortunate enough to find a crisis center willing to help, we have to deal with sideways glances and being treated like a potential perp by both staff and fellow survivors.

Throw into the mix angry bloggers and media stories that almost always use gender specific pronouns when discussing survivors. Using such pronouns is proper when discussing specific individuals or when intentionally concentrating on a specific demographic of survivors. However, using such gender based pronouns when speaking generally sends the message that woman = victim and perp = man. This practice communicates to men that they are not truly welcomed into the survivor community and healing resources, as they are not actually considered “real” survivors.

That said, there are many wonderful and compassionate organizations and advocates who truly care about male survivors and treat as equals our female counterparts. Unfortunately, that seems to be the exception more often, rather than the rule.

Relevant Links:

Male Survivors: Just Not Getting It

2011-01-29T16:27:00.000-06:00

V, writing for subterfuge, on "He's Asking For It":

This is a confessional about rape. About men raping other men, because the men who are the victims are either gay or perceived to be gay. Contrary to my title, I don’t honestly think men are asking for it. I do not think that men — if rumored to be gay, if he acts effeminate, if he really is gay, etc — deserve to be raped anymore than I think women deserve to be raped.
But, I must confess…when I hear about it…in a way…I feel like it could be a good thing in disguise. And, this makes no sense, I realize. This makes no sense, because it’s ridiculous, shameful thought. It is illogical. Good things do not come out of rape. And, when I hear this, I think of Sharon Angle, who famously told rape victims to make lemonade out of the lemons they were given, rather than get abortions.

As a male survivor of a female rapist (drugged drink) and male rapist (who I successfully fought off) this was extremely difficult to read. While I understand that she acknowledged the shame she feels when she finds herself believing that men being raped is “a good thing in disguise” that doesn’t make it any easier as a rape survivor for me to be sympathetic to her reasoning. I get the point, but it feels differently on this side of the fence.

When I’m waking up in the middle of the night over and over and over due to hypervigilance or bad memories, I definitely don’t feel like what happened was “a good thing in disguise.” When I’m spending money I don’t have on therapy rather than on my child, I don’t feel like it was “a good thing in disguise.” When I can’t figure out if I need to curl into a ball and cry, scream my lungs out or put my fist through the wall, I really don’t feel like it was “a good thing in disguise”. When a woman gets on an elevator alone with me, my skin crawls and I have to center myself in order to avoid a panic attack. I don’t see that as “a good thing in disguise” either.

In an attempt to explain her reasoning, V notes the rise in men reporting and increased coverage of male survivors:

Men now have to stop and think twice. Maybe this isn’t on a large scale yet, maybe it never will be. But, it’s starting. Men now have to worry about the same things women do, even if on a smaller scale yet, and it’s being reported in the media more and more.
Soon, I would not be surprised if men decide it is within even their own best interests if they crack down on rapists, if they treat it as less of a joke and more of a problem that could effect them and their family just as easily as it could effect the prostitute on the street corner, the drunk co-ed at the frat party she shouldn’t be at, the too-flirtatious girl in her boyfriend’s car, the high school cheerleader after school wearing a miniskirt in the 7-11 and parked away from the windows and cameras.

Stop and think twice? You bet. I struggle with trust issues regarding women on a regular basis. I doubt that is the desired effect though. As far as cracking down on rapists goes, the overwhelmingly vast majority of men are NOT rapists. The problem isn't men, it is those individuals who commit rape and those individuals who enable them by either looking the other way, minimizing the experiences of survivors or preventing justice from being served.

I don’t see how my experiences could ever been seen as “a good thing in disguise”. Maybe I'm a little bit pissy today, but this really got under my skin.

Relevant Links:

http://subterfusex.wordpress.com/2010/11/22/hes-asking-for-it/

Originally published at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3754/79/

A Real Perspective on Prison Rape

2011-01-29T16:26:00.000-06:00

Miska of SCUM-O-RAMA! discusses prison rape in "lets get some perspective":

"if men really seriously have a problem with prison rape (and its obvious they dont, otherwise they wouldnt joke about it so flippantly all the time), then I guess they should stop raping other men in prison or something. CRAZY SOLUTION, I KNOW."

As a rape survivor myself and a supporter of the Prison Rape Elimination Act, I can attest to the fact that there are many real men and women devoted to ending prison rape andwilling to discuss it in a serious and mature manner, rather than just the manchild(s) that Miska has been unfortunately exposed to and describes above. I'm not gonna play the survivor statistics minimization game that many find so fulfilling as one survivor of any type is just plain one survivor too many. Silencing the voice of any survivor for any reason and making sweeping generalizations is an abhorrent thought to me and I'm grateful that the major survivor advocacy groups refuse to engage in such disgusting behaviour.

Just Detention International is one very serious organization with regard to the abolition of prison rape for all inmates and they’ve done a great deal of work in that area. I’d recommend that anyone truly interested in ending prison rape give their website and advocacy works a view. A summary of their mission statement is below:

"Cases of sexual abuse in detention are not rare, isolated incidents, but the result of a systemic failure to protect the safety of inmates. Victims of prisoner rape are left beaten and bloodied, contract HIV and other sexually transmitted diseases, and suffer severe psychological harm. Once released – and the vast majority of prisoners do eventually get out – they return to their communities with all of their physical and emotional scars."

It is not about the statistics or who has it worse. Oppression Olympics are an ugly, minimizing and childish way to score "points." Rape of any kind, against anyone, is a human rights tragedy and I have a real problem when I see it defended, used as a form of mockery or turned into a weapon to silence survivors based on gender, regardless of who the offending apologist is at that moment. A recent coalition letter (disclosure: signed by me as well) that included survivor advocates like RAINN, JDI and other organizations from across the political spectrum is available on my website. Any readers truly interested in helping prison rape survivors and have the time to give, could make an impact supporting the work of JDI.

Feel free to leave comments here or in the Current Events forum at Pandora's Aquarium if you are a member.

Relevant Links:

Originally published at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3753/79/

Vengeance, Is Thy Name Entertainment?

2011-01-29T16:25:00.000-06:00

rainsinger at Rain's Place has an interesting blog entry on "Women’s ‘Revenge’ Films":

One of my favourite genres of all, films where women "return fire", usually for rape/assault, but also for other forms of male violence-against-women, occasionally revenge for men’s betrayals in other forms, eg setting up women to take the fall for crimes. These films may, or may not, include female kick-butt action – but my group of favourite revenge-flicks refers mainly to those films where the main themes and storylines, revolve around women taking action against male abuse, (and ‘win’) regardless of any action/violence content.

The list and film descriptions were a bit triggering and hard to read, yet fascinating at the same time. My difficulty regarding the list is related to my own experience at the hands of a female rapist. I've often wondered if she randomly targeted me as payback for what someone else did to her. As I cannot ask her why at this point, I can only conjecture. Regardless of her rationale, she committed a henious and disgusting act against another human being and I don't owe her an ounce of sympathy for her possibly misdirected vengeance. Nor does she have the right to expect otherwise.

That said, back the topic at hand. I've seen some of the films and read about some of the others. I've often wondered how therapeutic such films may be to certain survivors of sexual or domestic violence. While I object to the clearly exploitative nature of most of the rape scenes in such films, to include the gratuitious nudity, I still wonder if there is any value to be mined from the genre for survivors of sexual violence. Obviously, trigger warnings and watching at your own risk apply regardless. As I moderate the entertainment section of a popular online forum for sexual violence survivors, I've seen both pros and cons posted in the threads about such films. In the end, it will be up to the individual as to what they can tolerate and the value they may attach to such films. Before you flame me, I'm NOT recommending and I'm NOT not recommending such films. Mmmkay?

So, what do you think?

You can leave your comments here, or join the discussion in the Entertainment forums at Pandora's Aquarium.

Relevant Links:

Rain's Place: "Women's 'Revenge' Films" - http://rainsinger.wordpress.com/2011/01/16/womens-revenge-films/
Pandora's Aquarium - http://pandys.org/forums/index.php?act=idx

Originally published at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3752/79/

No Points for "Bravely" Admitting and Then Defending Gender Based Bigotry

2011-01-29T16:24:00.000-06:00

Nicole Sprinkle, guest blogging for the Motherlode section of the New York Times on "Tarring Men ":

Recently, I was in a big child care bind. My daughter began a preschool that ends at 3:30, and my husband and I both work until six. Finding a sitter for just 2 1/2 hours five days a week was tough. Most qualified nannies wanted full-time work. That left us with a relatively small pool of candidates made up mostly of students with flexible schedules who were willing to get any money they could in between classes, and one stay-at home mother with a 4-year-old looking for a little extra spending money. She seemed like the no-brainer choice. Local. Mother. Good references.

Nicole goes on to describe how the best candidate for the job was a young man with significant babysitting experience and outstanding referneces. The problem? He unfortunately has a penis, therefore he cannot be trusted. I will give her credit for acknowledging her bias but I still call bullshit on her weak defense of gender based discrimination. It is her right to hire who she wants, but I'm not gonna excuse her bigotry simply because she acknowledges it. Try transcending and then we can talk.

To illustrate a point, this prefaces the blog post and was likely written by Lisa Belkin, who ran Nicole's blog entry in her spot:

A lone man is sitting on a bench at the playground, watching the children on the swings? Your reaction?
That is Nicole Sprinkle’s as well. And in a guest post today she explores the assumptions so many of us make about men and children, conceding that she has an intellectual solution, but not an emotional one.

My reaction to seeing a man sitting on a bench near a playground? Umm, maybe one of the kids is his? Maybe he lost a child and seeing children play warms his heart? Maybe he is on his lunch break? Maybe he just likes the park?

Obviously, we are supposed to assume the man is a sexual predator and be afraid, afraid and very afraid. Hmmm.

For those who don't know, I was drugged and raped by a woman when I was 19 and was involved with some abusive women in relationships that followed that experience. I think that as a result of my personal experiences, I could easily justify projecting a sexist, bigoted and ugly knee-jerk reaction to any woman I see around my male child. Trust is an issue for me and one that I admit freely. There is a difference between admitting to struggling with trauma related trust issues and outright defending bigotry.

I have to say that the sexism running rampant in several of the comments attached to the blog entry do not sit well with me.

This one in particular got my ire up:

"C'mon, now. I don't care what your rationales may be; it is always a crap shoot whether or not children will be safe when left in the care of men-even their own fathers. Need I remind women everywhere that men are NOT women, either in their sex drives or in their bonding capabilities?"

Guess what? I refuse, despite my own personal experiences, to be a bigot. I simply refuse to give into my fears and mistrust, which would be a weak justification for committing employment discrimination, fostering sexism and promoting bigotry. I don't need a guest blog spot from the NYT to make excuses because I refuse to generalize based on gender, unlike many of the commenters in that thread who share the gender of my own rapist.

It is always fascinating how easy it is for some individuals to excuse ugliness when they happen to share the same demographic. Fortunately, many commenters took Nicole and some of the other commenters to task for their justification of bigotry based employment discrimation.

April at ethecofem summed the whole thing up nicely here :

"Nicole Sprinkle, a guest poster on the New York Times parenthood blog, used an entire article to relay a story about how she discriminated against a young man for being a male."

What she said.

Originally published at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3745/79/

Wounding With Words 101

2011-01-29T16:22:00.000-06:00

From time to time, rape survivors are confronted by callous or unintentionally invalidating remarks by friends, family, colleagues, fellow survivors or random strangers. Sometimes input has been solicited and is in response to disclosures by the survivor. Just as often, the invalidating words come from people who lack the self-control and maturity to keep their mouths shut if they just cannot muster the compassion to be understanding or supportive. While we all make mistakes and sometimes unintentionally say things that hurt, there are others who go out of their way to hurt survivors.

Below, I've supplied a short list of some invalidating comments that I've been treated to over the years since I began to work on my own healing:

From a random female survivor: "At some point you must have wanted it."

Yeah, I really wanted to be drugged, raped and blackmailed. Do me a favor and don't tell me what I did and did not want. Did you want to be raped? Or cannot you just not get past that fact that a woman can use her vagina to rape a man same as a man can use his penis? Is your brain really that inflexible and your bias so ingrained? Apparently so.

A frequent comment from well-meaning friends and acquaintances: "You need to get over it" and "That still bothers you?"

Yeah, it works just like that. It is just like stubbing your toe. You just get over it - like magic. Kindly never say something that naive and ridiculous again. Thank you.

From another female survivor: "I don't understand why you didn't just say no BEFORE you went to sleep."

UMMMMM, what part of DRUGGED AND UNABLE TO CONSENT is so hard for you to understand you fucking clueless wonder????

Countless "tough" guys: "I'd have thrown her off" or "I'd have kicked that bitch's ass." And on and on in standard tough guy voice.

Yeah, I'm so sure that you'd have risked hurting a pregnant woman and her fetus in order to maintain your precious status as an alpha male wannabe tough guy. How about you shut up and go back to your action movies and six pack of whatever beer happens to be cheapest this week. I don't need your input nor do you have anything intelligent to impart.

From yet another invalidating female survivor: "I'd like to hear her side of it."

Why does my rapist get a vote? Because she has a vagina? So that makes it okay to look for excuses to rationalize what she did??? How about no, you don't get to "hear her side of it" anymore than I would insist upon hearing from the man who raped you, lest I invalidate your pain.

I'm gonna stop here as I am beginning to become triggered and very angry. This vent felt good though and I've resolved to do it more often. However, I would like to thank those secondary survivors who help us to heal and make sure you know that your sacrifice and commitment does not go unnoticed. So, thank you.

For secondary survivors (supporters) and other survivors interested, some resources are supplied below on how to support the survivor in your life. Being a supporter is hard work and can be extremely stressful at times, so be sure to explore the resources on how to self-care as well.

Relevant Links:

Pandora's Project: For Friends, Family & Partners of Rape & Sexual Abuse Survivors
http://www.pandys.org/secondarysurvivors.html

Resurrection After Rape: A Man's Guide to Helping a Woman who's been Raped
http://www.resurrectionafterrape.org/media/Rape%20-%20mens%20guide.pdf

Resurrection After Rape: A Parent's Guide to Helping a Daughter who's been Raped
http://www.resurrectionafterrape.org/media/Rape%20-parents%20guide.pdf

Resurrection After Rape: Things NOT to say to a Survivor
http://www.resurrectionafterrape.org/media/Things%20Not%20to%20Say%20to%20a%20Survivor.pdf

MaleSurvivor: Suggestions for Partners
http://www.malesurvivor.org/docs/Oprah.comSuggestionsforPartners.doc

Originally published at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3731/79/

On Gendering Rape: The Statistics Defense

2010-10-12T22:39:00.001-05:00

Once I began to speak out on my own rape, I was surprised at the number of men and women who wrote to me or called me to talk about their own experiences at the hands of predatory women. Quite a few of the men who contacted me reported that they had been raped by women while attending college. Common methods used included alchohol, drugs or coercion. It happens far more often than most people realize and gets very little attention with regard to prevention and prosecution. In many cases it is outright denied or the concept mocked. Many resources for survivors give it lip service and little else, when it is acknowledged at all. Men are told to suck it up or that they are "lucky" if the perp was a woman. Or their sexual orientation is questioned or it devolves into outright mockery. That's fun. Then our bodies are used against us to excuse or deny sexual violence committed by women. The "wet noodle" defense or erection = consent meme is a common tactic trotted out by those who wish to deny or make excuses for female offenders. This leads to an abysmal number of men willing to report abuse by women. Why report when so many of those people/organizations who are supposed to be advocating on behalf of survivors are willing to excuse, minimize or outright deny your experience on the basis of gender? Mockery, denial and excuses are only compounded when organizations create awareness campaigns that either accidentally or intentionally give the impression that rape consists of male = predator and female = survivor. For instance, campaigns targeting men that focus on how not to be a rapist or the difference between yes and no clearly promote the concept that rapists are men and survivors are women.

While I understand that statistical models are often used to determine how to direct and target prevention campaigns, such models can also be their own worst enemies by influencing how and who reports, corrupting the very statistics themselves. In short, the numbers of men reporting are very low due to underreporting and most survivor organizations I've worked with or consulted acknowledge this and that a large part of the reason is public perception. For example, the following are examples of some widespread misconceptions that male survivors face: a) men can't be raped and b) women can't be rapists. Campaigns that target males only as rapists continue to feed the public perception that only men can be rapists leading to fewer males reporting rapes and also negatively impacts female survivor reporting by silencing those who were hurt at the hands of other women, which further skews the numbers they use to justify the campaigns in the first place. It is a vicious cycle and one we need to break if survivor advocates are truly committed to ending sexual violence. While the focus of such campaigns should rightfully be on the behaviour of the rapists and not the survivors, we should not be further promoting the concept that rapist = male and survivor = female.

Politicizing and gendercizing rape only serves to minimize and further alienate those survivors who don't fit into the traditionally promoted model of survivor vs. predator. Individual survivors have enough "reasons" to not seek assistance or fully acknowledge the violence they experienced. Prevention and survivor outreach models should not create additional mental barriers and public expectations/stereotypes.

This entry also posted here: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3693/79/

Interviewed by the Courage Network

2010-06-06T21:00:00.000-05:00

I was interviewed today by Lyn Twyman of the Courage Network . Previously, they have interviewed Judge Lynn Toler (of TV show Divorce Court), motivational speaker Tony Gaskins, and Mildred Muhammad, ex-wife of serial killer John Allen Muhammad, among others, on the topics of relationships and violence. Today, they were looking to speak to a male rape survivor and reached out to me.

The Courage Network describes itself as:

"A community for domestic violence survivors, family & friends, advocates, professionals and organizations. A resource and inspiration for victims, families, friends and those dealing with domestic violence in their personal lives. Stay connected in one place for information, support, resources and what the community is doing to raise awareness and prevent abuse."

It will be a week or so before the audio is online (http://www.couragenetwork.com/interviews.html). I was able to mention a few of my favorite resources during the interview, such as Pandora's Aquarium (http://www.pandys.org), MaleSurvivor (http://www.malesurvivor.org), and Resurrection After Rape (http://www.resurrectionafterrape.org). In addition, I discussed the current state of affairs with regard to the availability of assistance for male survivors and countered a few offensive myths that we face on the road to acceptance and healing.

I want to personally thank founder Lyn Twyman for taking the time to reach out and include male survivors in the interview series at the Courage Network. I know that the Network would definitely appreciate new members and I encourage you to join and support the organization's mission.

Empowerrment Theatre Company

2010-04-18T13:19:00.001-05:00

I was contacted by a representative of the Empowerment Theatre Company who requested permission to use an account of my own rape as part of a theatre performance focusing on rape and sexual abuse survival. While I am across the Atlantic and unable to attend their performances, I know there are readers who live in the U.K. and may be able to support the Theatre and their mission.

They have a Facebook group and website currently under construction, links below:

From their website:

The Empowerment Theatre Company is an ensemble of performers, based in Norwich, Norfolk, dedicated to working for and with the survivors of sexual assault and rape. Our services will also be available to relatives and friends of survivors who have been affected by the trauma of sexual violence.

The company uses inclusive theatre techniques to create a 'safe' environment for survivors to explore their issues in a creative and positive way. The ultimate aim for the organisation is to help survivors and create a positive outcome of an intensely negative situation. We will focus on the effects of abuse and violence, and on the stories of the individuals. By doing this the Empowerment Theatre Company will be able to devise a piece of theatre to take to community audiences that will raise awareness of the effects of rape and alter the attitudes of the general public to this crime and what it means to the individual.

Our main aims are:

To engage with survivors and their friends and family that have been affected by rape and sexual assault.
To build a creative theatre company working as an ensemble to create quality theatre/performance/art.
To further devise a method of working specifically for members of the community who are affected by sexual violence.
To be available to the community to raise awareness of the strength of survivors and to assist any other organisations with similar aims and objectives in an outreach capacity.

This entry also posted here: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3606/79/

Oprah, Please Get This Right or Just Don't Bother

2010-02-15T20:23:00.002-06:00

Apparently, Oprah will be covering the topic of female sexual predators on an upcoming show. While I am heartened to see this topic getting more coverage lately, I have serious reservations.

I hope she and her staff do a decent job with this topic and that it is done without any deference or excuse-making for the female offenders by trying to paint them as victims too, as is often the case when this topic comes up in the media and blogoshpere. Given the very sorry, sympathetic portrayal of female offenders a related topic presented in her magazine in 2008, I'll be viewing this episode with a skeptical eye.

I've seen this issue botched over and over too many times in the past in multiple forms to be hopeful that Oprah and staff will get it right. I sincerely wish that my skepticism is proven baseless.

What I fear (whenever this topic is covered, not specifically from Oprah) is a rehashing of the following myths by some "expert" who presents such garbage mostly unchallenged:

Sexual abuse by women is not as damaging as that committed by men (minimization)
Males sexually abused by women do not suffer long-term trauma (minimization)
Women only abuse because they've been abused themselves (blame-shifting)
Women only abuse in tandem with a male abuser who is really the alpha abuser (blame-shifting)
Going to great lengths to keep reinforcing that the sketchy statistics on female abusers show that group as much smaller than that of male abusers (which is a form of blatant minimization that occurs often when this topic is discussed)

Oprah, please get this right or don't even bother. Those of us who have been hurt at the hands of a woman deserve better than a re-wounding for the sake of ratings.

Also posted here: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3566/79/

Interview with Matt Atkinson, author of Resurrection After Rape

2009-10-30T19:11:00.009-05:00

This will be the first in a series of interviews with authors, activists and other individuals who are making a difference in the lives of individuals, their community and the world at large.

Today, I am talking with Matt Atkinson, author of Resurrection After Rape and a therapist specializing in the treatment of trauma related to abuse and assault. He has won national awards for his expertise in the treatment and prevention of sexual violence. By way of disclosure, I should mention that I am a rape survivor and include Resurrection After Rape as part of my healing and support network. In addition, I am a member of the discussion group associated with the book.

In short, Matt is not a random stranger, but someone I trust and respect for the work he is doing to help those of us who struggle with the effects of trauma in our daily lives.

Let’s get started.

How did you become interested in working with trauma survivors?

Originally, I intended to just work with Indian tribes here in Oklahoma. My focus during graduate school was Native issues in social work, right down to my thesis on incorporating traditional culture into client care. I started working with some of the tribes here to develop cultural programs in Indian housing communities, and these programs were very successful. Just as funding cuts killed our local program, tribes across the country began requesting me as a trainer, and I traveled to other reservations and tribal colleges to teach community leaders how to recreate the very program we'd just ended back home. One thing I noticed in that work was the high prevalence of intimate partner violence (Indian women have the highest rates of victimization of any group in North America), and while tribes have been innovators in anti-drug and anti-alcohol programs, IPV had been almost invisible in tribal grants and services.
It was by chance that I saw a job posting that sought a person to develop and direct domestic violence/sexual assault prevention education programs in Oklahoma. They wanted someone with experience teaching youth, ability to speak in public, cross-cultural experience, and familiarity with research. What they hadn't expected was a male applicant, and the notion was scandalous at first. I began working as a staff director for a DV/SA crisis program in the 1990s, and at first my job was routine: go into schools and present a scripted curriculum. I found, though, that my real education about intimate partner violence, including sexual assault, happened after classes when school students would ask, "can I talk to you alone?" Teen girls were crowding around me day after day, divulging stories of physical, sexual, and emotional abuse in their relationships. For many, I was the first person they had ever told. These became the real-life faces and voices that transcended the raw statistics I'd memorized but never emotionally comprehended before.

The more I heard, the more I realized that simply educating for prevention was a step too late. It was already happening. People needed opportunities to talk and question, and to trust the information they were getting, because they were confused and ashamed. As time passed, I found that this problem overflowed the stereotypes we have all learned. It was happening to every age group—including the seniors at churches where I spoke. It was happening to boys and men, too. It was happening to gay and lesbian people. It was happening to members of every background I could see. One psychiatric hospital began inviting me in to do presentations for their groups of patients, and every time I referred to dating violence or sexual assault there was always widespread relevance. I think that is where I finally saw the need to cross over from basic education to specialized counseling for victims of trauma. I saw people who were lumped under diagnoses like Major Depression, Panic Disorder, Personality Disorder, PTSD…but what they almost always had in common was violent trauma. Therapists were treating the effects, not the causes.

What is your philosophical approach toward healing?

Aside from all the clinical symptoms of trauma, I see one major, fundamental wound that pervades sexual assault: the sense of being personally severed from the rest of life. Victims of sexual assault tell me in the best terms they can that they feel expelled from the "circle of life" by their trauma. Cast out of the garden. Disconnected. Amputated from the body of humanity. Rejected even by God. This senses of being personally extracted from a place of belonging in the web of life isn't something you can quantify with a diagnosis; it's a deeply personal, spiritual wound. I think that traditional therapies fall short because they fail to help the survivor reintegrate him/herself with life. There is something wrong when over 90% of rape victims say that traditional therapies just didn't cut it. The mainstream approach to counseling is so constricted by a lack of innovative care, fear of risk, and the economics of insurance that the more existential forms of healing are not only omitted, but seen as "weird" anymore. The truth that compassion must play a role in the relationship between counselor and client is taboo; the importance of symbolic ceremony to commemorate healing is missing in most therapies; treatment is oriented toward stabilization of symptoms rather than restoration of power, wholeness, and connection to life.
My idea is that the power, honor, and status of healing belong to the survivor, not to the therapist. I become very uncomfortable when I am flattered by a client, because while I appreciate that they value my role in their healing, ultimately it is their work to do, and thus their honor that results. The older Freudian notion of the therapist wielding power in the treatment relationship is horrifying to me, especially when working with a survivor of trauma who most needs their power and authority restored. So my philosophy is treatment of rape is a deeply-collaborative process of restoring the survivor's strength of body, mind, emotions, and spirit.

Socially and politically, what do you see as the most urgent challenges faced by today's survivors of rape, sexual assault and abuse?

Socially, we continue to be a victim-blaming society. The first fear felt by rape victims moments after the assault is, "Oh my God, nobody will believe me!" Our cultural stories about rape mislead us into myths that rape could be prevented if women simply changed their lives to avoid men's violence, that victims of rape are always female and always guilty of "putting themselves in that position," that rape is an extreme form of sexual behavior. Most peoples' concept of rape is that it is something very bad done by psychotic creeps, so it's a good thing it's rare. The truth is that it's increasingly perpetrated by men we would regard as "normal" in any other way, responding to constant conditioning that links sexuality with power and domination, and it's very common.
Politically, I find that rape treatment and crisis programs are in constant danger of being de-funded, because resources for rape victims are seen as optional privileges rather than matters of social and moral justice. I also think politicians are prone to the misguided notion that resources for trauma survivors—shelters, community education programs, law enforcement trainings, medical trainings, therapist trainings, and clinical care—could just as easily be provided through charity at the local level. Sadly, we have seen that is just not true; sexual abuse and assault programs always enjoy sentimental support in the public mind, but without corresponding material support. That's why before 1994 there were only 15 women's shelters in the United States, and women had to pay for their own medical rape examinations. Following 1994—the Violence Against Women Act—the number of shelters has jumped to around 2,000 and medical care, including forensic examinations, are funded. These services simply would not exist if there had not been the political will to create and sustain them. James, I share your left-libertarian views on the rights of people to make personal choices over their lives. Support for resources like these are one area in which I think public funding (read: "government") is simply essential, because these resources vanish otherwise. I think it reasonably falls under our responsibility to uphold personhood, rights, liberty, and property.

What inspired you to compile and publish Resurrection After Rape? What is unique about this healing resource compared to other offerings available to survivors?

I had worked with over 500 rape survivors, both men and women, in counseling. And without exception, they were remarkable people with amazing strengths and stories, even if they did not recognize those strengths themselves at times. I have read nearly every book currently in print about rape trauma, plus countless research articles, and participated in dozens of trainings. What I noticed, though, was that over and over the research, workshops, and guidelines were produced in the voice of the academic or counselor. For years, I heard psychologists and social workers offer training seminars on their research, or read books by therapists about their agenda. What was missing were the voices of survivors! We had tons of research, but survivors remained invisible and mute throughout. The irony is that all of this research and training was somehow supposed to equip us to "empower" survivors, and yet the actual form of the work continued to deny survivors a lead position. When I wrote "Resurrection," my plan was to include the writings, stories, and even artwork of survivors so that their lives, in their own words, would become the predominant demonstration of empowerment, rather than yet another book by yet another therapist writing only about their techniques. Dozens of survivors enthusiastically offered abundant writings and artwork, and it became apparent that survivors wanted desperately to share their achievements, but had been waiting for any way to add their voice to the field of rape work. What was amazing is that as word of the project spread, survivors approached me to ASK for their stories to be included; I did not have to recruit a single contributor. It was as if being able to share their stories for the benefit of others was a long-sought form of healing as well.
Also, there are a lot of topics that continue to be "taboo" even in clinical research, and yet real-life survivors struggle with the daily. For example, hardly any book about rape recovery addresses issues like promiscuity after rape, or having a physical sexual response during rape, or anger at God after rape, or self-injury and sexual trauma. And yet these are issues that many survivors try to cope with. Their absence in books only contributes to the survivor's sense of shame that their secret struggle is perhaps "too grisly" for rape recovery books to even discuss. In some cases, books on rape recovery have even been so gentle, so "chicken soup," that survivors can't relate. Rape recovery is a terrifying, exhausting, bewildering, and sharp-edged process; it's not poetic, pastel, and dainty. Resources that perfume rape recovery are easier to read, but ultimately not helpful. I'm intrigued by the number of readers of "Resurrection" who have written to me that they have hurled the book across the room in fury, avoided it, cursed it ("that damned book!"), and then come back and resumed the work. To be that pissed off and yet continue takes real courage.

What other projects are you working on or planning in the next few years?

In my career, I'm about to start a new project where I'll be planning and creating fifteen new rape crisis programs across my state, from the ground up. In rural areas where there are no services for rape victims, I'll be working for the Oklahoma Coalition Against Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault to develop medical resources, law enforcement trainings, education curricula, and counseling programs.
I'm working on two new books. In "Resurrection," everyone's favorite section is the "letters to future survivors" at the end. So I'm going to develop a book just of those. Rape survivors, male or female, will be able to write personal letters of encouragement and advice to the "next wave" of victims who need to know they are not alone and outcast. A whole book of these letters will be a tremendous resource. And I'd like to expand the project to other books for survivors of other struggles: breast cancer, loss of a child, depression, families of suicide, etc.
The other book I'm working on is called "The God of Wounded People." It's an eclectic—meaning "weird"—book because it's partly my own spiritual autobiography, partly a workbook, and partly a manifesto about the innate worth of people who have survived trauma. Since so few therapists are comfortable including spirituality in clinical work, this book will look at the role of spirituality in healing from trauma.

Suppose that you had millions of dollars at your disposal from an anonymous donor with the sole caveat being that you must use it as you see fit for the betterment of sexual trauma survivors. How would you use those funds and what type of programs would you implement?

Is this a hint? Do you have a check for me, James?
Seriously, this would be my dream. My own dream: A residential resort setting (NOT hospital in-patient) in mountains, with nearby trails and lakes. People come voluntarily and stay in a safe, secluded setting with other survivors. An emphasis is placed on social aspects of recovery, such as group bonding and activity. Canoeing, horseback riding, hiking, campfires at night, and fun activities (the real kind, not the "cut out construction paper" crafts you do in a hospital. I'm thinking, midnight broom hockey! Gab fests!)
Therapy is done in group work with lots of available individual attention. With mountain air all around, being asked to journal is not a chore--just find a tree and sit in the mountains and write.
Therapists would be creative and unconventional. The mindset of therapy is equality and collaboration with the client, not authoritarian counseling. Therapists would be encouraged to participate in all aspects of treatment, including the group work AND the social experience, joining cadres of clients for coffee, roasting marshmallows over campfires with them, joining them in the sweatlodge, sitting in circles with them to talk and joke. The term "boundaries" would refer to conditions over use of touch or harmful action, rather than a term that segregates client and therapist from a holistic collaboration in all aspects of recovery.
The use of art and creativity would be primary. Mural paintings, collages, medicine bags, and other right-brained processes would not be excluded form the work. Clients would contribute to the maintenance of the treatment grounds: caring for horses, assisting in meals and cleanup, etc. The program would be available on a sliding fee scale, so that unlike other "resort treatment" programs it does not exclude all but the wealthy.
This is my DREAM. Other people may crave riches for personal gratitude, but I wish I had a couple of million dollars to start this kind of facility. Nothing like it has been tried, and I believe it would become the world's model program for survivors.

Finally, what would you say to someone who is reading this interview and wondering how to take that first, brave step toward healing?

1. Forgive yourself for how difficult the recovery process is. This is not like getting over a cold. Recovery from sexual trauma is the most difficult thing you will ever do in your life, and it is so worth it! When people pressure you to “get over it”, don’t feel guilty—they just don’t understand that this is a wound that can go all the way to the soul.
2. Find a way to start talking about what happened. Hiding your experience makes it feel like something shameful, something you can’t handle. Little by little, come out of hiding and begin to speak about your experiences. This can be a therapist, one honest friend, or an online support resource like dailystrength.org.
3. Journal! Hand-write rather than typing, and write at east 20 minutes a day. Don’t use your journal to endlessly describe feeling ugly, weak, or shameful; use your journal to fight back against darkness and purge those things onto paper.
4. Take good physical care of yourself. It’s hard to re-conceive of yourself as a powerful, worthy person if you are depriving yourself of nurturing. Eat healthy, sleep, take medications properly, free yourself from abusive relationships, and respect your body. Do not use food, drugs, or self-harming behaviors to avoid difficult emotions. Recovery is not a beauty contest, but it is a process of finding your worth again.
5. Seek and study as much information as you can find about your trauma. Find the best books and gather information, because it makes the symptoms of trauma less frightening and more manageable.

Conclusion

I would like to remind readers that while you may not personally have been forced to endure a traumatic experience, you do know someone (most likely several people) who deal with PTSD and other emotional and physical symptoms related to such experiences. Healing is not an easy task, but rather a committed and difficult journey with many steps, detours and sometimes – dead ends. There is no such thing as simply “getting over it” or “leaving it in the past”. The effects, even decades later, can continue to manifest themselves in the lives of trauma survivors in ways visible and hidden.

Countless individuals and organizations who give of their time and expertise to help those of us on the healing journey are so important and I am happy to have been able to take a moment to highlight the wonderful work of one such individual. Thank you Matt for agreeing to participate in this interview series and for all of the work you do on behalf of survivors everywhere.

For those readers interested in learning more about the resources mentioned above the following links have been provided:

Resurrection After Rape (official website of the book) - http://www.resurrectionafterrape.org/
Resurrection After Rape Discussion Group - http://www.dailystrength.org/groups/resurrection-after-rape
Daily Strength – http://www.dailystrength.org
Oklahoma Coalition Against Domestic Violence and Sexual Assault - http://www.ocadvsa.org/
Violence Against Women Act - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Violence_Against_Women_Act

TBTN at Randolph College: Recap

2009-10-20T00:08:00.001-05:00

I was booked for a Take Back The Night event on October 14th. The faculty sponsor and the chair of the event were both excited to have a male speaker as they've not had one for a TBTN event in the past. The marching portion of the event at Randolph College (formerly Randolph-Macon Women's College - now coed) was rained out, but a modified program was conducted indoors at the Student Center.

Given that the event was scheduled for 7:00 pm and I had to drive three and a half hours to get there, I expected to be tired. Fortunately, the campus coffee shop was still open so I got my medicine and was refreshed and ready to talk. I started out the night introduced as the RAINN Speakers Bureau speaker and talked about my own experiences and healing process, covered several myths about rape and survivors (provided by members of Pandys, MaleSurvivor and DailyStrength), took questions afterward for several minutes and then the mic was opened up for student participation. The majority of questions had to do with my experiences as a male survivor of a female rapist.

As is typical at such events, several students came forward and shared their own stories. After hearing me talk about the woman who raped me, one of the attendees of the event came forward to discuss how her female best friend abused and eventually raped her in middle school. She angrily shared that she had never talked about it before because she was told what a lot of people are told and unfortunately many believe - that girls and women don't commit rape or sexual abuse. A male attendee also related being abused by his female babysitter as a child, something he had never talked about publicly. I gave him my card and let him know he can contact me when and if he is ready to talk about it further. Several women talked about their experiences with CSA at the hands of male family members or teachers.

Listening to the stories is always hard, but inspiring, especially when someone breaks the silence for the first time. I am proud of all of them for showing up and for those who bravely got behind the microphone and shared their pain publicly. It was a very emotional 3 hours and I think nearly everyone cried at some point during the night.

A student from the college newspaper was present to cover the event. I gave her my card, answered a few followup questions and asked her to email me the story when it was published.

I slept in the next day after as I didn't get back until after 1:00 am. Seven hours of driving and three hours of highly emotional and triggering discussion was very draining. I am tentatively booked as a speaker for a RAINN Day event at another Virginia college. They are still working out the date and other details. I will post a recap following that event.

"Comfort Women" Still Waiting on Japan to Own Up to the Past

2009-08-28T15:54:00.001-05:00

Peace X Peace on "This Story Will Not Die" A Cry from Korea for Human Rights and Peace:

During World War II, many thousands of women were forced to serve the Japanese army as sexual slaves. The majority were from Korea, and many came from China and Japan, but women from the Philippines, Thailand, Vietnam, Malaysia, Taiwan, the Dutch East Indies, the Netherlands, Australia, Indonesia, New Guinea, Burma, and other nations were also interned and abused in the hideously mis-named "comfort stations."

This subject always makes me both sad and infuriated. Perhaps part of this is based on my participation in civil liberties activism and the empathy that requires. On the other hand, I am also a rape survivor and that drives this topic home harder for me. As bad as my PTSD can be at times after being raped twice, I cannot imagine the trauma these women deal with on a daily basis or how many committed suicide or died young due to injuries acquired in these horrible rape camps.

Survivor and activist Won Ok Gil has been telling her story for years in hopes it will serve as a warning to future generations:

It has been many years since the war ended and I have never been able to live as a true human being. I am 82 years old and I have still had no contact with my family. I am sick from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet. I have had four surgeries on my stomach. But out of 234 survivors who came out, only 91 are still alive. I have come out with the goal of letting everyone in Peace X Peace and other organizations know about my life. I want at least one of us to receive a full apology from the Japanese government that will send a message to the current generation about what can happen in war. One of our goals is to build a museum where today’s generation can learn about the past and connect it to the future. Right now the Japanese government is not taking responsibility for its actions. Japanese school children do not learn about Korean comfort women. They need to learn this. Maybe then all the regrets and the feelings that I have will be resolved."

The fact that the government of Japan is still using weasel words to give half-hearted apologies indicates cowardice and a lack of compassion. While I cannot stand with Won in Seoul during their weekly demonstrations, I’ll be thinking of her and her sisters each Wednesday…

Relevant Links:

http://www.peacexpeace.org/Peace_X_Peace_Blogs/?p=797

http://www.womenandwar.net/english/index.php

http://www.peacexpeace.org/content/

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3480/79/

Technology, tool used by victims, abusers in domestic violence

2009-08-04T12:26:00.001-05:00

Technology, tool used by victims, abusers in domestic violence

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Confidential address programs fall short in protecting privacy

2009-08-03T10:38:00.003-05:00

Nineteen U.S. states, including California, offer confidential address programs for the ostensible purpose of protecting victims of crimes such as domestic abuse and stalking. Victims count on these programs to protect them from their abusers, but privacy protection in the Internet age has become much more difficult. Technology now enables abusers to penetrate or work around confidential address and other programs—and many abusers do so.

Read More ...Confidential address programs fall short in protecting privacy

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Healing Out Loud

2009-07-27T23:26:00.003-05:00

Penelope Trunk, discussing her child sexual abuse, on How to decide how much to tell about yourself on your blog:

So what I’m telling you here is that I’m scared of secrets. I’m more scared of keeping things a secret than I am of letting people know that I’m having trouble. People can’t believe how I’m willing to write about my life here. But what I can’t believe is how much better my life could have been if it had not been full of secrets.

So today, when I have a natural instinct to keep something a secret, I think to myself, "Why? Why don’t I want people to know?" Because if I am living an honest life, and my eyes are open, and I’m trying my hardest to be good and kind, then anything I’m doing is fine to tell people.

That’s why I can write about what I write about on this blog.

I can understand Penelope's point here. I disclosed the details of my own rape a year ago my blog. In order to heal from this secret I felt I had to set it free and in a way that prevented me from ever lying to myself again. In the end, I've heard from many people who've endured similar experiences. In trying to help myself, I ended up helping far more than I could have ever expected. Further, I wonder how different my life had been if I hadn't spent nearly twenty years in denial keeping secrets in shame.

Of course, like Penelope has experienced on her blog, I was treated to "wisdom", insults and other child-like "logic" from cowardly anonymous critics, including my own personal full-time anonymous hater who apparently has nothing better to do than obsess about me. Most negative response were just judgmental and immature individuals hiding behind the internet to say things online that they'd never say in person. The internet makes some personality types actually believe they are being brave by leaving angry and insulting messages when others disclose painful experiences in a healing manner.

Particulary disturbing was one poster who basically told Penelope that being raped as a child is no big deal compared to loss of a limb in war or a long-term illness. I always find it fascinating when people play the "others had it tougher card" as if that is some kind of ultimate wisdom that should automatically be accepted without scrutiny. I'm sorry, but is that poster really saying they have a way of measuring years of being raped and beaten as a child vs. loss of a limb and can prove one is worse then the other?

Really??????????

What is the scientific formula for such a measurement?

Or perhaps that person is okay with children being raped and thinks it is not a big deal?

As far as the whole 'women don't want men who've been abused nonsense' also being peddled in the comments – really? As a rape survivor, I beg to differ. There are plenty of compassionate and loving women out there who are not repulsed by wounded men and are willing to go the extra mile to help someone they love.

I'm sorry, but what several of Penelope's critics are doing is known as victim-shaming and it is reprehensible and unacceptable behaviour. Often it is done in self-defense in order to make their own choice about hiding similar experiences seem more palatable or the individual doing so is an abuser themselves or covering up for an abuser. Or perhaps they just want to pretend the world is sunshine and rainbows and popsicles. Either way, people who think like this are the reason why most rape and sexual abuse survivors feel ashamed of what was done to them and compelled to suffer in silence on a regular basis.

Kudos to Penelope for breaking the silence unapologetically. Anyone who doesn't like it, should thank their lucky stars they don't have to live with the flashbacks, nightmares, sexual dysfunction and other wonderful side effects of rape trauma syndrome and post-traumatic stress disorder.

It is not a competition for who has suffered the worst. It is just painful and some of us choose to heal in the open, rather than suffer in silence just so certain people can go on pretending bad things only happen to bad people and not the nice person sitting next to them.

Entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3459/79/

Spousal rape is rape! It is time for the offender to be called the rapist that he is! Spousal rape victim speaks out helps to change law in Illinois

2009-07-01T12:34:00.003-05:00

A special thank you to Regan Martin, a brave victim of spousal rape for coming forward to help shed light upon this devastating criminal epidemic that impacts millions of domestic violence victims.

Spousal rape and martial rape is RAPE!

Tragically millions of domestic violence victims are raped by their intimate partners and this aspect of advocacy has not yet been addressed well enough by the domestic violence organizations nationally for victims to feel comfortable speaking about it.

Spousal rape is a crime that most victims are ashamed of and do not want to bring up or report to advocates, law enforcement, prosecutors or their physicians.

Spousal rape is a crime that needs to be better understood by counselors, law enforcement, advocates, medical examiners and prosecutors so that more spousal rape victims will feel comfortable speaking up and more importantly be taken seriously.

Rape is rape!

If you are a victim of domestic violence or spousal rape you are not alone!

www.SurvivorsInAction.com
"No Victim Left Behind"

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A special thank you to New York Attorney Caroline Johnston Polisi, a WeNews Commentator for writing about this very important topic.

Spousal Rape Laws Continue to Evolve
Run Date: 07/01/09
By Caroline Johnston Polisi
WeNews commentator

Remnants of the "marital rape exemption" still exist in many states' laws, even though all 50 states now criminalize spousal rape. Plea bargains can also lead to more lenient sentencing. Caroline Johnston Polisi looks at how these laws have changed.

(WOMENSENEWS)--The scars on Regan Martin's wrists are a painful reminder of a past filled with violence and fear. While handcuffed behind her back, Martin's husband brutally beat and raped her, leaving her bloody, bruised and severely injured on the floor of their Crete, Ill., home.

The 2005 incident began, police reports say, after Martin refused to have sex with her husband John Samolis.

Sadly, Martin's story is not uncommon among American women. Studies indicate that between 15 and 25 percent of all married women have been victims of spousal rape and some scholars suggest that this type of rape is the most common form in our society.

Unfortunately, for survivors like Regan Martin, modern U.S. law still retains vestiges of a misogynistic past.

Creation of "Marital Rape Exemption"
The so-called "marital rape exemption" has been embedded in the sexual assault laws of our country since its founding. In its most drastic form, the exemption means that a husband, by definition, cannot legally rape his wife. The theory goes that by accepting the marital contract, a woman has tacitly consented to sexual intercourse any time her husband demands it.

The concept dates back to 18th century common law, and was articulated by English jurist Matthew Hale as follows: "The husband cannot be guilty of rape . . . for by their mutual matrimonial consent and contract, the wife [has] given up herself in this kind unto her husband, which she cannot retract."

Over 200 years later, American lawmakers were not ready to do away with the marital rape exemption, as shown by the Model Penal Code. Drafted in the 1950s, the code states that: "Marriage . . . while not amounting to a legal waiver of the woman's right to say 'no,' does imply a kind of generalized consent that distinguishes some versions of the crime of rape from parallel behavior by a husband. . . . Retaining the spousal exclusion avoids this unwarranted intrusion of the penal law into the life of the family."

States embraced the Mode Penal Code's endorsement of the marital rape exemption. In North Carolina, for example, until 1993, the penal code's definition of rape noted that a person could not be convicted of the crime of rape "if the victim is the person's legal spouse at the time of the commission of the alleged rape."

Victim's rights advocates, lawyers and politicians fought tirelessly to reverse these laws across the country.

States Begin Abolishing Exemption
In 1976, Nebraska became the first state to abolish the marital rape exemption. Other states slowly followed.

The New York case, People v. Liberta, illustrates the modern repudiation of the doctrine. In 1984, the New York State Court of Appeals finally decided that there was no basis for distinguishing between marital rape and non-marital rape. The court noted that "a marriage license should not be viewed as a license to forcibly rape [the defendant's] wife with impunity" and struck the marital exemption from the statue in question for violation of the state and federal Constitution.

Currently all 50 states criminalize spousal rape, but remnants of the marital rape exemption are still present in many states' laws. Most states, like California, for example, define spousal rape as a separate (and lesser) offense than stranger rape.

Evidently, Regan Martin's husband also believed that spousal rape should be a lesser offense. He exhibited a commonly held assumption among perpetrators of the crime: that husbands have property rights in their wives' bodies.

"He thought he had every right to do what he was doing because he was her husband," Cherry Simpson, Regan Martin's mother, told Women's eNews.

However, since Illinois law has abandoned the spousal rape exemption in cases of forcible or violent rape, Samolis was initially charged with unlawful restraint, sexual criminal assault (rape) and aggravated domestic violence.

But the case never made it to trial.

Plea Bargaining Away Charges
Plea bargains can be useful because they allow governmental prosecutors to make practical compromises in cases they believe might not prevail in court. They are also used in cases in which gathering evidence would be too costly and time consuming, saving taxpayer dollars and preserving judicial resources.

But Regan and her family believe that in cases of alleged rape, plea bargains should never be allowed.

"Rape is rape and to plea bargain it away is unacceptable. This is just an epidemic for judicial expediency," said Simpson.

Samolis accepted a plea bargain in Regan Martin's case. He agreed to plea guilty to the lesser crime of aggravated domestic violence and in return the district attorney would drop the rape and unlawful restraint charges.

The news that Samolis would not be prosecuted for the rape devastated Martin and her loved ones. Samolis ultimately served 19 months in prison for the aggravated domestic violence charge. The average time served for a rape conviction is about five years, according to a U.S. Department of Justice Study.

In response, Martin and her family are working with Illinois Congresswoman Debbie Halverson, a Democrat, to draft a bill that would prohibit prosecutors from offering plea bargains to alleged rapists.

A spokesperson for Halverson's office said the Congresswoman is "trying to figure out a legislative solution to this problem. Because of the nature of the laws involved, at this time we are not sure whether this needs to be addressed in the federal jurisdiction or state jurisdiction level."

Regardless of whether or not the bill gets passed, Regan Martin's story and her fight for the evolution of criminal sexual assault laws is a powerful reminder of how far the United States has come in terms of spousal rape jurisprudence and, perhaps, of how far we still have to go.

Caroline Johnston Polisi is an attorney in New York City. She has volunteered for Sanctuary for Family's Courtroom Advocates Project, helping victims of domestic violence obtain temporary restraining orders against abusive husbands in the Bronx and Manhattan Family Courts. The project seeks to educate victims about the legal remedies available, assist them with safety planning, help them draft petitions and advocate on their behalf before judges.

Women's eNews welcomes your comments. E-mail us at editors@womensenews.org.

One Year of Being Awake (TW)

2009-06-05T22:29:00.001-05:00

A year ago, a friend woke me up from an 18 year sleep.

We began to talk about bad drinking experiences and I told her a little about my experience with the woman who eventually raped me. I was still calling it something else then. I was still denying my pain and blaming myself.

She calmly told me, "you were raped." I took a breath and the walls started to crash in on me. Waves of panic, fear and shame competed for my attention as the realization of her words began to take root.

I was raped. Me. James. Raped. Victimized. Hurt. Those words carry so much weight and I could not acknowledge them for so long. Now I was unexpectedly forced to confront them.

My body was used without my permission. A woman took something she had no right to receive. In her wake, she left me emptier, sadder and confused.

I felt victimized. Nauseous. Powerless. Ashamed. Emasculated.

How did I not see it myself? How did I go on about my daily business for so many years as if nothing had ever happened? Why did it feel like a switch had suddenly been flipped in my brain that lit up that dark room in the corner where you hide your ugliest fears from daylight?

Well, the answer to that is that I didn't go on unaffected. I simply did not recognize how the psychological damage had been manifesting itself in my life and in my intimate relationships with women. It would take several months, tons of therapy and a lot of talking and reflection to see that picture more clearly. I'm still sharpening the focus on a daily basis and I stumble around blindly on occasion. Nearly 20 years of cluttered up denial takes a great deal of effort to clear away.

A year later, I'm less raw in some ways. I have faced down some of my demons, but there are many left to purge. As more layers of denial have been peeled away I find new things to confront, new challenges to face, and new reasons to be sad, angry or numb.

Going forward, I'm going to try to remember how far I've traveled over the last year. I'm going to ignore that mixture of shame and numbness that has been creeping into me lately, as it seems to do in unpredictable cycles. I'm going to begin my second year awake with the knowledge that I now know what happened and I've faced it as best I could with the tools at my reach.

I will keep building on the progress I've made. I'm going to stop beating myself up for feeling bad on days like today, when the anxiety, shame and sadness take turns occupying my head and heart.

I'm going to live.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3425/79/

2009-06-01T21:09:00.003-05:00

Cara of The Curvature on University of the Pacific Says Date Rape is Not Rape:

I want to point out is not why this man is an asshole, or why students definitely need to get SAFER on their campus — it’s how the general rhetoric surrounding rape upholds this man’s views. It’s why I frequently put the "date" in date rape in scare quotes. Because I believe it’s a shitty phrase.

I think that in some ways, the phrase "date rape" has indeed been useful, in the sense of getting out the idea that there’s more than one rape scenario, and it’s not all men jumping out of bushes. And I also know that some survivors, including a close friend I had once, find it comforting and prefer to use it, rather than just the term rape. And I have no interest in taking away people’s right to identify and name their experiences as they wish.

But far too many people have taken the concept that there is more than one "kind" of rape and twisted it into a hierarchy. Yet again, we’re back to the concept of "real" rape and the idea that most rapes don’t deserve the label. Now, we have two different classes popularly accepted in society — date rape and rape. Or, it could be said, date rape and real rape. After all, the "date" modifier is there for a reason.

Cara is responding to ridiculous and unnecessary comments made by Richard Rojo, a spokesman for the University as reported by Recordnet.com:

Pacific spokesman Richard Rojo said Thursday that the school does not consider the incident to be a rape.

"We would call it date rape," he said.

Rojo said the university considers "outright rape" and date rape to be different, in that date rape does not involve "a rapist jumping out of bushes and attacking people randomly."

He said, "These are people who knew each other. ... It's a social situation and unfortunately an all-too common problem at universities.

"It doesn't make it right. It's a sexual assault, and that's why the university took action in this matter."

Rojo is clearly downplaying the seriousness of the rapes by using deliberately weaker language while simultaneously trying to appear to take the matter seriously. It is a transparent and repugnant display and one the University needs to address immediately. Why is this arbitrary distinction so desired and important that Rojo felt the need to elaborate at length?

The woman who raped me did not jump out of the bushes. She used a spiked drink to subdue me, and then employed blackmail to keep me compliant once the effects of the drugged drink wore off. Given that I met her earlier in the evening, I guess that just makes it a "social situation" and not "real rape", regardless of the outcome.

Ugh. Somedays I really just hate people…

Relevant Links:

http://www.recordnet.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090529/A_NEWS/905290324/

http://thecurvature.com/2009/05/30/university-of-the-pacific-says-date-rape-is-not-rape/

Rape and Healing

2009-05-19T22:44:00.001-05:00

Cara from The Curvature on What Does It Mean to Heal?

I know that not all survivors suffer from some sort of post-traumatic stress. I cannot speak to those experiences. In fact, I cannot speak to a single experience that is not my own. But I sure as hell know that almost 11 years later, I definitely don’t feel “healed.” Better, certainly. I don’t think about being raped every day, after all. But I don’t know when I will. I don’t know if and how it will happen. Subconsciously, it also affects my relationships with regards to trust; I know this.

So healed? Healed? No. No, I am not fucking healed. And while I wouldn’t begrudge finding out someday that I’m wrong, I’ve basically accepted that “healed” is something I’m never going to be.

In short, I am okay. I have been okay for some time, and I will be okay. But I will never be the way I was pre-rape, or “get over it.” To go back to this “bruising” metaphor — you can’t see the bruises unless you look for them, and they don’t hurt in just general life. But if you press on them, fuck yeah, there’s pain.

Like Cara, I've wondered about healing too. I'm trying, but I don't see it as a destination I'll find and then be all better forever again. Am I better now than I was a year ago when the memories came back to smash me to bits? Yes. Am I healed?

No. No. No.

I have good days, where I don't see her or feel her or sense her. Then, I have days like I did yesterday when I wanted to scream, cry, put my fist through a wall and curl up in a ball all in one afternoon.

While things are improving, the end result is that I was still raped and that has deeply transformed me in ways you can see and in ways you cannot. Cara's analogy with the surgery scars was perfect. There was a change made that cannot be unmade. I will continue to get better, but there is no going back. There is no mental eraser to make it all go away.

If you find one, let me know...

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3412/79/

I'm guesting on A Book and A Chat on Sat. 3/21

2009-03-19T20:33:00.001-05:00

I'm guesting on A Book and A Chat on Sat.,3/21/09, 10 AM CST, 11 AM EST
Call-in Number: (347) 237-5398
Here's the link: http://www.blogtalkradio.com/Across-the-Pond/2009/03/21/A-BOOK-AND-A-CHAT-with-Beth-Fehlbaum

Here's the Promo the show is using:

Beth Fehlbaum’s tragic childhood was the inspiration for her first novel. Fehlbaum grew up in the Dallas area and has been teaching for 10 years. She said she began going to a therapist to help deal with childhood sexual abuse about four years ago. “I wasn’t handling my life very well. All the tricks I had used to keep from thinking about it weren’t working anymore,” she said. “I was living in a place of anxiety and fear.” Fehlbaum said her therapist suggested she write a novel. She said she wrote the book over a six-month period in 2007. “It took me four months to pull myself out of my own head and get beyond my own pain and grief to be able to tell someone else’s story,” she said in a question and answer with The Lariat Online. “But once I was able to do that, to look at the experience of sexual abuse and recovery from an observer’s standpoint, the story flowed.” Her book, “Courage in Patience,” is a fictional account of a 15-year-old girl, Ashley Nicole Asher, who is sexually abused by her stepfather. Fehlbaum said the first two chapters are about the character’s past, and the rest is about recovery.

A Fallacy of Choices

2009-01-25T22:47:00.001-06:00

Yesterday (Saturday), I had my weekly therapy appointment to deal with the mental ghosts that haunt my brain since the memories of my repressed rape returned last summer. We went a little lighter this week as last week was very difficult and I slept for several hours afterward. This time, I took about a three hour nap due to the emotional exhaustion that such therapy can cause. I had no idea that thinking and talking about an old, neglected trauma I feel on a regular basis could be so physically draining. This week we worked on acceptance of the rape as being beyond my control. We talked for a while before we worked on the EMDR portion.

For the last week, I've been thinking hard about the rape and my own coping thoughts. For a long time, I've thought that I was faced with a decision between continuing to be raped or hurting my pregnant rapist. To be more specific, I've thought the choice existed once I woke up from the effects of the drink she had spiked at the club. While I was unconscious, there was no choice as she had already been raping me. I've labored under the misconception that the choice began when I woke up. Yesterday, I was struck by an epiphany with regard to my previously perceived choices.

I did not choose between being raped or hurting her. I chose not to hurt her. That was my only decision. She chose to rape me. Why was it so hard to connect those dots? Why did I not get it? I only made one decision - not to inflict harm. The rest of the decisions were made by the woman who decided to hurt me.

Over the summer, I had spoken with a close friend about the rape. She cried and later told me that she was proud of me. She said that she loved me even more knowing that I would not hurt a pregnant woman, regardless of how much she harmed me. As much as I know she is right about my decision not to harm my rapist in my own defense, it is hard for me to feel anything but ashamed for being raped by a woman I could have easily overpowered. I'm getting over it daily, sometimes a day at a time, sometimes an hour, and on bad days - minute by minute.

My therapist told me I should be proud of myself and that I have made great progress by realizing this simple fact. I wish I could feel proud right now but I'm still a little raw and I've been ignoring my emotions since I left her office yesterday morning.

I'm just tired of beating myself up over someone else's choices. It is on days like these that disgusting vermin who shame rape survivors or deny that rape is traumatic (and yes they exist, just ask me) find easy prey among rape, sexual abuse and sexual assault survivors.

Also posted at:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3345/79/

Healing and Living

2009-01-13T02:29:00.001-06:00

Erin Merryn in Learning to survivor:

"After pouring my heart out being so open and honest in my last post I often wonder about others out there who are survivors and how they do it? What have you done in your life to continue to heal your life? How do you cope with your memories? As many know I write to continue to heal. I also speak to large audiences and do not flinch in any sort of anxiety, crowds do not scare me not even when I talk about sexual abuse. Instead they fire me up, empower me to reach those listening, knowing that at least one person in that crowd will walk away a changed person, a voice discovered, a secret to reveal."

What has helped me? Well, crying when I can no longer contain it. Journaling daily and diving into the civil liberties advocacy work I've been doing for 10 years. I find distractions and I try to leave the world a little better than I found it. I can't change the past, but I can change how I react to it.

Like Erin, I chose to break the silence on my own experience. I was publicly shamed by men who felt their manhood was threatened by admitting that a woman could hurt them. I was doubly shamed by women who wanted to make sure that other women were never exposed as predators. In a small amount, that shaming continues today. I no longer feel the need to acknowledge such disgusting and worthless individuals.

I prefer to focus on those people who contact me because they were touched by my story, or have a brother, boyfriend or husband suffering in silence. They are worth my time. They are the reason I speak out and they are the reason I refuse to shut my mouth. The shamers have nothing to offer but hatred, immature behaviour and gender-based stereotypes and bigotries. I have no use for such empty souls.

Nearly 20 years down the road after so much silence and denial, I realize that she hurt me at a level I never comprehended until lately. That hurt will not last forever - at least not at the level it is today. While I will always carry some of this pain around and the healing will be a lifelong project, it will lessen with effort and I will learn to be happy again. I choose to survive and work toward learning how to thrive. I'm not there yet, but I'll get there eventually. In the meantime, if I can help someone else along the way then I'll consider the time well spent.

Relevant Links:

Erin Merryn: http://erin-merryn.blogspot.com/2009/01/learning-to-survivor.html

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3335/79/

The Theme of Hope (Review of Courage in Patience)

2008-12-31T16:48:00.000-06:00

The Theme of Hope, December 31, 2008
By Grady Harp (Los Angeles, CA United States) - See all my reviews

Beth Fehlbaum's first novel COURAGE IN PATIENCE reads more like a memoir from a caregiver (who in this book happens to match Fehlbaum's full time career as an English teacher) than a fierce diatribe against abuse - and that is what makes this very well written book so readable. Child abuse - 'child' including the years from birth to adulthood - is a major problem in this country, and indeed around the world: the media barrages us daily with third world country tales of child labor in all manner of 'work' in addition to the external abuse inflicted on children whose parents are removed by war and bloodshed. And while Fehlbaum concentrates on sexual abuse of the central character Ashley by her stepfather and the 'blind eye' abuse by her mother, she manages to share all manner of abusive practices that bring light to issues we all may be ignoring - racial, prejudice, homophobia, physical deformities, etc.

Fehlbaum understands how to build a story well - her introduction of the central character Ashley Asher begins with enough humor and gentleness to make us care for a young girl in dire circumstances. The story of the novel is well described elsewhere - secretive sexual abuse, confrontation, alienation, sources of solace and protection and the tremendously important role teachers can play as the watchdog and supportive arm for young abused children. For this reader the story reads best in the portion of the book devoted to peer community assistance as focused on the little town of Patience, Texas. It is here that the novel rises above the usual tale of the abused child and enters the realm of finding support through sharing the various kinds of child abuse among groups of friends. If the novel becomes a bit preachy at the end - an attempt to focus the message of the book that by the time of the conclusion has already been clarified - the rest of the book more than makes up for this flaw. Fehlbaum knows the language of the various youngsters and writes credibly in their conversations, a fact that makes this book more sensitive than many on the subject.

COURAGE IN PATIENCE is a fine read and an excellent resource for those who are undergoing abuse or are still recovering from the scars of the many forms of abuse the book addresses. Spread the word: Beth Fehlbaum has added to the library of novels with a helpful message. Grady Harp, December 08

The Significant Impact of What's Her Name

2008-12-31T02:37:00.000-06:00

Yesterday afternoon I saw the film "The Curious Case of Benjamin Button" inspired by the short story of the same name authored by F. Scott Fitzgerald (http://www.online-literature.com/fitzgerald/jazz-age/6/). This caused me a bit of an epiphany as I sat in the theatre.

The moment that really clicked in my brain was when Button (as read by his daughter in his diary) said that sometimes the people who have the most significant impacts on our lives are those we don't remember well - as he unsuccessfully attempted to remember the name of an elderly friend and mentor. I can think of several of these people in my own life who significantly impacted my life in positive and negative ways.

One such person did impact my life due to a chance encounter that I could have never predicted. I don't remember her name. I can't see her face. I vaguely recall her stature and hair. Yet, she changed me in ways I still do not fully understand.

She made me doubt my trusting nature. She gave me insecurities and fears that I am still fighting to overcome. She has also taught me that I am much stronger than I could have ever imagined. Her callous act contributed greatly to the man I am today. I am not saying it was worth it - not at all. I would rather have learned more about myself in a different manner.

She was not memorable. However, her choices that night have left a lasting impact. She manipulated me. She drugged me. She raped me. She hurt me. She has forever changed me. However, she does not own me.

And I can barely remember her...

Also posted here:

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3323/79/

Growing Home For the Holidays

2008-12-26T21:39:00.001-06:00

Growing Home For the Holidays

“There is no terror, Cassius, in your threats: For I am arm'd so strong in honesty That they pass me by as the idle wind, Which I respect not”
--Shakespeare
December 24, 2004, I Fed-Exed a letter to my abuser, asking him to please stop making comments about my body. I was 38 years old, 100+ pounds overweight, with an out-of-control binge-eating disorder being the most obvious sign of my distress. The armor of fat with which I had coated my body was nothing, compared to the problems inside my head. Simply put, the life I had with my husband and three daughters was in peril because I had been playing "Let's Pretend," as in, "Let's Pretend That I Was Not Sexually Abused Throughout My Childhood"-- and the tricks I had used to cope weren't working any more. I was on my way to CrazyTown, and I was taking four other people with me. Something had to give. It was to the point that I had no choice but to choose another way, and that way was honesty --with myself and everyone around me.

The first step to dealing with reality, at least the first step that involved my extended family, was the letter that set the first boundary I had ever had with the man who crept into my childhood bedroom at night for years, and who felt entitled to comment on my body even as I was nearing age 40.The consequences of the letter were immediate. My husband, children, and I followed through on the planned Christmas Eve visit to my abuser's home. I know: crazy, right? I was so naïve that I thought that he would understand my request and do as I asked. Instead, I discovered my abuser hiding in his bedroom, his wife not speaking to me, and other family members clearly unhappy with what I had done. Subsequent communications with his wife made clear that she was unwilling to discuss, in any way, shape, or form, what had happened to me. It did not matter that my life was falling apart because of it. According to her, it was all my problem. Period.

I spiraled into such a depressed state of mind that my husband did not allow me to drive, for fear that I would follow through with the idea of plowing my car into a bridge column. The suicidal feelings that surface in the face of rejection are still my demons, but they have lessened dramatically over the past four years. The things that have saved me from self-destructing are the love of my husband and daughters, a kick-ass therapist, hope that pain will go away, hatred of that which is wrong, and resilience~perseverance that are fueled by my family's love, my therapist's guidance, and infinite hope for healing.

I suppose the feelings I have at Christmas now are akin to what I would experience if my abuser's wife died four years ago-- it's like an annual reminder of what I have lost. I loved her so much. I love her so much. I love the person I thought she was. It is the juxtaposition of who I thought she was, and the person she has been in the face of the truth I have to live in my recovery, that is hardest on my heart. December 24, 2004, was like being thrown into an icy lake. I am still trying to catch my breath from the shock. I don't know that I ever will, but I sure am trying.

As a child, I loved the holidays like nobody else. I started playing Christmas music in August. I decorated my dollhouse elaborately, and the family residing there not only understood my holiday lust, they embraced it. They didn't have a choice. I created in that miniature world what I craved in my own reality.

The holidays following 2004, however, marked the advent of something I had never experienced: dread of the holiday season. I wished I could just skip November and December completely: just go to sleep around Halloween and wake in time to go back to living on January 2nd of the new year.

I never shared those feelings with my children, though, because I felt a responsibility to provide the same sort of Christmas that they had always known, complete with elaborately decorating our house. I did the best I could. My mind was shit and I inevitably descended into a sort of spacey, emotional state that lasted about a week or so. But my family was very supportive and understanding. It was not easy for any of us. It still isn't.

The stockings were hung on the corner cupboard with care, just as always, but some things changed forever from the holidays of the past. For one, no more Christmas cookies or baking marathons. Facing the truth about my eating disorder meant the end of baking,decorating, and pigging out on sugar cookies. I no longer churned out baked goods with the intensity of a professional bakery, and I no longer numbed my feelings with sugar and lard.

The biggest change, though, was where we celebrated and who we celebrated with. All my life, and all of my children's lives, we had spent Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve at my abuser's house. Things were great, do you get that? Things were great and the holidays were magical, as long as I didn't face the truth and I didn't ask any of the people who were there when I was growing up to face it, either. It was when I set a boundary that things blew apart. That was not allowed. When I did that, I lost the person I thought of as my best friend: my abuser's wife. I thought of her as a person who was always there for me. There are days that I still can't believe our relationship is what it is, now: non-existent.

I look back at who I was then and I know without a doubt that there is no way, NO WAY that I can ever go back and be that person again. Beth, circa 2004 and before, the one who kept silent and smiled and played the game of "Let's Pretend," is dead. I don't even know her any more. Likewise, my own extended family does not know me-- the person bent on recovery from childhood sexual abuse; the person dedicated to living as authentic a life as humanly possible; the person still trying to catch her breath from the plunge into the icy lake of Christmas 2004. They knew a pretender, and the pretender is dead.

I thought about writing this piece for the past several days as I prepared for Christmas 2008. I was struck by the difference in my little family's life, when comparing 2008 to 2004.

I cooked my first full-blown Thanksgiving dinner, this past Thanksgiving. My family and I made the decision that we would stay home this year, rather than putting out feelers to my mother-in-law or my husband's brother and his wife, to see what they were doing for the day. For the first time since 2004, our little family knew that we were "enough" for each other, and my mind has healed enough that I was able to do the sort of mental gymnastics required to pull off something like Thanksgiving dinner.

It is only in undertaking holiday family dinners 100% on my own that I have an understanding of the work that goes into them. My abuser's wife always made it look so effortless-- and, if we still had a relationship, I think I would ask her how she managed to do that.

I am motivated by love for my family, of wanting them to have the best possible experience. I think she was motivated by the same thing. But I do not understand how that kind of love exists in tandem with the sort that demands secrets and the sacrifice of my innocence and right to my own body, to not having it taken by someone else. I do not understand the coexistence of love with deliberate indifference. I do not "get" how I ceased to matter and it leads me to believe that in fact I never really did, to her. It makes me wonder too, how it is that someone who is so gracious a hostess to everyone can be so conditional with her love for me.

Christmas Eve, I cooked my very first Christmas dinner. My youngest daughter came up with a family Sweet Potato Casserole recipe, and I found my grandmother's Cornbread Dressing recipe in a stack of recipes and cookbooks I inherited from her. I avoided looking through them before, because it hurt so much to think of her and the holidays. But I have healed enough now that I am able to do things like look through her recipes and see her handwriting, without it undoing me completely. The sweet potatoes and my grandmother's dressing were the two entrees my children had missed the most, in the years since we lost the relationship with my extended family. I searched the Internet high and low for a recipe that seeemed close to the traditional Butterhorn Rolls. Didn't find the exact one, but the one I did find, my children said was even better than the family recipe. We invited my brother and his wife. Their attendance at our table was beautiful not only because they were there, but because he and I were estranged for many years and are now closer than we have ever been in our lives. It was the first time since we reconciled three years ago that we have gone through an entire visit without really talking about the painful journey we endured to reach today. We have an appreciation for one another that was distinctly lacking when we were growing up.

Yesterday, Christmas Day, we hosted my husband's family: 18 people in all. We had people seated all over the place and I fell asleep sitting up in bed last night, but we did it. At the end of the night, my husband said, "Thank you for hosting such a fun evening." He says that I get better at preparing the traditional foods every time I make them, which gives me hope for next year, when I will be brave enough to actually attempt stuffing the turkey and trying [sigh] again to make gravy. So far, pan gravy eludes me. Thank God for the stuff that comes in a jar.I look back at what I have lost, and I look at what I now have-- and even though it's been a walk through hell --and it ain't over yet-- I can see a day in the future when the ache in my chest isn't quite as sharp as it still is today. I have hope, and I have home. I AM home. And that is more than enough for me.

Win a free signed copy of Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse

2008-12-13T06:08:00.002-06:00

E-mail me your favorite story of someone you know showing courage. The deadline is Saturday, Dec. 20. I'll choose the top five stories and they will be posted on my blogspot, http://courageinpatience.blogs... AND if I choose your story as one of the top five, I'll send you a signed copy of Courage in Patience, in time for Christmas! (United States only guaranteed arrival in time for Christmas).

Check out Courage in Patience by visiting my site, http://courageinpatience.blogspot.com Ch. 1 is online!Beth Fehlbaum, author

2008-12-03T18:12:00.002-06:00

Fresh Fiction Review of Courage in Patience

From: http://freshfiction.com/dev/review.php?id=22334
Ashley Asher had a father she never knew, but a stepfather she wished she didn't know! Her mom loved her new husband to the point that she denied his emotional and sexual abuse upon her own daughter. Not unusual, just very sad!

Left in desperation and guilt, Ashley found a confidant in her teacher. As by law, her teacher reported the abuse. Let the healing begin!

Ashley was reunited with her father and a stepmother who had the courage to defend not only her new daughter but a whole classroom of students who struggled with real life issues. A remarkable woman in her own right, she too had suffered in life, making her the perfect role model to peak discussions and trust in the classroom.

It was the perfect setting for the healing process to take place on so many levels, but when the parents found out that their little town was inundated with real life, they wanted to sweep it under the rug, and would stop only short of a mob lynching.

Real and poignant, COURAGE IN PATIENCE takes a stand on injustices and abuse of every nature. No one is safe from life and this beautifully written book addresses it with honesty and the kind of consideration worthy of intense discussion and thought. In her writing, Ms. Fehlbaum addresses the issues with realness and optimism refusing to deny the actual possibilities of abuse and its consequences, at the same time giving hope to the victims of such crimes.

A book that will etch its words on the reader's heart and mind. Amazing!!!

Women's Advocacy Site Reviews Courage in Patience

2008-11-29T17:37:00.001-06:00

Dorothy L., creator of the site, Women's Self-Esteem (http://www.womensselfesteem.com/), wrote a review of Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse.
I will be chatting with readers on Sunday, December 7, at 7 p.m. Eastern time. Please be sure to join me at http://www.womensselfesteem.com/chat.html
Here's Dorothy's review… and, I'd like to thank Dorothy for the valuable contribution her site makes to women's health. Thanks, Dorothy!

Have you ever felt like an abused wild animal trapped in a cage with just enough room to pace back and forth, all the while just patiently waiting for that one second to break free and run?
Courage In Patience will make you feel just like that as you read the revealing and somewhat offensive story of Ashley Asher. This young girl lived a life as a victim of abuse not only by her stepfather but also through her own mother's inability to take a stand for what is right and what is wrong.
Through Ashley's Journey of hope and survival you will also witness the unveiling of several other more silent & subtle forms of abuse, such as hypocrisy, racism, small town mentality, tainted christian morals and even deliberate ignorance.
Not only does the author Beth Fehlbaum do an exceptional job of expressing how a kind heart, a true love and respect can penetrate any barrier of negativity, she chooses a word in her title that spells survival in a different way.."Courage". Without courage to move forward, Ashley would have never been able to break free of the cage of abuse she was forced into!
Womensselfesteem.com highly recommends: Courage in Patience as a true story of hope and strength. The purpose of this book is to also teach and inspire all victims of abuse toward the understanding that abuse is not acceptable and it is something you can stop!
Beth Fehlbaum had the Courage to share with her readers the most intimate, private, horrific experiences of her life in hopes that her words can save even one victim.
Do you have the Courage to read her book and move forward in turn?

Interesting Discussion at JREF

2008-11-26T10:26:00.003-06:00

When I told my story online about a rape I endured many years ago, I knew it would periodically spark debate and discussion threads at various places on the 'net. After 11 years as an activist and online publisher, I've gotten used to that concept. So, as I monitor my site activity reports weekly (like most site owners) for interesting incoming links, I usually click back and given them a quick read.

Over the last few days, a new forum poll on sexual assault at the James Randi Educational Foundation (JREF) has morphed into a discussion of female on male rape. Interestingly enough, the person who started the thread is a woman who fought off a rapist, but is now calling into question the possibility of a woman raping a man.

(sigh) Here we go again with the pre-conceived notions, sexist ideas and ridiculous bigotry attached to genitalia. She goes down the old, worn path of repeating the oft circulated myths that an erection = consent, that women can't orgasm during a rape, etc. Blah, blah, blah, myth, myth, myth, lie, lie, lie...

Fortunately and surprisingly, the vast majority of the posters on that thread are not letting her get away with it, contrary to the norm when an "authoritative" female voice decides that she knows everything about male biology. Sorry if I sound a little bitter, but this ridiculous nonsense gets old fast.

I've not weighed in on the thread and I'm not going to either. I don't need that aggravation in my life after dealing with so many knuckle-dragging morons at Pajamas Media in July. I did read the thread at JREF from beginning to end and I'm pleasantly surprised to see how many people actually "get it" and can discuss this topic without the childishness that seemed systemic at Pajamas Media. Surprisingly, at least one other man came out with his story of being raped by a woman, another who endured CSA by his mother, in addition to several women and another man who talked of being raped by a male attacker.

If you want to read it (very strong trigger warning), the link is here:

http://forums.randi.org/showthread.php?t=129384

While I am thankful that telling my story is changing some minds and sparking a healthy debate, I'm still wracked with the familiar muscle tension in my arms after reading the thread. I assume that will get easier with time...

An Attitude of Gratitude: Happy Thanksgiving!

2008-11-26T04:36:00.003-06:00

Thanksgiving is tomorrow, and I'm not sure if it's my "To-Do" list that has catapulted me from my bed at three a.m., or my writing muse. There's a half-empty can of Diet Coke on my kitchen table, and my iPod shuffle is playing a mix of Chuck Pyle, Bachman Turner Overdrive, The Foo Fighters, Three Dog Night, Rilo Kiley, and Shawn Colvin*. A jug of Murphy's Oil Soap is right next to my laptop and I started a load of laundry, but I'm not holding a dust rag in my hand and my house doesn't smell all fresh and lemony yet, so I'm going to chalk this up to an early morning rendezvous with my writing muse, rather than the good-kind-of-pressure I feel from the list of things I need to accomplish before all three of my daughters, my husband's family, and some friends converge upon our home for Thanksgiving.
I spent many nights at this table during the winter and spring of 2007 when I wrote my first novel, Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse, and perfecting the conditions (see list*, above) necessary for accessing the story of Ashley Nicole Asher, age 15, who finally gets up the nerve to face the truth about her life and in the process finds out what it means to be free. It's a theme that, prior to entering therapy four years ago to deal with stuff that happened to me when I was a child, was foreign to me. It's like I didn’t realize how lost I was until I started to get found.
When I first entered therapy, my psychologist (who is awesome, by the way) told me that the road I was embarking on would be like a barefoot journey from Texas to Alaska and back, with all the weather along the way. There have been times I have been convinced that the easiest thing to do would be just to give up, step in front of an eighteen-wheeler, and welcome the relief it would be to find out what roadkill feels: NOTHING. Vultures, schmultures, right? These are very common feelings for people who are working on recovery from childhood sexual abuse. But, like the Tom Russell song says, "It goes away."
On this day before Thanksgiving, words fail me when I try to describe how grateful I am to have an amazing support system in my husband, three daughters, and therapist. Even when I wanted to lay down and die, these five people are the biggest reason that I kept going even when learning to be an authentic person and refusing to lie to myself any more hurt like hell. I'm past those feelings now, and I thank God for blessing me with people who loved me through the darkest days. Sometimes that love was (and is) the tough kind of love, the kind that let me know that even though I didn't see myself as a strong person yet, they DID. They DO. And now I do, too.
I am a teacher as well as a writer. I know that a lot of the time, the only time you hear about teachers is on the news when they do despicable things or their school district (cough- cough Dallas ISD) mishandles its money and has to lay off a bunch of hard-working innocent people who poured themselves into their vocation every day and trusted their administration to do its job. But here's some news from a teacher that you may not hear enough: I LOVE MY JOB. Standardized testing and the minor imperfections of my vocation aside, I LOVE MY JOB. It nurtures the most fundamental parts of who I am as a person.
It's the dog-days of school before the Christmas holidays, and I can guarantee you that I'm not the only teacher with the count-down posted on the board and updated daily. But I don't mind going to work, and I recognize that that's not something that all people can say. I get up every day and I get to go work with amazing people. My partner teacher and I, in addition to working well together, genuinely like each other, and that is a blessing. We are in sync with our approach to our students and we support each other. I have worked in situations before when I witnessed team members at each others' throats. But I've been very lucky. The faculty and staff at my school are all about the kids and teamwork, and, on top of that, we have fun at work. What more could I ask for?
Every day I am privileged to work with children who I love as if they were my own. My students are people who, just by being themselves, allow me to see the world through their eyes and to want to make this world a better place by helping them reach for the stars, regardless of where they are coming from. I am passionate about social justice because it MATTERS, both on the microcosm of the playground and as we see it unfold on the world stage, when a child born into a mixed-race marriage and raised by a single mother can achieve the highest office in a country-- and, under his leadership, I have no doubt that the United States will once again be respected in the international community. A wise person once told me that hope is the opposite of fear. My students and their parents have hope for the future. Our country chose hope. And I do, too.
On this day before Thanksgiving, I am grateful that hope exists. If I didn't believe in the power of hope, I would have, sometime during these past four years, chosen the roadkill option.
I am thankful for my support system. I am thankful for the rough patches on my journey to recovery, because those dark places have made the light that I'm going toward even brighter. And, on this, the day before Thanksgiving, I am grateful that I can now get to work, preparing for a celebration of gratitude by cleaning a wonderful home that my husband designed, that our family built on his family's land, in beautiful East Texas, in the United States of America. Happy Thanksgiving, everybody!

Inspiring Letter from a Survivor

2008-11-19T21:13:00.001-06:00

As long-time readers know, I am a rape survivor and only recently began to work on healing from that long ago trauma that I had repressed for nearly two decades. In late June, I told my story publicly online in the hopes that it would help me heal and possibly assist another person who had not yet found their voice.

Today, I received an email from a female rape survivor that I wanted to share with my readers:

"Hi, you don't know me but after reading your story and learning a bit more about you I wanted to know how brave and inspiring I think you are. As a female survivor I've only just started to tell people who don't have to know after 6 years. I know how hard that's been for me and I know how much ignorant people can add to pain with their wrong and often stupid opinions. I can only guess that a male survivor feels the same things a female one does and then some more because of social ignorance. I think you have shown extreme strength in sharing your story with the whole world. You are helping to raise awareness in a much denied area. You story will help survivors (male and female) everywhere,it will also help the loved ones of survivors understand that these things don't always happen how people expect. I am greatly moved by your actions,if you can be brave enough to tell the world then maybe I can be a little braver in my daily life. I had lots of issues with naming my rape,but I doubt I had as many as you. I also had to deal with doubt and the judgement of uninformed idiots,I imagine this has been more so for you. I think you are a very strong and brave person. I think you are an inspiration. I hope one day I can be as brave as you and do something to help raise awareness of this disgusting crime (I need to get a lot stronger first!). You are an amazing survivor and I wish you well on your healing journey."

On the days when I feel violated all over again and just want to scream at the top of my lungs at the inhumanity of worthless, victim-blaming rape apologists and enablers, I get a message like the one above.

And it makes my day. This is why I told my story publicly. This is why I endured the shamers, emasculators and apologists. This is why I will not cower in silence any more.

My correspondent has no idea how much her message means to me. When I spoke out, I was speaking for me. I was speaking for her. I was speaking for hundreds of thousands of silent survivors who have not yet found their voice.

And after 18 years of silence, I refuse to shut up for anyone anymore...

Also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3293/79/

Recap: Our Love Should Not Hurt

2008-11-06T23:17:00.000-06:00

Yesterday, I participated in a panel discussion on domestic violence and sexual assault. The event, titled "Our Love Should Not Hurt" was sponsored by the Alpha Chapters of Zeta Phi Beta Sorority and Phi Beta Sigma Fraternity at Howard University in Washington, DC. About 75 or so Howard University students were in the audience. Quite a few secondary survivors were there for their friends or significant others. About 1/3 of the audience was male. There were 5 female panelists and 1 male (me). Domestic violence was the first topic and I was happy to see it covered quite well to even include violence perpetrated by women against men and also verbal abuse. Several of the male students were very interested in the verbal abuse portion of the discussion. Been there, done that...

One young woman spoke about her friend who had emailed her about an attack she had endured several years prior. The survivor asked her friend not to ask her about the email or even acknowledge it in person in any manner. She just wanted her to know it had happened. The young woman broke down in tears several times while asking the panel how she can help her friend. I got a few minutes to speak to her after the event. She thanked me for speaking out. I thanked her for believing her friend. That part is so important - the believing. So many people are so willing to assume that someone they know would lie about being raped.

One of the questions was directed at me with regard to how a man would know if he had been raped. I told my story - the Cliff's Notes version - as part of the answer. I was not prepared for the audible gasps from both the audience and other panelists. I've gotten used to the idea of a female rapist as it happened to me, but I forget that it is not what people expect when they hear from a male rape survivor. They expect the rapist to be another male.

I was extremely nervous as this was the first time I spoke publicly about the rape. Everyone was supportive and after I was particularly touched by the kindness one of the other RAINN speakers showed me. This was surprisingly therapeutic (while simultaneously draining emotionally) and I look forward to working with RAINN on future outreach efforts.

Also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3273/79/

Texas Teacher Admits She Drew on Personal Experience of Childhood Sexual Abuse to Pen Courageous Novel. "It's High Time I Stop Hiding," Author Says

2008-10-19T13:33:00.003-05:00

(Press Release, Oct. 20, 2008): Beth Fehlbaum, a long-time English teacher, drew on her experiences as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse to craft her debut novel, Courage in Patience, which released September 1, 2008, from Kunati, Inc.. Kunati was ForeWord Magazine's 2007 Independent Publisher of the Year.

Courage in Patience is the story of fifteen-year-old Ashley Nicole Asher, who is sexually, emotionally, and physically abused by her stepfather, from the age of nine. When she at last tells a trusted teacher what has been happening to her, Child Protective Services steps in and Ashley is removed from her mother's home then reunited with her biological father, who has not been a part of Ashley's life since infancy. Through the summer school English class taught by her stepmother, Ashley learns to face her greatest fears and, along with other teens, discovers just how strong she is.

"It is important to me that I identify myself as a survivor of sexual abuse, because I want others who may have suffered at the hands of another person to know that they are not alone, and that that there is hope for recovery," Fehlbaum said. "People who are sexually abused experience every inch of their lives as covered in shame. And the message I have for them is, 'The shame does not belong to you. It belongs to the person who stole your innocence.' "

Initially, Beth Fehlbaum did not openly identify herself as having what she calls 'the life experience' to write a book like Courage in Patience. Instead, she attributed her knowledge of what it is like to be sexually abused, to working with abused children over the years in her capacity as a teacher. "I realize now that that was just more hiding-- and, to tell you the truth, I don't want to hide anymore. I've spent enough of my life in small, dark, places, and the time has come for that to end."

Childhood Sexual Abuse is all too common. According to statistics from Darkness2Light.org,
"The statistics are shocking
• 1 in 4 girls is sexually abused before the age of 18. (96)
• 1 in 6 boys is sexually abused before the age of 18. (96)
• 1 in 5 children are solicited sexually while on the internet. (30, 87)
• Nearly 70% of all reported sexual assaults (including assaults on adults) occur to children ages 17 and under. (76)
• An estimated 39 million survivors of childhood sexual abuse exist in America today. (1)
Even within the walls of their own homes, children are at risk for sexual abuse
• 30-40% of victims are abused by a family member. (2, 44, 76)
• Another 50% are abused by someone outside of the family whom they know and trust.
• Approximately 40% are abused by older or larger children whom they know. (1, 44)
• Therefore, only 10% are abused by strangers.
Sexual abuse can occur at all ages, probably younger than you think
• The median age for reported abuse is 9 years old. (64)
• More than 20% of children are sexually abused before the age of 8. (76)
• Nearly 50% of all victims of forcible sodomy, sexual assault with an object, and forcible fondling are children under 12. (74, 76)
Most children don't tell even if they have been asked
• Evidence that a child has been sexually abused is not always obvious, and many children do not report that they have been abused.
• Over 30% of victims never disclose the experience to ANYONE.
• Young victims may not recognize their victimization as sexual abuse.
• Almost 80% initially deny abuse or are tentative in disclosing. Of those who do disclose, approximately 75% disclose accidentally. Additionally, of those who do disclose, more than 20% eventually recant even though the abuse occurred.
• Fabricated sexual abuse reports constitute only 1% to 4% of all reported cases. Of these reports, 75% are falsely reported by adults and 25% are reported by children. Children only fabricate ½% of the time.
Consequences of child sexual abuse begin affecting children and families immediately. They also affect society in innumerable and negative ways. These effects can continue throughout the life of the survivor so the impact on society for just one survivor continues over multiple decades. Try to imagine the impact of 39 million survivors."
Health and/or Behavioral Problems:
• The way a victim's family responds to abuse plays an important role in how the incident affects the victim.
• Sexually abused children who keep it a secret or who "tell" and are not believed are at greater risk than the general population for psychological, emotional, social, and physical problems often lasting into adulthood.
• Children who have been victims of sexual abuse are more likely to experience physical health problems (e.g., headaches).
• Victims of child sexual abuse report more symptoms of PTSD, more sadness, and more school problems than non-victims. (10, 16, 55, 72)
• Victims of child sexual abuse are more likely to experience major depressive disorder as adults. (55, 72)
• Young girls who are sexually abused are more likely to develop eating disorders as adolescents. (16, 40, 89)
• Adolescent victims of violent crime have difficulty in the transition to adulthood, are more likely to suffer financial failure and physical injury, and are at risk to fail in other areas due to problem behaviors and outcomes of the victimization.

Fehlbaum says her decision to go public came about because of a realization: "Courage in Patience is about courage. It is not 'an abuse story'-- it is a survival story, as evidenced by the bravery shown by all the teenagers in the story who face life-changing events head-on. A huge part of Ashley's ability to begin to heal comes from her witnessing acts of profound courage, all around her."

The following dates remain in her extended tour:
October 25: Barnes and Noble, 4916 S. Broadway, Tyler, Texas
November 1: Barnes and Noble, 18030 Hwy. 281 North, San Antonio, Texas
November 8: Borders, Preston @ Royal, Dallas, Texas
November 15: Hastings, 2404 Texas Ave. South, College Station, Texas
November 22: Barnes and Noble, 2415 Soncy Road, Amarillo, Texas
November 29: Hastings, 2200 E. Veterans Memorial, Killeen, Texas
January 10: Barnes and Noble, 4100 Deer Creek, Highland Village, Texas
January 31: Barnes and Noble, 5129 Blanche Moore Drive, Corpus Christi, Texas

Chapter One, Courage in Patience, by Beth Fehlbaum

2008-10-13T20:07:00.001-05:00

(c) Beth Fehlbaum, 2008

CHAPTER ONE
We go on—because it is the hard thing to do.
And we owe ourselves the difficulty.
Nikki Giovanni

My name is Ashley Asher. That’s right, go ahead, and laugh. Apparently, my parents thought it would be “cute” to make my first and last names nearly identical. My family and friends call me Ash. My mother calls me by my first and middle names, Ashley Nicole. Her husband, Charlie, thought he was real clever and called me Ash-Hole.
I’m fifteen years old, and I live in Patience, Texas, an East Texas town of about 3,000 people. In my wildest dreams, I never thought I would end up going to a school where the unofficial year-round footwear is flip-flops, and people pronounce the word cold like this: code.
Sometimes I think I miss living in a place where there are things to do on Friday nights besides cruise the aisles of the Wal-Mart in Six Shooter City (yes, that's the name of a real place), or see one of the two movies showing in Cedar Points. There’s even less to do in Patience, although pasture parties, where a bunch of underage, redneck, high-school kids bring illegally obtained beer to somebody’s pasture and see how shit-faced and stupid they can get before they run out of beer, are a common occurrence.
If I’m going to be completely honest, though, I'd have to say that I've been alone for so much of my life, I wouldn't know what to do if I suddenly had a social life. I’m a quiet person who loves to read and write more than anything in the world. There’s just something special about falling into worlds created by other people. I spent a lot of time pretending that I was somewhere else when I was still living at home, I mean with my mom, and I think that helps me write stories, too.
My dad. Sounds so funny coming from my mouth, because I never knew him until last summer. He and my mom split up when I was three months old and, except for child support checks and sporadic birthday cards, I never heard from him.
The way my mom tells it, my dad was always a loser, which leads to a natural question: why would she sleep with him if she knew that? He was one year ahead of her in school, but they may as well have lived on different planets. She was a cheerleader, honor student, daughter of a doctor and accountant, and ran with the popular kids.
He didn’t know his bio father, but he had a succession of stepfathers through his life. My mother, the Queen of Bad Decisions, says my dad's mom had terrible taste in men. I guess she would know about such things.
Dad excelled in auto mechanics, computer science, getting wasted on weekends, and talking girls into doing his English homework. Mom used to tell me that he had this way of charming a girl to get what he wanted, whether it was an essay on A Tale of Two Cities or her panties ending up on the floor. Since my dad never knew his father, his older brother, Frank, was always more like a father to my dad than a brother. Frank is ten years older than Dad, but he seems a lot older than that.
There is only one picture of my father and mother together, and it is from his senior prom. He is tall, dark, and gangly in his navy tux. His dark brown hair is puffy, and he's wearing aviator-frame eyeglasses. Mom is over a foot shorter than Dad, although her highlighted, permed hair is a good eight inches high. Otherwise, standing next to him she is tiny. Even though the picture was taken from at least ten feet away, her eye shadow is a frosty silver that makes her green eyes gleam. Her face is rounder than it is now, and she looks like she has been laughing, smiling in a way that I never saw very often. As much as she hates my dad, she used to say that he could always make her laugh. Must be part of his charm.
Her dress is snow-white satin, off the shoulder, and she tells me she tanned for weeks so she would look really brown in contrast to the stark white of her gown. Looking like a bride must have done something to her judgment, because they treated prom night as if it was their honeymoon, and, surprise! I was conceived. Mom’s parents, Nanny and Papaw, were horrified—not only because she got knocked up, but at the type of guy who did the knocking up. My dad never has fit in with the country club set. Papaw, an OB-GYN, set up my mom with a friend of his to give her an abortion.
When Mom told Dad what Papaw had arranged, my dad hit the ceiling and said that nobody was gonna kill his kid. He talked my mom into running off with him, and a preacher married them in Patience, Texas, where Uncle Frank lived on land that has been in their family for generations. Sometimes I wonder if my mom wishes she had kept that appointment with Papaw’s friend.
They lived in a camping trailer behind Frank’s house while my mom attended her senior year at Patience High School, and my dad went to work as a mechanic in Frank’s shop. Mom says they fought all the time, because my dad had a terrible temper. He would fly into rages where he would only feel better after he had destroyed something, like when he threw their tiny black-and-white TV out the camper door into the mud then went after it with a sledgehammer. After he had his tantrum, he would go sit in the shop with
Frank and drink until he thought my mom was asleep.
I was born in January of my mom’s senior year. School was out for Spring Break when Mom packed me and all her stuff up in the car my dad gave her for Christmas—a dented up, brown four-door Datsun. We headed back west on Highway 175 to La Salle, Texas, back to the two-story red-brick house in a fancy part of town that Mom grew up in. Back to a bedroom that, unlike her bunk in the trailer, was lacking in field mice nesting in her shoes and the snake that shed its skin around her hot rollers. Nanny and Papaw welcomed back Mom with open arms, praised her for her return to sanity and civilization, and donated her old Datsun to Goodwill before she'd been home for twenty-four hours.
My dad never came after her, never questioned her leaving. Papaw’s golf buddy, a divorce attorney, took care of all the paperwork to annul the marriage, which means that legally the marriage never took place, so I don’t know what that makes me. They sent the papers to Dad, and he signed off on everything, including paying support to the child born to their non-existent marriage.
Mom finished her high school studies through a correspondence program and attended community college, earning her medical assistant certification. Then she went to work in Papaw’s office, and we did okay for ourselves. She even bought a small house in an old neighborhood in the center of La Salle, and my days there were carefree. When we got home in the afternoons, I’d go play outside, and my mom hired teenagers to watch me during the summer, so I had the Kool-Aid commercial-type summer, where kids play outside all day then come in at night when the streetlights come on.
My life changed forever on the night my mom met Charlie Baker. Nobody in Mom’s Third Thursday Bunco group thought he’d ever go for someone like her—no longer high school cute, a little overweight with a big caboose, and saddled with a kid. Mom’s friend Neshia was dating a guy who worked highway construction. His friend Charlie had just been transferred in from West Texas. Charlie was six feet tall, with a very short haircut and a shy, closed-mouth smile. He has six-pack abs in one of the pictures I have seen of him from that time. In it, he is wearing a red-and-white-striped Speedo, and he's posing like a model.
The guy in the peppermint stripes looked nothing like the Charlie I came to know: the pot-bellied alcoholic madman with wild auburn hair, almost clear gray eyes, and a shiny gold front tooth. Charlie’s appearance is off-putting to people who don’t know him. His long bushy hair seems to have a mind of its own, like Medusa’s hair of snakes. When Charlie is pissed, he radiates hatred, and it is scary. When Charlie chases you down with the intent to tackle you, it is downright terrifying.
The Bunco group held a singles night, and Charlie was there. I was there, too, playing waitress to the adults as they played the game and progressed from table to table. I was enjoying my job—I'd done it before—and I didn’t mind being the only child in attendance. Charlie paid a lot more attention to me than any of the other guests did, even my mom’s friends that I knew. I kept telling him that my name was Ashley, but he insisted on calling me “Kiddo.” It is a name I would come to hate.
The next night, Charlie took Mom and me to a carnival that was passing through town. I was riding the bumper cars, and when I got rammed from behind, I bit my tongue—hard. It stunned me, and I sat with my bloody tongue hanging out of my mouth, while other bumper cars zoomed around me. My mom called my name, but I could not focus enough to move. I was frozen. Out of the crowd, Charlie bounded across the floor, dodging bumper cars and looking for all he was worth like a super hero. He scooped me up out of the seat and dashed back to my mother with me.
“Gotta keep that tongue in your mouth when you drive bumper cars, Kiddo,” he said, winking, as he gently set me down. I felt like Lois Lane when Superman rescues her from being squished by a meteor. I'll bet there were actual stars in my eyes.
My mother and I were sold on him that night, but Charlie sealed the deal by bringing me toys and games every time he came over to our house. Four months later, in a ceremony held in Nanny and Papaw’s living room, my mother and Charlie were married. After years of being without a daddy, I finally had one.
Within a few months of the marriage, Charlie announced that he wanted to start his own construction business. He decided we needed to move to Baileyville, so he could land construction contracts easier than he was able to in LaSalle, which was overrun with the same sorts of start-up businesses. Nanny and Papaw were not happy about it, and neither was I. I loved my house, my neighborhood, and the only school I had ever known. I heard Nanny and Mom arguing about it on the phone, and Mom said, “Mother, I am married now, and my loyalty is to my husband. I am selling the house. We are moving, and that is final.”
We moved in the middle of the school year to a very small town and a ramshackle house out in the country. There were no other houses around ours, so I had no other kids to play with. When I got home from school each day, my only companions were the turkeys, geese, ducks, chickens, rabbits, and two stray dogs that wandered up and adopted us. My mom went to work for a podiatrist’s office in town as an assistant, and, irony of ironies, the only construction contracts Charlie could land were in Northside, right next door to LaSalle, so he went to work early and arrived home late most days. I got the feeling that things weren’t going too good. Mom asked Charlie about money all the time, and he didn’t like her questions one bit.
About the same time, my body decided it was time to start puberty, and my mother insisted on getting me a training bra. A true tomboy back in my old neighborhood, I hated the idea so much that I insisted on spelling the word, b-r-a, instead of coming out and saying it. It was hell, getting used to having straps around me and over my shoulders. On the inside, I kicked, screamed, and cursed Mother Nature for making me a girl.
To make matters worse, Baileyville has a long history of white-on-black racism, and most of the African-American students hated white people, whether they knew them or not. As if being white wasn't enough of a flashing neon sign that said, "Hit Me," I hit a growth spurt and got too tall for the clothes I had. There was no money to buy me new clothes. When my mom talked to Charlie about asking Nanny and Papaw to help us out so I could have some clothes, Charlie screamed at Mom, told her how stupid and fat she was, and said that if I wasn’t so fat, I would still be able to wear my clothes.
Who was this incredibly mean person? Where was the guy who risked life and limb to be my white knight on the bumper car ride?
My fourth grade school year, instead of dressing like an eight-year-old girl, I wore the fashion choices of a twenty-six-year-old woman. I had to wear my mom's clothes to school—and cowboy boots. The only shoes in our house that would fit my feet were some thrift store cowboy boots. Charlie said my feet were as big as beaver tails, like I could do anything about their size. He said that if my feet weren't so abnormally large, he'd buy me Adidas or Sketchers to wear, like the other kids had.
So here’s the deal: I am one of maybe ten white female students in an all-black elementary school. The black kids hate the white kids because for years and years, white people had treated black people like shit. My boobs have, against my will, burst upon the scene. I wear my mom's old lady clothes to school, and, in spite of its rural location, nobody, but nobody, wears cowboy boots to school. Oh, and my best friend is a rabbit named Cinnamon. Or she was. Until Charlie killed her.
I always had a creepy feeling when he got that look in his eyes and started breathing funny like he did when he was alone with me. Less than a year after they married, he gestured to me to sit on his lap. I did so, enjoying the idea of having a daddy like my friends did. I got so relaxed and content there, I dozed off. He started rubbing my brand-new breasts. I wasn’t actually all the way asleep, but it freaked me out so much that I pretended I was.
The next morning, a Saturday, my mother told me to go outside because Charlie wanted to talk to me. I approached him like I would come up on a King Cobra, full of dread and feeling like a tightly wound spring. His back was to me as he bent under the hood of our car, changing the oil.
"Mom told me to come out here. Said you want to talk to me," I spoke to the sky as I watched a black vulture circle over something dead.
Turning from the engine, he said, “Kiddo, slap my hands.” He paused as if waiting for my response.
"What? Why?" I played dumb, hoping that none of what happened in that chair had really happened. I was nine years old, and I already knew what he was doing was wrong.
"Last night … in the green chair …" Now it was his turn to stare somewhere else.
I tilted my head and, in a very high voice unlike my normal one, I said, "What chair? When?"
He smiled that closed-mouth smile from his "model" picture and said, “Never mind, Kiddo. You can go back inside now.”
My heart pounded in my ears as I walked away from him. The morning sun was blinding and felt hot on my hair.
Next time he patted his lap and smiled at me, I pretended I did not see him. When he grabbed my arm roughly and pulled me onto his lap, however, it was hard to fake being blind.
Not long after that, I walked out to the barn on a cool fall day to hang out with my friends, all of whom were covered in either feathers or fur. As I approached the rabbit cages in the barn, I saw Charlie facing the back corner of one of the stalls. He had killed a possum in that exact spot just a few days before. It had stood on its back legs, facing him full-on and hissing as it bared its mouthful of pointy teeth. He whacked it with a shovel and it either fell over dead or just looked like it was dead, "playing possum." Sort of like my faking being asleep.
"Is there another poss—" I began, and he turned to face me.
His penis was hanging out of his pants.
"What do you think of it?" he asked me. His hands were on his hips, legs wide, reminding me of the way Superman stands—like the super hero I used to believe he was.
Never having seen a man's privates before, I told him what it looked like to me: a fire hose.
Charlie smiled widely and looked pleased. I turned around and walked back to the house, the mental picture of Charlie's pose playing over and over in my mind.
A month or so later, I caught pneumonia and was very sick. When my mother could not miss any more work to care for me, I began to stay home alone. Then Charlie started coming home in the middle of the day. It's not like his job was right down the street, either. We lived a good hour and a half away from Northside.
I heard the back door open when I was in the bathroom on the toilet. I pushed the door closed and locked it.
"Ashley?" he called. I remained silent. I could hear his voice getting closer.
"Ashley? Oh, I see. You're playing hide-and-seek with me, aren't you?" He kind of giggled.
"No, I'm going to the bathroom."
He jiggled the doorknob. "Why's the door locked?" I heard him walk away, come back, and then the doorknob was being taken apart. He stuck his fingers in the doorknob hole, opened the door, and stood watching me.
I didn't know what to do. Stay on the pot with my short nightgown pulled as far down over my legs as I could get it—only to realize that doing so exposed my breasts—or stand and pull my panties up and hope he wouldn't see my privates when I did so? He took a few steps back into the hallway, kind of like a cat playing with a mouse.
I tried to get away from him—I know that much—but the next thing I remember is crawling on the floor with my panties around my ankles, and feeling a sense of wonder at how weak and shaky my arms and legs were. I don't remember anything else. My memory is sometimes like a videotape that's been taped over too many times. There's the movie, there's the movie, there's the movie, then, oops! Pure static, a mess of lines, no picture. What happened there? It's anyone's guess.
Within a few days of whatever it was that happened, Charlie announced to my mother that because I never paid any attention to our rabbits, he was going to kill them all. And he expected her to cook them. I freaked out. Even though I did pay attention to the rabbits—I fed them every day, held them, and talked to them all the time—I felt so guilty that those rabbits were going to die because of me! And there was Cinnamon, who I actually did have a relationship with. Well, as much relationship as a nine-year-old girl can have with, let's face it, a rodent of sorts.
"Mom, do something!" I begged my mother as she stirred together a box of macaroni and cheese.
"I'm going to cook them, Ashley, but you don't have to eat any," she said, completely missing the big picture. I ran to the barn, determined to say the right thing to save my rabbits.
I tripped over a bucket when I heard the screech of a cage door being opened, and rounded the corner in time to see Charlie smack the black rabbit, Scooter, in the back of the head. I squeezed my eyes shut and just started pleading. "Please, Charlie, please don't kill the rabbits. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Whatever I did, I'm sorry. Please."
He held Scooter so that I got the full effect of how dead he was. "You never pay any attention to these goddamn things, so why do you care? They're all diseased."
Then why would you want to eat them? I wonder now, but at the time I couldn't even think straight. "Please, Charlie, at least don't kill Cinnamon. Please. She's mine. You gave her to me. You said she was for me to raise."
He tossed aside Scooter, his skull crushed and bloodied by the tire iron Charlie held in his right hand. "Go on, Ash-Hole. Get out of here."
"Please!" I shrieked, hysterical, but he stepped toward me with the blood-covered end of the tire iron angled as if I was next.
"Get out of here!" he roared.
I ran toward the pond, stopping only when I reached the bank, where I threw myself down on my stomach and screamed into the dirt. I looked up and saw Charlie raise the tire iron in the air and bring it crashing down upon the back of Cinnamon’s head. Her body convulsed once, then hung limp. He had killed the other rabbits inside the barn, but brought Cinnamon outside, within view of the pond.
The next night, my mother served Charlie fried rabbit.

At school, the fourth-grade boys ran up to the girls who had breasts (a lot more girls’ chests had erupted in fourth than in third), and acted as if they were going to grab them. They got a kick out of the girls' shock, stopped just short of touching, and said, as they made squeezing motions, “Cush! Cush!” I always wondered why the teachers didn't do anything about it. Were they blind? How could they possibly look the other way?
Between the boys at school and Charlie, I was under constant scrutiny from creatures of the male persuasion. I became very self-conscious about having breasts, and at night, before falling asleep, I tried to claw them off my chest. I still have deep grooves in my skin where I scratched myself senseless. I hated them. I felt that if it weren't for those damned things, my life would still be pretty easy. Before going to sleep, I would pray to God to please take these things back; I didn't want them and never had. Imagine my disappointment upon waking each day.
We did not live in Baileyville long, just about eighteen months. Charlie’s business had taken off in Northside, and I felt relieved when we left Baileyville behind and returned to the suburbs of Dallas. I think I was hoping that the Charlie I lived with in Baileyville would go away, never to return, and the-good-guy-rescuer-of-bloody-tongued-girls-on-bumper-cars would return to take his place.
In Baileyville, even though I wasn't an outsider because of my skin color, I had a sense of awkwardness about myself that came from within. I knew that what was going on in my house was wrong, but I didn’t know what to do about it.
Charlie chose our new house, another fixer-upper. It had three bedrooms. My bedroom was right across the hall from my parents' room, and my bedroom connected via a bathroom to the guest bedroom.
The doors were hollow and made of flimsy pressed wood. Somehow, the guest room’s bathroom door kept getting a hole smashed all the way through it, so there was always a large, irregularly-shaped peephole in it, about the size of a CD. There was a towel rack in the bathroom behind the door, and I kept catching hell about slamming the door into the towel rack.
The thing is, I hardly ever even opened that door. My great-grandfather was living with Nanny and Papaw by then. On days that Nanny needed a break from him, he would be delivered to our house to do handyman work. Great-Grandpa would go from room to room with a little toolbox, looking for stuff to fix. I don't know how many jars of wood putty he went through on that door. The repair job looked awful, but it didn't matter, because wood putty over a hole in a hollow door is futile, unless the door is never opened or closed. Within a day or so of being repaired, SMASH! the hole was back again, and I was blamed.
I had successfully "operated" a shower curtain for years, able to pull it closed and keep it closed when I was taking a shower, but when my mom replaced my clear shower curtain with a solid maroon one, I apparently forgot how to use a shower curtain correctly. Within days of the new curtain being put up, Charlie was bitching, saying that I was so stupid I didn't even know how to keep the floor dry when I took a shower. To prove his point, he brought us back to the bathroom after I had showered and showed us the standing water on the floor. It hadn't been there when I got out of the shower, I knew, because not only was the floor dry, but I was obsessed with keeping the curtain sealed up against the sides of the shower and along the inside of the tub. Showers were like this: scrub scrub STOP check the curtain for gaps; scrub scrub STOP check the curtain for gaps. Some people found bathing relaxing; for me, it was training ground for becoming an obsessive-compulsive.
He acted like it was a huge imposition, having to spend the money and all, but the next day, Charlie took a day off from work to install crystal clear glass sliding doors.
I think I knew he was watching me shower, but I didn’t want to believe it. I could sense someone watching me, but I told myself that it was my imagination. One day, however, feeling really put out with being spied on, I slid open the glass door, stepped out into the bathroom, and stared directly at the hole. I saw his eye, gray and unblinking, watching me. I don't remember anything except that eye. My mind kind of shuts down when I'm freaking out.
Ever the one with a plan, I stuck a thumbtack through the thin wood of the door right above the hole and hung a towel over it, ending his personal peep show. Or so I thought. But Charlie became more determined and started opening the door a crack. So I pulled out the drawers next to the door and stuffed towels between the drawers and the door, so the door couldn't budge at all. Not being able to view me bathing anymore only made him bolder in his pursuits at other times.
He came into my room at night, with my mother asleep across the hall, and ran his hands over my body. I fought back by always sleeping on my stomach and making myself into a human burrito with my blankets, regardless of the warmth of the season. You know those dreams where you just know something terrible is about to happen, like a tornado is coming toward your house, but your feet are melded to the ground and you can’t move, can’t scream, you … freeze? That's what every night was like.
I was in sixth grade by then, the tallest girl in my class, at five feet, three inches. I haven't grown an inch taller since sixth grade, but my body continued to take on curves, sprout hair everywhere, and look like that of a woman, even though I was still a little girl inside. A more and more angry little girl.
For some reason (note that I am being sarcastic here), I fell into a bad mood and stayed there. My mother threatened to make me go live with my father if I didn’t behave, if I didn’t shake the “ugliness” that I had been in for so long. That was her big threat: she would call the faceless person who, in her mind, left me when I was three months old, because he had made no attempt to see me, ever.
I made up my mind to call my mother to my room the next time Charlie touched me. I wanted her to catch him. Getting my frozen body to cooperate, though, was a different story. I could only cry out into my pillow, and the sounds that came out of my mouth were muffled cries, like "Murgh." I squeezed my eyes shut, my eyelids sealed tight. Every muscle and bone in my body tried to form a wall against his attempts to turn me over by sliding his hands under my breasts or hips. My body was locked, rigid, and it took an incredible amount of strength to will my eyes to open, but I forced them to, because I needed to see him in my room, so that I could believe it was really happening.
There he was, his white underwear looking blue in the moonlight, as he stood next to my bed.
The next morning, I told my mom that someone was in my room at night, and she told me that I must have been dreaming, or that it was because I had been reading a science fiction book about space aliens. Obviously, she said, I dreamed that those aliens were trying to abduct me, and maybe I shouldn't read any more of that book.
She told Charlie what I said, and I heard her talking on the phone to my aunt about it. She talked about it so much, I'll bet she even told people in line at the grocery store.
"There must be something wrong with Ashley," she told whoever would listen.
From then on, Mom and Charlie told me that I could not tell my dreams from reality. I began to believe that I was crazy. My grades started slipping; subjects I had once been strong and confident in, like math, became impossible to master. Mom insisted that I ask Charlie for help with it. He threw my book at me and told me I was not only crazy, but I was stupid too.
When I was in seventh grade, a local church began to evangelize by passing out flyers announcing "pizza parties" on Friday evenings. I had already become suspicious of other people's motives for being nice to me, so I wondered why strangers would want to feed me pizza. What I found out was that the "parties" were really revivals, and the idea of a man yelling hellfire and brimstone stuff at me was more than I could take.
Believe it or not, we were members of the Methodist church. It was, in fact, one of the few places I felt safe and loved. People did not really know us; they had no idea what we were like at home, but they accepted our masks. Charlie was head of the landscaping committee, and my mom was a lay leader, a member who helped lead the congregation. I'm sure the people who told me how lucky I was to have such wonderful parents would be shocked to know the dirty little secret of Charlie's nighttime activities.
I think the reason I felt so loved at church was that the minister told me that God IS Love. God didn't create ugliness in the world. God was not a punishing god. God was there to hold you up when you thought you couldn't take anymore. The God I knew didn't list conditions for His loving me.
I didn't have any close friends, but when my classmates came back to school on the Monday after the "Give Your Heart to Jesus and Have a Slice of Pepperoni" thing, they carried Bibles, pamphlets, and holier-than-thou attitudes toward anyone who wasn't there.
"Have you been saved, Ashley?" Korey Hendrix asked as he slid into his seat to my right in first period math class.
"I … think so. I mean, we don't use that word in my church, but I've been baptized," I said, as I finished writing my heading on my paper.
"And how were you baptized? Did'ja go under water?" Korey never even acknowledged that I took up space in the row next to his, unless he wanted to borrow a piece of paper or have me pass a note to Sherry Brown, who he was going out with. Why was he so interested in me now?
I had a bad feeling about this. "No, the minister put some water on my head."
"Did you pray this prayer?" Mary Hood chimed in from two seats behind me. She recited what amounted to: "Jesus, I know I'm a horrible person and I don't deserve Your love, but the wretched piece of crap that I am humbly asks for You to lower Your standards enough to allow me to be called one of Your children. In Your name, I pray. Amen."
Of course I replied that I hadn't said a prayer like that, even though I had never known any belief but Christianity. I was a "cradle Christian." But apparently not the right kind.
"You're supposed to pray this prayer and cry a lot. It's how you know the Devil has been washed out of your soul," said Korey, turning to the back page of his pamphlet.
"If you didn't cry, how can you really know you've been saved, Ashley?" I jumped when she spoke; I didn't realize that Cynthia Morris was standing to my left, looking down at me.
There were so many more happy and peaceful born-again zombies surrounding me at school, I began to wonder if they were right. Maybe God was punishing me for being the wrong kind of Christian, by allowing me to be spied on, groped, pulled at … you get the idea. I thought, "If I can get some of what they've got, I'll have some of their peace too." And maybe God would smite Charlie, or at least make him leave me alone.
I never went to one of the pizza parties, but I did start riding my bike down to the Christian bookstore in my neighborhood. It was one of those bookstores that put books about Catholicism and Buddhism in the "cult" section. I spent hours poring over the literature, to the strange looks of the clerks. I mean, how many twelve- and thirteen-year-old girls spent time in the self-help section of their store? I couldn't afford the hardcover books they had on "how to bring happiness to your home," but I did buy little soft-cover gems like The Jesus Person's Pocket Book of Promises. In it, I found over one hundred numbered promises Jesus had made to me, most of them regurgitations of the prayer my newly blessed friends had cited as The Way, written from Jesus' point of view, which only people who attended pizza party revivals, certain churches, and were baptized the "right" way were privy to.
I was in so much pain and so angry all the time, I figured I would try anything once, or twice … or countless times. Maybe I was so fundamentally flawed, I wasn't even doing Christianity right. The thing was, I couldn't cry. I prayed that damn prayer so many times on my knees beside my bed, like it said to do. Then I'd wait for the uplifted, "saved" feeling that would happen when the Holy Spirit filled my body and soul, but it never came. Maybe I was such a worthless person even God had turned His back on me. I became angrier then, and curious about the nature of evil. How did bad people come into the power they had?
I biked to the library and checked out a book on Adolph Hitler, the baddest of the bad that I could think of. Why did people listen to him? How did a person who was so evil become so powerful? I wanted to know.
When my mother saw the book on my desk in my bedroom, she snatched it up and insisted that I take it back immediately. "I will not have that man in my house!" she railed. "He was a tyrant and an evil person!"
"Yeah, I know, Mom, that's why I want to figure out why people listened to him."
"No! Get that book out of my house!" she flung open the front door and let me know that if I didn't take the book back to the library immediately, she would throw it into the street.
You know, it almost makes me laugh. My mother's high sensitivity to the presence of evil in a bunch of pages bound together with glue and a cover, coexisting with her complete refusal to acknowledge the real Satan sleeping next to her each night (when he wasn't trying to pull me out of my covers, that is). It's freakin' surreal. I could laugh at how clueless she is, if it weren't so painful.
As Charlie's pursuits and mental games became more intense, the survivalist within me really started to emerge. Or the terrified coward. It's pretty much a toss-up. Like Hitler and my stepfather living at one point on the same planet, there is a tough, take-no-prisoners survivor—and a pathetic wimp—living together inside of me.
Dr. Matt, my therapist, who I've known since last summer, explained it to me. See, there's this thing called fight or flight. People have had these instincts since way back when. It's like a decision your body and brain make to help the human race keep on keepin' on. During fight or flight, you go on autopilot. It's not as if you take the time to rationally stand in the face of a charging bear and say, "My, my. How should I handle this?" The adrenaline in the body shoots off the scales, and decisions are made by that shot of natural speed. I don't know about other people, but when I experience fight or flight, I pretty much don't remember what happens. It's like waking up from a dream when you never were asleep to begin with; you were just an animal doing what you had to do, to be safe.
Defiance and a bad attitude toward the world were wearing on me, besides not working in terms of keeping Charlie away. I don't know if it was a rational decision or one born of panic, but I started sleeping in my closet on some nights. I had a walk-in closet with two clothing racks, one above the other. I also had a lot of toys and junk in my closet, which assisted in helping me hide. Folding myself into the space behind my lower rack of clothes, I’d adjust the long stuff like my coat, robe, and dresses so that there were no "holes" in the space between the upper and lower racks, and I could (hopefully) not be seen. I crouched on the floor the way you do when you have a tornado drill at school—you know the position, put your head between your knees and kiss your ass goodbye. Then I'd tuck my feet in with the clothes on the bottom rack. All in the dark, of course, because I closed the door behind me and left the light off. It was incredibly hot in there—stifling hot. Charlie didn't believe in wasting money on air-conditioning, either, and during the summers, it would get so hot behind those clothes, I'd feel like I was going to pass out.
Sometimes I'd stay in there a little while, just until I felt safe again. Most of the time, though, I woke up on my side in the morning with carpet imprints on the side of my face, as well as the occasional straight pin stuck in my leg. I didn’t sleep very well in my closet, but at least Charlie wasn’t trying to unroll me from my blanket cocoon. And it wasn't like he could say to my mom, "Cheryl, when I went into Ashley's room to molest her just now, she wasn't in bed. Do you happen to know where she is, so I may get whatever it is that I get out of doing that to her?"
I hid in my closet during the day if I was alone with Charlie and picked up on the vibe that I was about to be jumped. One way I got a hint was if he watched me, staring openly at my chest. Another way was if he acted really, really nice to me, like asking me how my day was going. I am automatically suspicious of any man who is nice to me. My first thought: What does he want? Gotta want something; he's being nice. It took me forever to know for sure that I could trust David, my dad, who I live with now, and Dr. Matt. Before them, I thought that all men had a thing for little girls. If they hadn't tried anything with me yet, it was just because they hadn't decided to, yet. It was only a matter of time, I thought.
Since Charlie had broken the locks on my bedroom and bathroom doors, I had no way to keep him out of my room. I tried putting my kid-sized desk chair under the doorknob, and he broke the chair in half coming through the door. My mother was steamed when she saw the chair, and I told her that I leaned back in it until it broke. With the exception of never finding me in my closet, the one place in my life where I had control, Charlie was all-powerful. He even claimed to know my own mind better than I knew it.
A couple of years ago when I was thirteen, I was watching a cop show on TV, and I made a comment about how cute I thought this one actor was. Things had been going well at home, at least in terms of what our home was like, and I felt pretty relaxed with my mom as we sat and watched TV. Charlie was returning from the bathroom, walking through the room behind the sofa when I said it, and he went off on me.
“You want to screw him! You said you want to screw him!”
"No, I didn't."
"Cheryl? Did you hear what that little slut said? She just told you she wants to fuck that guy. That guy's old enough to be your father, Ashley." He came around to the front of the sofa and charged both of us. Mom tried to stand up, and he pushed her back down.
"Charlie, I really don't think—" She held up her hands as if she was surrendering.
"Shut up, you stupid bitch! I'm sick of not being respected in this house! Nobody in this house respects me!" He left the den and when he returned from their bedroom, he carried a rifle.
"Charlie, what are you do—?" Mom said. I pulled my knees up to my chest, but Mom didn't seem concerned, given the presence of a firearm and all.
"She said she wants to fuck that guy. You don't believe me. You don't believe what I said, so you're calling me a liar." He staggered a little, bumped into the side table next to his oversized chair, and knocked his drink and bowl of peanuts to the floor.
"No, I'm not, Charlie. I would never." Her tone was even and calm.
"Get out of my house! If you don't respect me, you can get out of my house!" He pointed toward the front door with the barrel of the rifle.
My mother laughed at him, and I thought she had lost her mind. In the voice she uses with me when she thinks I'm being unreasonable, she said, "Fine, we'll leave."
"If you come back, I'll kill you! I'll kill you both!"
It was about ten o’clock at night when my mother took me and we started driving the streets of Northside. I kept begging her, “Let’s leave him, Mom, please, let’s leave for good. We can get an apartment. I'll get a job or something.”
"You're too young."
"No, I'll–I'll clean houses or something! I'll baby-sit every weekend! Please, Mom!"
"You're right, Ashley. We should get a place of our own. But I need to set some money aside first," she said in that same calm voice she had used with Charlie. We crossed the bridge over the highway and entered La Salle, where she grew up. I hoped we were going to Nanny and Papaw's house.
"Are we going to Nanny's?"
She did not answer me at first, then, in a broken voice, she said, “I just don’t want to be alone. I can't. I can't do it. I … he loves me, Ashley. I know he does. He's just drunk. He doesn't mean any of it. It's the alcohol talking, not him. He's such a good person. You know that." A sob escaped her throat.
At midnight she pulled into a McDonald’s drive-through and ordered a chocolate shake and small order of fries. It's one of her favorite combinations. She asked me if I wanted anything. I said, "No." What I wanted, she was not willing to do.
Neon store signs blurred together as I stared silently out the window through my tears. I wanted to tell her then, tell her everything he had been doing to me, but I couldn’t get the words to come out. She was already so upset. I hated it when my mother cried. It was always my fault, like this, our having to leave the house, really was. If I hadn't opened my mouth about that actor. I thought back to the time Charlie went on a two-day bender and only called home once in a while. My mom was hysterical; all she did was cry and wait by the phone. When he called she begged him to come back, asked him what she did wrong and promised she would change, do whatever it took for him to come back home.
At one a.m., my mom was listening to a Beach Boys CD. We had driven down my grandparents' street but not stopped, and I was brainstorming a way out that would not require the cooperation of my mother, that would not make my mother cry, and that would make Charlie stop touching me. All in my head, of course.
Even now, I have a hard time ever getting my mind to stop planning an escape route or a place to hide if things get dicey. My radar is always up and checking the screen for changes in other people's behavior toward me and how they are feeling, because if I've learned anything, it's this: people act out from their feelings. It's something I'm still working to get over, because Dr. Matt says it's not healthy to be so tied up in what other people think, feel, and do. It's like I assume that betrayal or rejection are inevitable, and I want to be prepared for it so I can stay safe, or at least not hurt as badly as I will if I'm not on my guard.
Charlie was unpredictable: creepy-sweet to me when my mom wasn’t around and brutally cruel to me when she was. As we drove toward our end of town, I could hear in my head Charlie's reasoning for the way he treated me. Just a couple of weeks before, he was at the kitchen table cracking pecans, and I was making a piece of cheese toast in the microwave. Mom was not home.
"Do you know why I'm mean to you, Ashley?" he gently asked.
I shook my head and watched my cheese toast revolve in the microwave. Crack went the teeth of the nut cracker against the pecan shell.
"I'm mean to you so you won't trust me. You can't trust me. I don't want you to trust me." Crack. Crack.
I stared at the toast. Am I cooking this too long? Is it going to be rubbery?
He continued. "You know what? You are a sexy girl. You are a foxy little thing. Crack. You can do anything you want, Ashley. You can sleep with any guy you want, and you could tell me, and I wouldn't tell your mother.” Crack. Crack.
Dammit, I'm sure I ruined this toast. It's going to be all tough now. I was afraid that would happen.
"But if you ever tell her what I've done; why you Crack can't trust me, I'll leave her. I will. I will BE … Crack ... GONE … just like that. And you'll have to tell her why I left.
"Just don't come home pregnant. If you ever come home Crack Crack pregnant, I'll leave. Just like that. I'll leave if you come home pregnant. I couldn't TAKE IT if you got pregnant!" He lifted the newspaper he had been shelling pecans over, and dumped the fragments in a paper grocery sack next to his chair. He stretched out his fingers, popped his knuckles, and prepared to start the next round of pecan shelling.
The cheese was beyond bubbly, actually starting to grow brown spots on the surface, and the door of the microwave was filling with steam, but the sight took on a dreamy quality as I stared at it so long that it blurred before my eyes. I knew Charlie had had a vasectomy four years before. I don't know why I thought about that in connection with his pregnancy comment, but I did. At the time of his surgery, he was quite obvious about his discomfort, and my mother's sympathy for his pain was all she talked about. The nine-year-old I was didn't want to know about his shaved testicles. I don't think I would want to know about them at the age of ninety-nine, for that matter. I didn't want to know about his stitches and how they itched and if his incision was puffy. Leave me out of it, for the love of God.
"Your mother … doesn't like sex. She hates sex. I … have needs, Ashley. Needs that your mother doesn't want to meet." Crack.
DING! Thank God. My cheese toast shriveled to what resembled a piece of varnished wood, I took it out of the microwave, threw it in the wastebasket next to the microwave cart, and went to my room to do my history homework. You know the sound a seashell makes when you put your ear up to it? That's the sound I hear in my head when I mentally go someplace else, when where I am gets to be too much. Whoosh.

Every once in a while we would stop. Mom didn't grab her cell phone from the charger before we left, and she would get out and go to a pay phone to call and see if Charlie still wanted to kill us. I watched her insert quarter after quarter. I guessed that he was answering the phone—that's why it cost her a new quarter each time—then slamming it down when he heard her voice.
She came to the car and dug around in the ashtray for a coin. "Do you have a quarter?" she asked.
I shook my head, "No."
She lifted the floor-mat. "Oh, here's one!" she said in her light, happy voice. Her shoulders slumped as she trudged back to the phone booth. A car load of bandanna-wearing guys in a low-rider came thumping by our car slowly, the eyes of its occupants scanning my mother's backside and trying to get me to look at them. I looked down when I saw what they were doing. Every cell in my body wanted to lean over and lock her door, like I had already locked mine. I fought the urge to roll up her window and leave her to their mercy, while I had at least managed to delay their attack by being inside the car. I couldn't just throw her to the wolves like that, could I?
I wanted to honk at Mom, to make her turn around and see that we had a more immediate threat than Charlie just then, but she did not turn around to acknowledge the thump-thump of the gang's stereo system. Her shoulders remained slumped, her head bowed, as she listened to ring after ring after ring, which Charlie ignored.
God apparently still listened to me even though I had flunked out as a Christian, because the low-rider moved on, its deliberately slow retreat reminding me of a shark choosing to let its prey live another day, swimming off into the ocean depths.
Around two a.m., after another ten minutes of her standing in the dark and listening to the phone ring, we drove back home.
"Mom, he said he'd kill us. He's going to shoot us. We should call the police and make them go in first." I knew as I said it that my mother would never involve anyone else in our family's business. What would people think?
"He's probably passed out. He won't even remember this in the morning, Ashley Nicole. It's the alcohol talking, remember? We're going home and going to bed."
There were no lights on in the house when we drove up, not even the familiar light we always left on above the kitchen sink.
"I want to stay in the car. I'm afraid to go in," I told Mom as I leaned my seat back.
"Don't be silly," she said sharply. "It's not safe for you to sleep out here. Get yourself out of that car and come in with me. Now."
I slowly got out of the car, the urge to crawl on my hands and knees overwhelming me. "Come on!" she hissed from the front porch.
She knocked on the door. No response. She put her key in the lock and turned it slowly. I expected the door to blow off its hinges.
Gingerly she eased the door open, and whatever objects Charlie had piled up against it went clattering to the floor. Mom laughed nervously. I held my breath.
She pushed the door open all the way, flipped on the light switch in the foyer, and I gasped at the destruction. Charlie had torn the curtains from the den windows and stacked piece upon piece of furniture and heavy objects in front of the doors and windows. The sliding glass door was secured not only with the lock, but with broken pieces of a kitchen chair, as well. The shutters in the front room were closed up so tightly, you'd think we lived on the coast and a hurricane was coming.
A pile of shiny objects glinted against the dark oak parquet floor, and upon closer inspection, it was clear that my mother's collection of elephant figurines had been destroyed.
His rage seemed pretty much contained to the room in which I had uttered those words, as I watched an actor toss his blonde hair and slide his sunglasses onto the neck of his shirt: "He's cute. I wish I could meet him."

I knew how afraid my mom was of being alone. And more than that, I was afraid of being taken away from her. I figured if I told what was happening to me, I would be taken away from my mom, like the foster kids we had were taken away from their parents. A few years ago, my stepdad saw an ad in the local paper pleading for foster families. He was a foster kid himself, and he decided that we needed to open our home to others the way that somebody else took him in.
The story goes that Charlie ran away from home when he was fourteen, and was walking on the highway in an ice storm, wearing just an old white t-shirt and holey jeans, when a nice man pulled his car over and offered him a home. Charlie worshipped the family that took him in, and he declared that we, too, needed to share what we had with others, by being a foster family. The screening process did not involve me at all. I was kind of hoping it would, because if they asked me if everything was okay at our house and I told them it wasn't, maybe they could make Charlie leave. No such luck.
We were a foster family to girls between the ages of eight and twelve, the only gender and age bracket my parents said they would be willing to take in. I guess Charlie's generosity did not extend to boys. For about a year, one little girl at a time occupied our guest bedroom. Suddenly, we stopped being a foster family, though it was never discussed with me. Now I wonder if any of those girls were abused, too.
Those poor girls came through our house, and I saw how messed up they were. I wondered why they didn't stay with any of their other family members. I didn’t know my father, but I never thought of him as another place I could go. As far as I was concerned, he didn’t want me.
Besides not wanting to hurt my mother, I also was afraid that if I told, I could be put into a house like ours. From talking to some of the older girls I shared a bathroom with for anywhere from one day to three months, I learned the reason they had been taken from their original families was the same reason I wanted out of mine. In those girls' eyes, there was desperation, grief, and complete confusion as to why they had been sent away from the one person who was supposed to be willing to die for them, if the situation arose. I wonder what they saw when they looked at me.

** Courage in Patience is available on Amazon and Barnes & Noble

Raped and Not Reporting It

2008-10-12T16:22:00.001-05:00

So much of what Megan has said in this blog entry at Jezebel and some of the comments resonate with my own experience:

"...the thing is, it's great to say that we should do this or we should do that for the sake of women everywhere. But no one — and especially not other women and supposed feminists — has the right to tell me or any other victim of sexual assault that being victimized and being traumatized leaves us responsible for making the world a better place (as though that's what's accomplished by reporting a rape, actually). We all have a responsibility to try to prevent them, to create a world where they are much more of an exception than the rule, where drunk girls or slutty girls or drunken slutty girls don't have to explain their behavior to anyone — regardless of whether they have been assaulted, or after having been assaulted — and where victims don't have to explain to non-victims the choices they made. My pursuing the prosecution of the one made no more difference in the world than not prosecuting the other. But maybe my talking about them both, maybe helping to ease the stigma of it for other people and create a space where I don't have to be ashamed of being a victim (or of how I chose to deal with that) will."

I was 19. She was 24. She drugged and raped me repeatedly for 10 or so hours, then expected me to be her "boyfriend" for the rest of the weekend.

I didn't report it. How could I? I was unable to call it rape then, let alone remember much of it at all.

It took 18 years for the memories to come back to me. They are still coming back.

I won't go into details as I've already done that before, but suffice it to say that she was organized and seemed like she had done it before and the man she arrived with - a mutual friend - may have been an accomplice. She likely did it again. And - she was pregnant and used her fetus as a human shield to prevent me from stopping the rape when I finally awoke from the sedatives hours later.

I was 19 and a Marine stationed at at nearby base. She was 24, pregnant and a local. Who do the self-righteous commenters on Megan's thread think the police would have believed in my case?

Me? If so, they should probably stop smoking that crack...

So, am I to blame for her future victims? Am I to blame if she abused her child? Is it my fault that men aren't supposed be victims? Aren't supposed to admit that a woman can hurt them? That women aren't supposed to be predators? That I wouldn't in a million years be believed by local authorities in the early 1990s, let alone in 2008? My fault that I went into denial? That I repressed it?

Or is she to blame?

Sorry to disappoint the victim-blamers and the shamers who've trolled Megan's thread and the one at Dr. Helen's PJM story (where I told my story publicly months ago) with their bile, but rapists - and only rapists are to blame for their rapes.

And those who disagree are free to take all of my PTSD, years of sexual self abuse and doomed relationships and make them their own.

Then, come back and tell me how I'm to blame for coping the best way I knew how.

Related links:

My Sexual Assault Is Not Your Political Issue: http://jezebel.com/5022019/my-sexual-assault-is-not-your-political-issue

Raped and Not Reporting It: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3248/79/

Courage in Patience Book Trailer

2008-10-10T20:23:00.001-05:00

Survivor of Sexual Abuse Reviews Courage in Patience

2008-10-03T20:12:00.001-05:00

From: Angels That Care

http://wwwangelsthatcareorgalerthtml.blogspot.com/2008/10/courage-in-patience-beth-fehlbaum.html

Courage in Patience. Not wanting to think about sexual abuse -- let alone another child suffering through rape -- I stalled by focusing on the title. How clever it had been for the author to set most of the action in a town called Patience. At least read the rest of this summary, I thought. It quickly became clear that although the book is a novel, Beth Fehlbaum did not write it from the perspective of a person standing outside looking in. She, too, was sexually assaulted as a child. Not only has she faced what happened, she has worked through her pain so she can help others see that they are not alone. Instead of letting stress burn her up inside, she braved smoke and flames in order to throw open a window. That is her holding out a flag that says in large, bold letters, You are not a victim, you are you. No one is more valuable. Fear and anger must not be allowed to consume you. There is a rainbow at the end of the long, storm-prone road to recovery, and that road leads to a smoother one.

Knowing all this did not keep me from stalling again. Child abuse -- particularly sexual abuse -- is not academic to me. The very idea makes scars that Time has not healed throb. I became a writer in the hope that shedding light will eventually dry the sludge poisoning my psyche enough that some will blow away. What doesn't can be channeled to some far-off sea, where it will immediately sink to the bottom, never to surface again. Pouring hurt onto paper has helped Ink fades, after all. You can burn paper if you have to. But no matter what you do, a certain amount of residue is going to cling. What you need to do is season it with love and understanding, then make a healing poultice of the mixture and spread it around. I am so glad I quite stalling. Because Courage in Patience does just that.

Beth Fehlbaum has written a story that I guarantee will stay with you. Her characters are fully developed, not Joan of Arcs and Darth Vaders. She was so smart not to make a goodie-goodie of the girl who is the target of the abuse. Not only do you empathize, you end up aching for her to find a way out of
the dark! The man who abuses her acts despicably, but he is human. Only a stone would not hurt when reading about the rapes, but what stabbed me the deepest was the mother's betrayal. It brought memories to the surface that I do my best to keep in the graves I worked hard and long to dig and fill. The only time I unearth them is when I am writing. When I write about them, it is in the hope of killing them. (Know I can't, but it would be dishonest to pretend I don't try.) Like Beth Fehlbaum, I harbor the hope that my ordeal will ring enough bells to ease others' pain and and make at least a few abusers seek help.

One reservation that I had in the beginning was that the novel was really two, and should be split. I was wrong. The book is not "about sexual abuse." It is not "about racial discrimination." It is about accepting who we are. It is about accepting each other. It is about faith. It is about gut-level courage and dogged patience and the value -- no, the absolute necessity -- of a free, well-rounded, genuinely enlightened education. It is about the worst in us and the best in us. I love to read books that somehow manage to entertain while teaching important lessons. That teach without teaching down! Courage in Patience is all this and more. Were there medals for fortitude and compassion, she would surely qualify.

I am convinced that one of the mega-publishers will pick up the novel. I am hoping that the editions they print will be in standard, single-spaced format. Double-spacing makes the book look longer than it is. This is a very minor drawback. I only mention it because I would like to see Courage in Patience reach millions. If you haven't read it, you are missing out.

Author/Editor Phyllis Jean D. Green
http://www.authorphyllisjeangreen.com
http://www.phyllisjeangreen.info

A Hopeful Book

2008-09-22T19:56:00.001-05:00

From: http://bookchase.blogspot.com

The fact that so many children are sexually abused in their homes by their parents, step-parents or siblings, is a despicable little secret that most people manage not to think much about until they learn that someone they know has been victimized that way. It might be a neighbor or it might be a relative, but the shock is the same. But, as Beth Fehlbaum makes clear in Courage in Patience, we should not be so surprised.

Ashley Asher has been sexually abused by her step-father since she was nine years old and her mother does not seem to be aware that it is happening. For a while, Ashley even tried to pretend to herself that it was not happening and she created a place in her mind she could retreat to when it did happen. She has come to recognize the “whooshing” sound she hears in her head when faced with the approach of her step-father as a sign that she is tuning out the world, her way of coping with the ugliness around her. Her retreat allows her, in fact, to forget the details of what her step-father does to her and, once it is all over, she is never quite sure exactly what has happened.

But Ashley is no longer nine years old. Despite the six years of abuse she has suffered at the hands of the animal that lives in her home, she has become a bright, but emotionally scarred, young lady. She finally finds the courage to reveal what has been happening to her to a friend who, in turn, manages to get Ashley to speak with a high school counselor.

And that is how Ashley Asher found herself living in Patience, Texas, with the father she had never met.

As so often seems to happen in sexual abuse cases where a step-father is involved, Ashley’s mother refuses to believe that her new husband is abusing her daughter. She simply does not want to believe that her husband is capable of such a thing and she is so desperate to keep him that she works hard to convince herself that her daughter is a liar – or even worse, that Ashley is the aggressor and has been actively seducing her husband.

This lack of support from her mother has done as much damage to Ashley as the sexual abuse she has suffered. She is guilt-ridden and blames herself for much of what has happened. She struggles to fit into her new family, one that includes a brother she never knew she had and a woman who is more a mother to her than the one she left behind. Thankfully, Ashley Asher has found support groups, both at home and at school, that will help her to overcome the hard reality of having had her childhood so brutally stolen from her.

Courage in Patience is a hopeful book, one that will offer comfort and inspiration to those who have, themselves, suffered this kind of abuse. Perhaps even more importantly, the book is written in a way that makes it perfect for study and discussion in high school English classes around the world. It just might give young abuse victims the courage they need to save themselves from this kind of thing before it becomes too late for them. This is an important book, one from which I learned much about why sexual abuse in the home can go on for so many years without it being exposed, and one which I hope courageous high school teachers will embrace and teach for the benefit of their students.

Rated at: 5.0

Incest Survivors' Site interviews author of YA fiction Recovery Novel

2008-09-22T05:52:00.002-05:00

Tanya T. Warrington, host of the blog site Dazzling Wings, interviewed Beth Fehlbaum, author of the YA fiction novel, Courage in Patience (Kunati Books, September 1, 2008). The interview will be posted on the Dazzling Wings site today.

1. Why did you write a story whose main character (Ashley) has been abused emotionally, physically, and sexually?

Courage in Patience came about, in a way, as a therapeutic suggestion. I have been in counseling for almost four years, dealing with my experience of being sexually abused as a child. About two years in to the process, I had been writing short stories and poems as a way of processing my feelings. One day, my therapist suggested that I try writing a novel. Initially, I was writing it for myself-- and the story as it is did not take shape until about four months in, because it was not until I was able to pull myself out of my head and be an observer to someone else's experience that Ashley Nicole Asher, age fifteen, came into being.

2. What hope do you wish to give other survivors of abuse through this book?

I want other people who are on the same road that I have been on to know that they are NOT crazy to have feelings like Ashley has, and that they are not alone in their struggle to heal. Above all, I want to give them hope that they can make it through the darkest days of being on the journey to recovery, and come far enough to be able to SEE how far they have come.

3. The episodes in the book that describe Ashely's PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) panic attacks and her skill at disassociating from painful incidents are vivid and authentic. If one of my blog readers were to read your book and its realism "triggered" a PTSD or disassociation attack, what would you like her or him to know?

That is a great question, and one that I do not take lightly. I will be really honest with you-- I am protective of myself with respect to what I read and watch on TV and in the movies so that I am not triggered-- and I hope that other survivors will also be protective of themselves. I sincerely worried about the possibility of triggering other people when I decided to publish Courage in Patience. At the same time, it is Ashley's story, just as we all have our own stories, and I felt it was important to tell it so that the healing that takes place would be just as true. I would never, never want anyone to be triggered by what I wrote, though, and if it does have that affect, please know that I know where you are in your struggle, what you are dealing with.

4. I love the structure of your novel. The first 1/4 gives us an intense introduction to how Ashley is being abused by her stepfather and the remaining 3/4 of the book immerse us in Ashely's beginning healing process and the healing process of other teens with an assortment of different painful life issues to face. You could have made the book 1/2 abuse and 1/2 recovery. Or you could have done 1/4 Ashley's abuse and 3/4 only about Ashley's recovery (without the other subplots involving the new adults and teens that entered her world). Talk to us a little bit about how the structure ties into the themes of the book.

In creating the sub-plots, I was guided by this idea: "Nobody gets out of this life without a scratch." Ashley spent her formative years living inside her own head, and becoming an expert at disconnecting at what is painful. It was important to me that Ashley be a witness to other people's struggles and pain, to see that courage comes in all forms, and that all of the victories are realized when the characters lived in the light of the truth. Thank you; I'm glad you liked the structure. I love each of those teenage characters as if they were my own children.

5. Ashley has to deal with not only an abusive stepfather but also a mother who does not believe her when she reports the abuse. I know this happens frequently in real life. Can you share with my readers what you've learned about how someone can cope with this horrible situation of additional betrayal?

I've learned that it takes hard work, time, the guidance of a skilled therapist, the unconditional love I find in my support system of my husband and daughters.. and that there are days that it still hurts like hell.

6. I was glad that you did not try to have Ashley wholly healed in the three month period of her healing journey that we read about. Healing is a rewarding but slow journey for abuse survivors. What encouragement would you share with readers who are currently stepping out of denial and seeking healing for their battered hearts? What would you say to the reader who has already spent years working through healing issues but still struggles sometimes?

I am glad you appreciated that there is not an altogether "happy" ending-- but rather a hopeful ending. And, I'm working on the sequel to Courage in Patience now- it's called Hope in Patience. I agree with you-- healing IS slow. For those just starting on the path, I would say, "Hold on for the ride of your life." My therapist described recovery from sexual abuse to me in a few ways. One was, "It's like a rollercoaster." Another was, "It's like walking, barefoot, from Texas to Alaska and back again." And, "It's like a walk through hell." I think most people who have been working at it for a while would agree that it feels like all three of those at once sometimes, and other times just one. It's NOT easy. It should be undertaken with the guidance of a competent therapist. You may not stick with the first therapist you find. And your journey may have stops and starts. Mine did. It was only when my life came to a critical point that I undertook the task and did not look back.
A strong support system helps immeasurably. There are going to be times that you feel very alone. But you're not. And that's a big message I'm trying to send with this book. With regard to people who are still working through the pain and still struggle-- well, join the club. As Bev, Ashley's stepmom says, "The side effects of sexual abuse are kind of like chemotherapy. You're going to have good days and bad days."

7. You address self-injury desires and suicidal thoughts in your novel. What would you like to say to my blog readers who struggle with one or both of these issues?

From what I have learned, the desire to injure yourself and the suicidal thoughts are quite common for people who were sexually abused. But you don't have to act on them. I cannot stress enough the importance of working with a competent mental health professional. Don't try to be your own brain surgeon. This is too important an effort to try to do it, armed with just a self-help book.

8. Courage in Patience includes some ugly portraits of hypocritical, judgemental, and unkind Christians. It is such a travesty when any religion is twisted and misused to abuse others. It leaves deep scars. I enjoyed reading that ZZ's grandmother, who urges mature and compassionate responses to the horrors of racism, carried her Bible into a meeting populated by a misguided group of people being led by a corrupt preacher. Would you like to share something about how faith can be a help or a hinderance in journey of healing from abuse?

I don't really have much to say on the subject, other than that some of the worst advice I got when I was in my early 20s and trying to start to deal with my "stuff" was given me by a person in a counseling center run out of a church. The advice was "Count your blessings" and "Forgive your abuser." I had not even started to deal with this stuff and I was being told to forgive? Unlike a lot of people, I do NOT believe that forgiveness of the people who were supposed to love and protect a child but did not is necessary for healing to occur. So, I guess I would say, anyone who tries to make that kind of forgiveness into some kind of litmus test for who's going to heaven (or not)-- is twisting religious faith into a toxic thing.

9. What tool has helped you the most so far in your own healing journey? Is it something that is included in the novel?

Writing has helped me the most, along with a very talented therapist who, along with my husband and daughters, make up what I call my ROCK.

10. Near the end of the book a character says, "I think there are a lot of us [those who were sexually abused as a child] in the world, a lot more than people want to believe. Nobody wants to think that adults force sex on children." What final thoughts would you like to share with those who have carried the shame and fear of sexual abuse and incest?

Even though it may not seem like it right now, you are not alone.

Telling

2008-09-01T00:01:00.002-05:00

Today, my debut novel, Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse, releases from Kunati Books.
Today is both gratifying and terrifying. Why terrifying?
Because it's "telling."

Even though Courage in Patience is not an autobiography or a memoir, it's "telling." It's drawing back the curtain and revealing what it's like to be in that place-- you know: THAT place.
Way back in January, when I filled out a sixteen-page biography for my publisher, I was adamant that I did not want to talk about my own experiences as a survivor. In fact, in my official bio-- the one on the back of my book-- it says that I "drew on my experience working with abused children as an English teacher in writing Courage in Patience," and that I "wrote Courage in Patience to give hope to survivors of abuse."

I read that now and feel ashamed that I was hiding behind my day job as a teacher. I spent thirty-odd years of my life in hiding of one sort or another, and my natural tendency is still to head for a small dark place (even if it's inside my own head), when I am overwhelmed and not remembering the "basics" that keep me sane, or at least the approximation of sanity that I represent most of the time.

"Drew on my experience working with abused children…" ?
Well, I can say for a fact that I have taught abused children over the years. I teach 'em every year. It's an epidemic created by shame and secrecy, and it's not going away anytime soon, sadly. In my capacity as a teacher, I have tried to stop it and I continue to try to stop it but the sad truth is that as long as families and society continue to foster a climate of lies, child abuse will continue. It thrives in lies. I know I'm not telling any of you anything new. If you're reading this page, if you're on this site, you're likely aware of child abuse in one way or another. Aren't we all?
My bio wasn't fooling anybody. And I have learned, as I have inched my way out of the shadows and into what is an increasingly growing area of public illumination, that even trying to conceal what I am-- for whatever personal reasons-- is futile. Anybody who has been in-- you know-- THAT place-- can read the story of Ashley, the protagonist of Courage in Patience, and know without a doubt that the person who brought her to life has experienced sexual abuse first-hand.
My ultimate goal is that readers will also be able to tell that there is hope for all of us-- yes, sexual abuse survivors--but-- for ALL of us who have to face what scares us most and find out what we are made of in the process.
Ashley is guided by a very skilled therapist who insists to her that she can and must come out of hiding in the closet-- the real one in her bedroom, and the figurative one in her mind. As Ashley tiptoes hesitantly toward the light beyond the door in her mind, she is supported by her biological father and his wife, a survivor of sexual abuse herself-- one who has made it through the treacherous mountain passes of recovery and can say, "You can make it. Keep going. Don't give up." That is the message I hope to give readers of Courage in Patience.

Steady on.

Of burning diaries, facing fears, and coming out the other side

2008-08-31T18:51:00.001-05:00

September 1, 2008, is a big day for me, both as an author and as a survivor of childhood sexual abuse. The process of recovery from what I endured has been compared to a barefoot walk from Texas to Alaska - and back. So many times on this trip from what and who I used to be to what and who I have become at this point, I have pictured myself standing on a mountaintop, looking back at how far I have come. It is fitting that on the eve of the official release of Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse, I feel a sense of accomplishment, for the progress I have made in my own recovery, and for writing a book like Courage in Patience.
I first wrote about what's it like to be sexually abused at the age of nine years old, when I confided in my diary about a family member fondling my just-developing breasts. I had to tell someone, but I was too filled with shame and embarrassment to speak it aloud.
Instead, I wrote the words in my diary and hid the book deep within a box in the back of my closet. I remember coming upon the diary when I was a teenager, and, horrified at seeing what seemed to me to be a confession of my guilt written in my childish handwriting, I burned the diary in our brick fireplace when no one else was home.
Terrified that a family member would return home and question why I used the fireplace in the middle of a sizzling Texas summer, I opened all the windows and rolled our sliding-glass door back-and-forth, back-and-forth on its track, telling myself that I was somehow hastening the clearing away of the evidence. I scooped the ashes out while they were still hot and dumped them in the flower bed, then swept the dust out of the hearth.
Just recalling the memory makes my heart race; I remember a deep sense of relief that the shame-filled words were destroyed. I had moved the diary, deep within that cardboard box, from the house I lived in when the abuse began, to the house I spent my teenage years in, always keeping it hidden in the back of my closet, out of view, as if that made what was happening to me less real.
I didn't write about the abuse again for nearly thirty years, when I entered therapy for recovery from that same family member sexually abusing me for the majority of my childhood, into my teen years. Then, like the Thompson River Flood in Estes Park, Colorado, an historic, notorious flood of such wide-ranging devastation that songs have been written about it-- the grief, pain, shame, and rage came pouring forth from the young child I had been when that flood occurred, in 1976. There was just no stopping it, any more than turning my diary to ashes could cause what had happened to me to NOT affect me for a lifetime.
During a therapy session one day, my psychologist suggested that I try writing a novel. It took me about four months of stopping-and-starting. Inevitably, it seemed, what started as a promising beginning kept dissolving into "Why did this happen to me?"-- and there is no satisfying answer to that question. I realized that if I was going to be able to write my way through the experience of being sexually abused, I needed to do it from the perspective of being an observer of someone else's experience.
When I gave myself permission to do that, Ashley Nicole Asher, age fifteen, came into being. Abused by her stepfather since the age of nine, Ashley is driven by rage to tell her mother what he has been doing to her. To her horror, Ashley's mother turns her back on her, and does not act on Ashley's report.
Ashley then confides in the only adult she can trust, a beloved teacher, who reports the abuse to Child Protective Services. CPS contacts her biological father, David, whom Ashley has had no contact with throughout her childhood. It is when David takes Ashley home with him to the tiny East Texas town of Patience that Ashley's life begins anew.
Courage in Patience is a story of hope. Initially, I wrote it for myself, to prove to myself that I was going to make it through the darkest days of recovery and come out stronger on the other side. I gave Ashley a circle of friends in her stepmother's summer school English class, and through knowing them, Ashley discovers that, as a good friend of mine says, "Nobody gets out of this life without a scratch."
With the publication of Courage in Patience, I hope that those who read it will find a story of what it means to face one's greatest fears and find out what one is made of.

Dancing Above the Fear

2008-08-19T06:59:00.001-05:00

The first copy of my book, Courage in Patience, arrived on my doorstep yesterday. I arrived home to find it standing up on the end of our kitchen counter, where my husband had placed it. "It's BEEEEEEE-UUUUUUU-Ti-Ful!" I said, then I picked it up and held it close. Then I danced around, jumped up and down a bunch, and generally convinced my dogs that I am, indeed, crazy.Getting to this point has not been without a sense of trepidation that trips me up ever so often. Had I allowed it to invade my thoughts as I danced around with the first copy of Courage in Patience that I've ever held in my hands, I suppose I might have fallen flat on my face.

You see, my book is "Telling." Courage in Patience is the story of Ashley, age 15, who has been sexually abused by her stepfather since age 9. When she finally works up the courage to tell her mother what has been going on, her mother turns her back on her, refusing to hear what she is saying. Even though Courage in Patience is not an autobiography or memoir, it is "Telling." And fellow survivors of sexual abuse, no matter what age they are, will identify with what I am saying here. "Telling" is excruciating. It feels like betrayal, which, I know, I know, is really ironic, seeing as how a child having her innocence stolen by a family member is the real betrayal.

Courage in Patience, though, is more-- much more-- than telling. It is a story of hope, not just for survivors of sexual abuse, but for anyone who has ever had to face their greatest fears and find out what they are made of.It is that-- that HOPE-- that lifted me off the ground yesterday, high above my fears and scars-- and danced me across my kitchen.

Beth Fehlbaum, author
Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse
http://courageinpatience.blogspot.com
Chapter 1 is online!

Angels That Care features Courage in Patience

2008-08-15T05:26:00.001-05:00

Thanks to Marcia of Angels That Care!

http://www.angelsthatcare.org/Courage_in-Patience.html

Per the Norm, Mainstream Media Gets It Wrong On Rape

2008-08-12T22:22:00.001-05:00

Melissa McEwan of Shakesville on "lol your ugly ":

"So there's this woman, Bernann McKinney, who was recently in the news for paying to have five puppies cloned from her dearly departed pet pit bull. Thing is, she is likely the same person as a woman known as Joyce McKinney, who is a fugitive alleged to have kidnapped and raped a man 31 years ago."

"The AP is trying to unravel the whole story (and engaging in their usual disgraceful habit of euphemizing rape: "[I]investigators say he was repeatedly forced to have sex with McKinney before he was able to escape and notify police"), and reveal Joyce McKinney to be a deeply disturbed and dangerous woman who is not only an alleged kidnapper and rapist, but an alleged stalker and repeat criminal who seems to wreak havoc upon other people wherever she goes."

Sex is not rape. Rape is not sex. Rape is a violation of one's sovereignty over their own body and an assault on the emotions and psyche of the person victimized in the process. It is not simply "forced sex."

According to the Associated Press, James Stamey, husband of the woman McKinney is alleged to have stalked and threatened said, "She's ugly as sin now" in reference to McKinney's alleged former good looks.

McEwan goes on to point out:

"what every sophisticated and intelligent news reader wants to know about any woman at the center of any news story is whether she's fuckable."

While I could care less about Ms. McKinney's feelings about being called ugly (the same as a I would for a male rapist) or her physical appearance, I am disgusted at the AP for both making it about her looks and trivializing this rapist's actions by describing it as "he was repeatedly forced to have sex".

When you force someone, that person is not engaged in sex. That person is being raped, regardless of legalistic attempts to make it seem like some women cannot be miserable, disgusting, horrible, worthless, rapist scum.

Ann of Feministing comments further on the issue outlining some of TIME's offensive idiocy with regard to this case:

Defines an act of sexual assault as a "sex scandal." The headline should read "Cloner dogged by sexual assault." A sex scandal is what John Edwards is experiencing right now, in the wake of his consensual affair. It is distinct from sexual assault, which is what Time is talking about in this article.
Uses the phrase "had sex with" in lieu of "raped" or "assaulted." (We've discussed this before...)
Perpetuates the totally false idea that because the victim did not try to escape, that means the act was consensual. (Cara has written about this a lot.)
Names the victim.

It is not a joke. It is not funny. It is not a "sex scandal."

It is rape - PERIOD. The shaming and re-victimization directed at all rape survivors who speak out is disgusting, inhumane and quite telling about the true nature of the individual participating in such. And I know firsthand just how hard it can be to read it. The mixture of pain, shame, anger, rage and embarrassment at being ridiculed, emasculated, laughed at and told you "must have wanted it" was overpowering when I first told my story. It is still hard to read the hateful remarks a month later.

So, from a male rape survivor of a female rapist, thanks again to Melissa and Ann. You both got it right and I'm grateful that at least two more people have not bought into the sexist social programming that labels all men as walking penises, incapable of offering consent or feeling violation.

Related Links:

Shakesville - lol your ugly: http://shakespearessister.blogspot.com/2008/08/lol-your-ugly.html
Feministing - TIME conflates sex with rape: http://www.feministing.com/archives/010283.html

This entry originally posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3202/79/

Courage in Patience featured on therapist's blog

2008-08-04T13:46:00.001-05:00

Gudrun Frerichs, Ph.D., featured Courage in Patience on her blog.

Dr. Gudrun Frerichs is the Director and founder of Psychological Resolutions Ltd. She helps care-professionals and care-organisations increase team performance and service delivery through advanced skills in personal and professional relationships. She is a trainer, psychotherapist, researcher, and speaker covering the field of making positive changes and transforming relationships through self understanding, understanding of others, and advanced communication skills.Dr. Frerichs has researched how systems affect individuals through her PhD in Health & Environmental Sciences, and investigated how severely traumatised clients handle therapy through her Master of Health Science (Hons.). She also holds a Diploma in Psychotherapy, a Certificate in Supervision, a Master Practitioner Certification in Neuro-Linguistic-Programming (NLP), and a Business Diploma.

Things this rape survivor could do without hearing again in life...

2008-07-30T09:50:00.006-05:00

As I've begun to unravel the tight ball of emotions related to my rape, I've been given a lot of advice, some good and some bad. Most of it is well-meaning, but not necessarily helpful. Below, I've listed a few of the most insensitive and/or clueless tidbits of advice. If you have said this to me, please understand that I'm not angry with you, nor am I trying to criticize you personally. This is posted in the hopes that someone else will learn from it when supporting a survivor in the future:

"There are people in the world who are worse off."

Yes there are, and? This is a nice way of saying "stop whining, it could have been worse." I've heard this one a few times myself. Processing the emotions related to a traumatic event is not necessarily made easier by comparing your situation to that of another person. Such my pain vs. your pain comparisons may even result in increasing the already unbearable guilt and shame on the part of the individual rape survivor, especially when compared to someone who was tortured or maimed. The survivor may also be made to feel like they should abandon their healing and go back to stuffing their emotions away until they erupt like a powderkeg ignited, lest they feel guilty for having natural, emotional repsonses to trauma. This is not helpful in the slightest. Please stop saying this to us.

"You need to put it behind you."

No kidding. By talking about it, venting it, analyzing it and releasing it, that is exactly what I am trying to do now. I didn't stub my toe, get in a fender-bender, or lose 5 grand gambling in Las Vegas. I was raped. It is not as easy to "put it behind" me as it might seem to a non-survivor. When someone says "put it behind you" what is really conveyed to me is their desire that I "shut up and deal." Sorry, but silence and denial is not dealing. I tried 17 years of silence. It didn't work. Healing is not as simple as "put it behind you." It is an ongoing process. Please, don't ask me to "put it behind me." I'll do that on my own and when I'm ready.

"Just think about what she must have gone through in her life to be able to do such a thing to you."

This one is normally said by well meaning friends who think it will help me "put it behind" me easier by seeing her as a victim as well. I'm sorry if I sound selfish, but I don't owe my rapist that consideration. She raped me and she didn't have to do it. I don't know if she was abused or not, nor do I care at this point in my healing. Maybe she was and maybe she wasn't. Or maybe she was just sadistic and opportunistic. It doesn't change the facts in the matter. Would you say the same thing to a woman who was raped by a man? I'm going to go out on a limb and say I doubt it. So why is it appropriate when a woman is the rapist?

"You're internalizing and buying into the victim culture."

The person saying this is completely clueless and believes that rape is not a traumatic experience. They may have even committed a rape in the past. This is not a person to be trusted. I don't recommend spending any time trying to educate such a person as they've already made up their mind that rape is not a big deal. They don't get it and don't want to get it - and they may be dangerous.

Please, feel free to add more to the comments below. I'd like to see this list get longer, more in-depth and republished as a collaborative effort with other survivors.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3192/79/

Publisher's Weekly Review of Courage in Patience

2008-07-28T10:15:00.001-05:00

Courage in Patience Beth Fehlbaum. Künati (IPG, dist.), $14.95 paper (352p) ISBN 978-1-60164-156-4
Fehlbaum's debut novel, set in a small Texas town, is overloaded with thorny issues and hindered by a “very special episode” tone, but features a genuine and empathetic lead. After enduring six years of sexual abuse from her step-father, 14-year-old Ashley Asher finally gathers the courage to confide in her mother; predictably, mom sides with step-dad. Soon, Ashley is sent to live with her estranged birth father, David, and his new wife and son. Though he's now a kind man who's put his life-long anger issues behind him, Ashley still struggles to trust her father. His wife, Bev, a high school English teacher, brings Ashley into her extended family of summer school students; a controversial reading assignment, Ironman by Chris Crutcher, provides the novel's other hot-button issues—racism, censorship, homophobia and religious extremism. An over-the-top scandal is followed by Bev's hokey, message-laden testimonial before the local school board. Throughout, Ashley's self-destructive tendencies, conflicted feelings and struggle with post-traumatic stress disorder read authentically; had Fehlbaum focused more on her recovery, rather than a raft of societal woes, this story would have been more powerful. (Sept.)

The Aftermath of Being Temporarily Owned By Another

2008-07-27T20:38:00.002-05:00

Another excellent posting from Cara at The Curvature on Explaining Rape :

The crime of rape is the imposition on another person’s body. The crime of rape is taking away another person’s right to make their own decisions, deciding what will and will not happen to their bodies. The crime of rape is failing to respect personal boundaries and enacting your will on another. The trauma of rape isn’t necessarily the physical pain; the trauma of rape is temporarily losing control of your own body and your own life. And as rape intends, many victims fail to realize that the control is temporary. The crime and trauma of rape is the assertion that a person’s autonomy can mean absolutely nothing to others and can be taken away. The crime of rape is its inherent intent to own another person.

(trigger warning)

The physical damage from that night I was raped was minimal - all though she could have done anything as I was not conscious during the vast majority of the period the rapes occurred.

The psychological damage, however, is still here. I’m so damned tired of hearing other men (who’ve not been raped or endured CSA) tell me that I’m just internalizing it and opting into the “victim culture” and should “let it go.” The same goes for women who tell me to suck it up or else I must be a “metrosexual” and expect me to adhere to bigoted gender stereotypes that promote the concept that all males want sex all the time from any woman willing to participate.

When I think about what she could have done to me without any ability on my part to stop her, I shudder. She could have maimed me. She could have given me HIV. She could have killed me.

When I remember little bits here and there like how she still insisted on me driving her home (as I had promised) and engaged in small talk like we could be friends - describing her S&M toys, I feel sick to my stomach.

When I’ve been cautioned during therapy that she may have raped me for 7 hours or more as one long rape rather than 2 separate attacks (as I awoke twice and just assumed they were 2 separate attacks), I want to scream at the top of my lungs. When I wonder what else she did during that time period, I want to put my fist through the wall.

I hurt. I have to process that. I have to feel it. I have to let it flow out.

I tried ignoring it. I tried denial. It doesn’t work. I’m so tired of being told that I have no right to feel what I’m feeling because she just gave me “freaky sex” and get asked what is “wrong with you” because all men fantasize about that. Of course, without my permission, while unconscious and a with very nasty threat to ensure my silence attached doesn’t qualify as sex in my book.

She took something from me that I didn’t offer to her. She took something I had no intention of offering her. She took something I hadn’t even given to my girlfriend at the time and never did as we eventually broke up, partially due to my own emotional distance following the rape.

Gee, what is wrong with me that I didn’t like all of that?

Links:

http://dayofblogs.thecurvature.com/2008/07/32-explaining-rape/

http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3177/1/

East Texas Author pens novel speaking out against abuse

2008-07-23T06:27:00.002-05:00

Lauren Keaton of the Tyler Morning Telegraph interviewed me for an author profile. Click here to read it.

Review of Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse

2008-07-19T20:12:00.001-05:00

This will appear in the Aug 1 issue of Booklist:

Advanced Review – Uncorrected Proof
Issue: August 1, 2008
Courage in Patience.
Fehlbaum, Beth (Author)
Sep 2008. 352 p. Kunati, hardcover, $14.95. (9781601641564) .
Nine-year-old Ashley Asher was pleased when her mother started a relationship with Charlie Baker. Charlie, Ashley thought, would be the father she never had. She was 9 then; now 15, she recounts the story of how her dream life soon turned to nightmare, commencing with the first time Charlie touched her inappropriately. For years she tolerated it—not only the sexual abuse but also the emotional manipulation her stepfather inflicted on her—until one day she confronted both Charlie and her mother.
To Ashley’s horror, her mother sided with Charlie, leaving the teenager to find her own way, prompting her to reestablish a connection with her biological father. Though the subject matter is undeniably dark, Fehlbaum manages to keep the tone surprisingly light and hopeful. This hard-hitting but readable story about an infinitely troubling subject will resonate with all readers but especially with other survivors of abuse or with those who work with those survivors.
— Mary Frances Wilkens

"Four Key Things I Learned About Recovery From Incest"

2008-07-18T20:37:00.000-05:00

A lady named Joy has a great site called Healing Stream for Survivors. She posted a very helpful article, "Four Key Things I Learned About Recovery From Incest". It's a very accurate portrayal of what the recovery process is often like. Joy was kind enough to allow me to post the link to her site: http://healingstreamforsurvivors.blogspot.com
Thanks, Joy! You are doing a wonderful service with your site

On Releasing Old Secrets

2008-07-16T14:41:00.002-05:00

It was very difficult to make the decision to share the story of my rape publicly. After all of this time in denial (which ended abruptly in early May), I no longer wanted to "own" it, if that makes sense. I knew that to accelerate my healing I had to do away with the secret in a manner that was final and irreversible. So, I did something that the beta male wannabes posting on the PajamasMedia thread of Dr. Helen's article could never muster the courage to do if in my own position - I committed to telling my secret publicly and thoroughly. That was extremely hard and I spent many hours pondering it, but once committed, I felt better about it and the shame of secrecy is now gone. No lying, no pretending, no ignoring, no silence.

I won’t lie. Reading the early responses at PJM really tore me up. I was emotionally fragile and went off a few times in response as the trolls and asshats baited me in. In retrospect I should have only responded once and then let it go. As a result of reading that thread, I spent Monday and Tuesday of that week in panic attacks and painful muscle tension from the resultant anxiety. By Wednesday I had worked through it and felt better about my decision to go public.

I’ve heard from several survivors who hope to someday feel strong enough to tell their own story publicly and I read several very supportive blog entries linking either to my website or Dr. Helen's article. No matter how often I read or hear supportive remarks, they always help.

I’ve been publishing online for 11 years and blogging for 6 years, so I have a thick enough skin to have weathered denial-of-service attacks, death threats, defamation, an organized group of cyber vigilantes, a cyber-stalker, etc. However, dealing with the initial onslaught of hatred, mockery, emasculation and outright victim-blaming opened up a whole new level of How-Do-I-Cope for me.

So, how do I cope? I cope by knowing that someone, somewhere got a little strength reading about my experience. I cope by knowing that someone, somewhere no longer feels alone. I cope by knowing that someone, somewhere, knows that they are not going crazy.

And that, makes it worth it for me.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3173/79/

Getting It Right on Raped Males

2008-07-13T15:22:00.005-05:00

An excellent blog posting by John Markley at The Superfluous Man on Cheerleading for rapists:

The public’s attitude towards men raped by other men (in prison or otherwise) is almost uniformly dreadful; raped men are either a punch line or objects of contempt, to the extent they are acknowledged at all. This is not surprising, since many supporters of both traditionalist/patriarchal sex roles and many supporters of feminism have an interest in ignoring, denying, or belittling the issue. Well, the attitude towards victims of female-on-male rape actually manages the difficult feat of being worse.

I want to thank John for treating my experience with dignity and respect - so thank you John. You can read the rest here.

This entry also posted at: http://jameslandrith.com/content/view/3171/79/

Introduction - James Landrith

2008-07-06T13:48:00.003-05:00

As I am a new blogger here, I'll begin with an introduction. I've been an internet publisher since 1997, a blogger since June 2002, a husband since 1993, a son since 1970, a step-father since 1993 and a father since 1997.

I am also a male rape survivor of a female rapist. I am not a woman-basher. I am not filled with misogynist hate. I am simply a statistic that many people wish to ignore or mock.

I recently published my story online in hopes that another man would seek help sooner than I did. I waited 17 years to acknowledge the circumstances of my rape and started seeing a therapist soon after I was finally able to admit to myself what had happened to me all those years ago.

Upon the publication of my experience, I was subsequently mocked, taunted, called a liar, had my manhood questioned and even threatened if I did not shut up.

Wow. And for the record, the worst offenders were from both genders.

They've failed to silence me and they've failed to intimidate me. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not going to shut up to make the troglodytes feel better about themselves. I'm in this for the long-term and I'm not going to be sheepish or scared just because some idiots think that men being raped women is funny and cute.

I just hope that another man or woman victimized by a female predator has the courage to admit what happened to them as a result, rather than being intimidated into silence by the mindless mob. I've been beaten up pretty badly since going public with my experience. I expected such abuse. I'm not going anywhere and I'm not shutting up so that they can go back to pretending this doesn't happen. I'm going to continue to be an inconvenient voice about this topic - and I know you wouldn't expect any less from me.

Poem by a woman whose friend was raped (Powerful!)

2008-06-28T19:56:00.002-05:00

DON’T WRITE A POEM ABOUT RAPE
by Julie Buffaloe-Yoder (Reprinted here with Julie's permission. Thanks, Julie!)
For the editor who told me rape is not a fresh subject (he knows who he is).
Rape is a cliché.
Unless it happens to you.
But don’t write a poem about it
or the editor might say
it’s just not fresh.
Rape is not fresh.
It’s been done too much.
It’s too emotional, confessional.
There are too many words.
People are not shocked anymore.

Don’t write a poem about it
especially if you were in the dark
university parking lot, a little more than tipsy,
and he forced you into his car with a gun.
Dark parking lots and guns are so overdone!
Don’t write a poem about it
especially if the digital time on his dash
was 12:00. It’s too much like the Twilight Zone
especially if those stiff red numbers
still ring in your brain sometimes
when you’re in the grocery line
and you drop everything you got, and the tomatoes
and the peaches, and the can of cream corn
go rolling down the aisle.

Don’t say he drove you down a dead end road.
Don’t tell how he bent your fingers back,
slammed them with the door over and over.
How heavy-handed can you get?
Don’t tell how he took the right to bare your arms,
your legs, your goose-bumpy little nipples,
and when he ripped your shirt in loud red shreds
you were trite enough to worry
what people would think about you.

For God’s sake, don’t say you were a virgin.
Honey, save it for the Movie of the Week.
Don’t tell about the fistfuls
of sand and gravel in your open mouth,
your open face, up your open legs.
It’s just not fresh.
Maybe try a different point of view.

Don’t tell how he held the gun so tenderly
in your ear, under your tongue,
deep inside the stretched-out skin
of your nostril, and you could smell the click
as he cocked it, and you could taste the click
in your throat as he made you call him Lord.
With the right music, it might work for a porno flick
but not for a literary journal.

Don’t tell how you looked up at the full moon
with its mouth torn into a little o
as you waited for it to be over.
Don’t you know the moon is overused?
And there are inconsistencies if you say
you almost laughed out loud
cause you were a stupid little twit who thought
who actually believed the first time would be romantic.

Don’t write a poem about it. Just don’t.
Especially if you went crazy when it didn’t end
and the only defense you had was to black out
and dream the damnedest dreams about a book
you used to have when you were a girl
and you dreamed a little song about the silvery moon,
the moon on the breast of the new fallen road
the Carolina moon that kept shining, shining,
shining on the one who’s raping you.
And when you woke up, it wasn’t over
but the Goodnight Moon was gone,
and you saw an old woman in the distance
come out on her porch to hear
what all the Hell raising was about,
turn out the light and go back inside
and you might’ve thought Good Night
to the Old Lady Whispering Hush,
but that’s too obvious, and anyway
we’ve heard that story before.

Don’t say he dragged you down the road by your hair,
the gravel chewing your back to bits.
Good Night Bowl of Mush, it’s just
the caveman syndrome. Get over it.
We’re sick of wenchy women poets
who are always bashing men.

And the part where he was gentleman enough
to drive you back to your dorm
just doesn’t fit the character.
Don’t say he told you he’d kill you if you breathed
a word, then asked your forgiveness, told you
not to worry and go get some sleep.
Would he really say that?

Don’t say he drove off in a limp line of smoke
as the sun came blinking over the horizon
and you staggered and puked your way back to your room,
knowing you wouldn’t make it to Psychology class that day.
Don’t talk about the guilt for not turning him in.
Take your ass to a talk show or a support group or a priest,
stop throwing the reader around.

Don’t tell the never ending end
of your whiny little poem. Get a grip.
Especially if your roommate laughed and said
Why would anybody want to rape you?
And the counselor said you’ve got to take control
of your life, and your boyfriend tried to understand
why even his understanding would never be enough,
why even his softest fingertips would always be too much.
So you drank yourself into a quiet rage
and now six years later it’s backed up in a corner
of your throat, bristling, sideways, ready to lunge
at the thickest, closest, slickest, hardest vein.

Nobody wants to hear about it anymore.
And the editor doesn’t care that
you’ve already cut half the words
and many of the details.
It’s still too sprawling, too baggy,
too talky, not fresh.
Go tell it to Ginsberg, we’ve
got a comma to perfect.

But if you’re that damned stubborn, go ahead.
You’ll write the poem alone
and it’ll live in a junk drawer
swelling up like a belly
under a pink pile of rejection.
Serves you right.
So stop acting like a bitchy female poet.
It just won’t work. It’s just not fresh.

Death Penalty for Child Rapists...Inhumane?

2008-06-25T20:41:00.001-05:00

Today, a good friend e-mailed me about the decision of the U.S. Supreme Court to declare the death penalty for child rapists "unconstitutional", because they find it "cruel and unusual" to kill someone for raping a child. One of the prisoners whose death penalty was set aside as a result of the decision had received the sentence for raping his eight-year-old stepdaughter. At first, my reaction to my friend's news was, "Isn't that the most F-d up thing you've ever heard? I can't believe they're not going to kill those monsters!"

But then, I realized something-- and it surprises me as much as it would surprise most people who know me, because when it comes to children being abused, I am an emotionally-charged loud-mouth. I'm a teacher in my day job, and I consider myself not only their educator, but their advocate, as well. Ask anybody I work with, and they'll confirm that I am one of those Mama-type teachers who loves her students-- who truly, deeply, cares about KIDS. Thing is, I get steamed when I hear about ANY child being abused, because I know what it's like to be in the position of victim. I know what it's like to be waiting for the dawn.

That's part of what makes me such a pissed-off person. Language that would make a sailor blush comes pouring forth from my mouth when I even think about the kind of people who are able to live with themselves day-after-day, knowing what they have done or are doing to children whose innocence they have stolen. They just, quite simply, don't give a shit. It's that simple.

So, how pissed off am I that the Supreme Court knocked the legs out from under the state of Louisiana's right to kill unredeemable people? Well... I'm not sure how I feel about it, and I told my friend just that, in a follow-up e-mail to my profanity-laced first-response.

See, I live in Texas-- and, if you pay any attention to the death penalty, you know that Texas has a track record of executing a lot of people. Our esteemed (cough-cough-- sorry, I threw up in my mouth a little bit) president, "Duh-B-Ya", started the execution-ball rolling to the extent it does, when he was inflicting his inadequate leadership skills only on Texas, instead of the U.S.A. and the World. (Sorry, World. I didn't vote for him, if that makes you any less disgusted that I am a Texan.)

I love my state. It's a cool place to live. But not because of the death penalty. It's not something I'm proud of, because, frankly, Texas is so bad at making sure that only those who are guilty get executed. That's why I am grateful that things like The Innocence Project exist.

As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, my rage toward my perpetrator cannot be adequately expressed with something as impersonal as a blog. To even attempt to put it in the context of a blog-- of someone just happening upon a blog entry and reading all about my rage-- would trivialize the depth of the scars I bear. I am telling you that so you will understand just how completely the death of my perpetrator would not break my heart. Got that? Moving on.
The problem I have with the death penalty is the number of people who are convicted, then end up being found innocent through DNA testing. I mean, is there a way that a death sentence-- that is, a person being found guilty and sentenced to death-- could be absolutely fool-proof? Error-proof? Human-proof?

Er, well, not as long as there are humans in charge of figuring it all out, huh?

So, where is the justice for people who have been sexually abused? That's a question I am addressing in the sequel to Courage in Patience, a story of hope for those who have endured abuse. Hope in Patience will try to figure that out-- but here's what I know so far: justice for children who are raped or sexually abused is not going to be found in a court of law. It's just not.
Mm--m--m--m--maybe the Supreme Court is right in striking down the death penalty in this case-- but, to be honest with you, I think it needs to be struck down in any case-- (again, I'm just as surprised as you, to see those words coming up on my screen, with my fingers at the keyboard)-- -until we can have an absolute guarantee that the person found guilty was absolutely the guilty party.

"But it's a deterrent!" people will say.
I seriously doubt that having the death penalty hanging over his head will make even one perpetrator think twice. That would require caring. And, frankly, in my experience, that's just not something those type of people are good at.

Get inspired: One Person Can Make a Difference

2008-05-28T17:14:00.007-05:00

Surviving is a whole lot easier when you have the support of people like Attorney Dawn V. Martin. I have been asked why Attorney Martin's case against Howard University means so much to me and to the many women who are reading and posting to my blogs.
The answer is simple- A person living today in the United States of America- man or woman should not have to choose between their personal safety at the workplace and their livelihood.

It is easy to be a "bystander" and fall prey to the "it cant or won't happen to me syndrome" that many of us have but sadly yes bad things do happen to good people and often.

I was relentlessly pursued by a violent abuser at my place of work on more than one occasion- and later I was terminated. I know how it feels to live in fear and how difficult it is becoming a "survivor".

When a person can't make ends meet it can be devastating- even more devastating is when the person is overcoming obstacles created by a violent offender that should not be there.

It is time for the good guys to have the upper hand especially pertaining to matters of violence in the workplace- Dawn V. Martin is tackling this issue head on! BRAVO!

My hope is that Legal Momentum, NOW, Women's organizations, crime victim's organizations and the thousands of National Coalitions will unite in support of this case as it will set precedent for years to come in our nation. Violence in the workplace should not be tolerated and criminals this includes stalkers -should not have the upper hand!

Please support the efforts of Attorney Dawn V. Martin by making a donation of your time, treasure or talent!

One Person can make a difference!

Below is Attorney Martin's latest press release & Call to Action: The case is making its way to the United States Supreme Court!
###

PRESS RELEASE: May 22, 2008
Contact: Law Offices of Dawn V. Martin e-mail: dvmartinlaw@yahoo.com
(202) 408-7040; (703) 642-0207 website: http://www.dvmartinlaw.com/

Law Professor will ask the U.S. Supreme Court to Reverse Decision Holding that a Woman Can be Fired for being Stalked by a Stranger Roaming Freely through her Workplace

Washington, D.C. – On March 31, 2008, the United States Court of Appeals for the D.C. Circuit, Judges Edwards, Henderson and Williams, decided the appeal of Martin v. Howard University, 1999 U.S. Dist. LEXIS 19516, 1999 WL 1295339; 81 Fair Empl. Prac. Cas. (BNA) 964; 15 I.E.R. Cas. (BNA) 1587 (D.D.C. 1999). Prof. Dawn V. Martin was harassed by a serial campus stalker. Her contract was “not renewed” after she asked the university to implement its own security procedures to bar the stalker from the law school.

During oral argument, on March 17, 2008, Ms. Martin told the Court: “The precedent set by this Court will determine how employers and educational institutions will respond to stalking and other types of workplace and campus violence – particularly when it is directed against women. If a woman can be stalked in her workplace, and fired for asking her employer to take reasonable steps to keep him out of the workplace, then women will be forced to choose between their safety and their livelihood – a Hobson’s choice.”

Less than two weeks later, in an unpublished decision by the three-judge panel, the Court squarely placed women in the position of choosing between their jobs and their safety, if they are stalked at work. The serial campus stalker only knew that Prof. Martin existed because he roamed through her workplace freely, prowling for a female professor who fit his fantasy concept of a “wife.” This delusional, homeless man, Leonard Harrison, had been targeting women of color, at Universities since the mid-1980s. Harrison had his own vision of his “natural wife,” or “soul-mate,” whom he believed was the physical embodiment of a fictional character, Geneva Crenshaw, in a book, written by the renowned NYU law professor, Derrick Bell.

Ms. Martin asked the entire Court to review the Panel decision, but no judge called for a vote on the case, so her request was denied. Ms. Martin said: “The only hope for reversal now is to go to the United States Supreme Court. I am looking for groups that are willing to come together to file a joint Amicus Brief at the Supreme Court level.” Groups interested in providing support should contact Ms. Martin at dvmartinlaw@yahoo.com.

In 1999, the federal district court set precedent in Martin by adopting the EEOC Regulation 29 CFR 1604.11(e), holding that an employer can be held liable for the sexual harassment of an employee, by a non-employee, if the employer knew or should have known of the harassment and failed to take reasonable steps to stop it. Howard asked the Court to reverse this decision and invalidate the EEOC Regulation. The Court of Appeals did not address Howard’s argument, or otherwise discuss the lower court’s holding on how employers should address non-employee harassment of employees.

Martin is the first case considering the concept of “gender profiling” in employment, under Title VII of the Civil Rights Act of 1964, which prohibits discrimination on the basis of sex. The National Association of Women Lawyers (NAWL), as Amicus Curiae filed a Brief supporting Martin. Ms. Martin said, “In 1999, the district court judge said that it was ‘clear’ that Harrison harassed me based on my sex –but seven years later, after all of the evidence was presented at trial, the same judge suddenly submitted the question to the jury. The jurors were clearly confused on the law. They asked the court to give them additional instruction on the definition of sexual harassment, but the judge would not provide it. Based on what they understood the law to be, the jurors concluded that Harrison’ stalking was not sexual in nature or based on my gender. That meant that there is no statute to protect me from being stalked in my workplace from being fired for reporting it.”

The Court of Appeals held that Ms. Martin misinterpreted Judge Hogan’s 1999 decision; however, on October 20, 2003, Magistrate Judge Facciola, to whom Judge Hogan referred the case, specifically detailed what issues were decided in 1999 and would not be “triable issues of fact” for the jury and what issues would proceed to a jury at trial. The Court of Appeals discounted MJ Facciola’s interpretation of Judge Hogan’s decision, stating that he could not overrule Judge Hogan; however, as Ms. Martin stressed in her Brief, Reply Brief and oral argument, Judge Hogan adopted Judge Facciola’s decision as his own, on September 16, 2005.

The district court also held that “groping” and “touching” are “typical” indicia of sexual harassment cases and that since Harrison did not touch Prof. Martin, the jury had reason to find that she was not sexually harassed.” The Court of Appeals did not address this issue. Since it has not been overturned, this precedent set by this decision arguably requires that a woman to be assaulted in order to establish that she was sexually harassed in her workplace.

The Court of Appeals also held that because, on one occasion in 1990, Harrison threatened Prof Bell, this was enough to defeat Ms. Martin’s claim that Harrison harassed her because of her gender; however, Ms. Martin repeatedly pointed out that Harrison did not stalk Prof.
Bell. The legal definition of “stalking” requires repeated acts of harassment directed toward the same victim. Harrison contacted Prof. Bell on only one occasion, and then only to solicit his assistance in identifying the next woman he would stalk -- any woman that he believed might be the “model” for “Geneva Crenshaw.” Ms. Martin said, “Howard’s argument is like saying that John Hinckley did not sexually harass Jodie Foster when he stalked her because he also attempted to kill President Reagan. The fact that a sexually harassing stalker may also have committed a violent act against a man in his lifetime does not negate the fact that he sexually harassed a woman in another setting.”

Martin also presented issues regarding actionable retaliation under Title VII, but the Court of Appeals deemed these issues moot. Since the Court determined that Howard was free to commit any retaliatory act against Prof. Martin for being stalked, with no Title VII penalty, the lower court’s definition of acts that constitute actionable retaliation under Title VII was irrelevant to this case; however, the Court of Appeals’ failure to reverse the lower court on this issue leaves the lower court’s precedent intact: an employer may leave positions unfilled, cancel vacancies and/or convert advertised positions to positions for which an applicant is not the best qualified, even where it is done to prevent the most qualified applicant from being hired, in retaliation for reporting sexual harassment – or any other EEO violation, whether based on race, national origin, religion, ethnicity, age or disability.

Ms. Martin also asked the Court to define the circumstances under which Title VII plaintiffs can be ordered to pay the litigation costs of the defendant. The National Organization of Women (NOW) recently ran a campaign protesting the 11th Circuit’s assessment of costs against the plaintiff in Ledbetter v. Goodyear, after the Supreme Court ruled against her in her sex discrimination claim. Such assessments unfairly punish women who file sex discrimination lawsuits, in good faith, in the public interest. The Court declined to address
this issue.

The Court of Appeals also did not explain why Dean Alice Gresham Bullock’s perjury does not require vacating the verdict. In a July 1, 1999 memorandum to Howard’s General Counsel, Bullock admitted that she perceived Harrison as a threat to Prof. Martin and “other women” on campus; yet, at trial, she testified that she never perceived Harrison’s
harassment as sexual harassment, or harassment based on sex/gender. Martin said.

“Neither Howard nor her own personal counsel has denied that she committed perjury. Alice Gresham Bullock created ten years of contentious and expensive litigation for both sides. She has caused ten years of suffering for my family and me. We will never get
those years back -- the years that I was raising my daughter. This could all have been avoided if she had simply followed the university’s own security procedures and barred Harrison from the law school rather than devoting her efforts to removing me from the law school.” Briefs are uploaded onto http://www.dvmartinlaw.com/MartinvHowardU.html).

You may also hear radio interviews about the case at that cite.
Dawn V. Martin, Esquire

Law Offices of Dawn V. Martin, LLC
1725 I Street, N.W., Suite 300
Washington, D.C 20006
(202) 408-7040 D.C. phone (703) 642-0207
home office(703) 642-0208 facsimile
DVMARTINLAW@yahoo.com
http://www.dvmartinlaw.com/

Ghetto Confessions

2008-05-19T23:06:00.004-05:00

I haven’t written in a while so I decided to just sit down and write. “This is my lunch hour,” I said, “and I’m gonna use it to write.” So I sat at my desk and opened up Microsoft Word. I guess it was foolish to simply expect words to emanate from my fingers like bolts of lighting from the hands of a wizard, but I waited anyway.
A few minutes later, I decided to try something else. I should choose a topic and then write. After all, the world could use another short essay on... whatever inspiration moved me to expound upon. But even after waiting (not so patiently,) for several minutes, I remained topic-less and uninspired. This was not good. But I wasn’t about to panic. After all, I’m a professional writer; a published author, recognized by my pears and acclaimed by loyal fans. This was sure to be a simple problem with a solution that would seem obvious, once I finally found it.
So what’s the problem? As I sat there a little confused and more worried than I feel comfortable admitting, it started to dawn on me. Blogging has always been about me looking inward and expressing what I saw, outward to the world. Since the publication of my book, my entire focus has changed. It didn’t happen at any specific moment in time and it actually started well before the publication, but my life has become about others. Their problems, their concerns, their pain, and their struggles. So now when I sit to write, the images that come to mind are those of others.

I see images of a young girl growing up in the projects, being abused, raped, and degraded, first by her father, then by her step-father, and later by her mother’s boyfriend. I see her pride destroyed under the boot-heel of one selfish prick after another who use her as a human toilet. “I was the project ho” she admits to me in a voice heavy-laden with sadness and resignation. She was so thoroughly trained by her father that more often then not, she is (note the present tense) all too willing to submit to the humiliation. And what about the times she was forced to have sex against her will? No big deal. After all, is it really a rape if the victim confesses to being the project ho? Of course it’s rape! But in the end, my self-appointed mission is to teach this young woman that she must stop raping herself.
It would be bad enough if she were the only one. But she is just the latest in a growing list of the molested, the abused, the downtrodden. Children of God, discriminated against and reduced to sexual bondage for no other reason than the fact that they are female. It’s disheartening and it wears on me. But what else can I do but carry on? It’s only appropriate that having myself been counted among the selfish pricks who consumed women for nothing more than my own sexual gratification, I should devote my energies to helping these poor women heal. But the magnitude of the problem pushes me to the brink of despair.

Later in the evening my phone rings. I look at the caller ID, take a deep breath and pull a smile from deep inside. She has no idea who she is, but she is determined to be anything but the project ho, and I’m determined to help in any way I can.

Peace and Love,

Xavier

The Blinding Justice Film Project

2008-05-15T14:08:00.003-05:00

I realize that this blog is a forum for survivors from all over, but I'm hoping that some of you out there may be from Alaska or know of other survivors from Alaska who might be willing to share their stories. As many of you may (or may not) already know, the Alaskan rape rate is 2.5 times that of the US national average. This is within a state that has a total population of only about 700,000 people. These alarming statistics have had very little, if any, promising change over the last several years.

My film partner (who is also a full time staff member at an organization in Valdez, AK for victims of violence) and I are seeking to have more dialogue with Alaskan women who have survived an incident of sexual assault and have had some experience (either positive or negative) with the legal systems available to them at the time. Or even if you might have chose not to work within the legal system, we'd love to hear what made you choose that route instead.

We are absolutely aware of just how delicate this topic is to all involved and we are committed to exploring all pertinent view points and desire to do so in an accurate, yet sensitive manner. Just to be clear here - by corresponding with us, no one is automatically committing to be in the film. At this point, we just want to speak with people off the record and then go from there. It's not uncommon for people to hear the word "film" and immediately have a panic button go off. I'll be the first to admit that this is not a completely unfounded response. However, it is truly not our intention to scandalize, rather we hope that by pointing out the shortcomings of the systemic response to SA/DV through specific stories in such a public way, we will be working towards the ultimate goal that another Alaskan woman won't have to suffer the same injustice.

In summary:
Blinding Justice is a 30-minute film that will seek to educate a broad audience around issues of domestic violence and sexual assault against Alaskan women. It will provide a window into the world of Tribal, State and Federal justice systems and the challenges these women face in navigating them.

Please check out our temporary website for more information:
http://web.mac.com/stacybloom/Blinding_Justice/Home.html

OR
http://blindingjustice.blogspot.com/

Many thanks,
Stacy

Howard Professor Dawn Martin had to choose between her safety and her job

2008-05-01T11:45:00.002-05:00

Have you ever wondered what would happen if you were stalked at your place of employment? Former Howard Professor Dawn V. Martin did not have to wonder as it happened to her.

Professor Dawn V. Martin an attorney who ironically is known for her valiant representation of clients in matters of employment discrimination, civil rights and personal injury was harassed by a serial campus stalker. Her contract was “not renewed” after she asked the university to implement/its own established security procedures to bar the stalker from campus. I know this sounds bad - but keep reading as it gets worse!

Yesterday, Ms. Martin filed a Petition for Rehearing, En Banc, asking the full Court to review the three-judge Panel’s decision.Ms. Martin said: “The Court rarely grants petitions for review, but it is the only step before the United States Supreme Court. I would appreciate it if women’s groups, civil rights groups and crime victim’s associations would make their members aware of this case. If I don’t prevail at this level, I will be looking for groups that are willing to come together to file a joint Amicus Brief at the Supreme Court level.”

Groups interested in providing support should contact Ms. Martin at dvmartinlaw@yahoo.com or http://www.dvmartinlaw.com/

It is hard to understand why the campus would not want to implement any and all security measures available based upon the simple fact that this situation could have had a much direr outcome.This event in itself should have been considered a “wake up call” or at least an eye opener for Howard University -as a golden opportunity arrived for Howard to make the campus a safer place for the educators as well as the students. Seems to me someone here is trying to sweep the matter under the rug.

Nationally, campus security has been in question for a couple of years now as our nation has experienced wide spread campus violence. For Howard University to take this stance in the Martin case is startling to say the very least.

This will continue to be a very important case as what is happening here is more than a simple employment contract dispute- this case involves workplace safety and more importantly workplace standards that will impact all of us in this country and abroad.

For those of us who are victims of crime in particular of domestic abuse and stalking we need to speak out and to have our voices heard as safe working conditions should not be taken lightly.No one should not have to choose between their personal safety and their job- period.

To help Dawn Martin pursue justice and safe working conditions please contact her directly by e-mail at DVMartinlaw@yahoo.com. Donations are greatly appreciated to help continue this legal fight that will have a significant impact upon all of us.

If you have been victimized at work you are not alone. Please share your stories here as well as with Ms. Martin directly as employees should not have to work in fear.

Witness Justice: Helping Victim's become survivor's

2008-04-28T12:23:00.001-05:00

Witness Justice (WJ) is a national 501 (c)(3) non-profit organization whose mission is to offer advocacy and support to victims of violence and trauma. The programs and services of WJ are rooted in collaboration with organizations of all types (nonprofit, faith-based, government, community, and others), providing a sound foundation from which to assist survivors of trauma as a result of violence.

The WJ staff is comprised of individuals that have a passion for victim rights and services, along with a personal desire to see victims heal and achieve justice. Whether working on crime prevention efforts or generating a new program to fill a gap in what victims need, we are a passionate, committed team working tirelessly to make a difference for survivors of violent crime everywhere.

GPS technology bill unanimously passed IL House: Great news for domestic violence & stalking victims!

2008-04-21T13:19:00.003-05:00

Good news for domestic violence & stalking victims with protective orders!

The Illinois House on Thursday unanimously passed legislation that will allow judges to order GPS monitoring for those who violate orders of protection. The proposed law is modeled on the statute in Massachusetts which already has similar legislation in place.

With the GPS technology the victims of domestic violence and stalking will now have "technology" as their witness. No longer will victims have to battle the "he said" "she said" when reporting violations of their protective orders. More importantly, victims will no longer have to rely upon unreliable witness testimony.

Often in criminal cases like these that stem from restraining order violations, witnesses are reluctant to testify or do not want to get involved for fear of retaliation from the abuser or because they don't want to get involved in what could be a lengthy and time consuming court case.

Abusers have relied upon the many weaknesses of domestic violence restraining orders until now -as GPS technology utilized to enhance restraining orders will help "level out the playing field".

This legislation is long over due! Hopefully all 50 states will adopt similar legislation.