survivors

Because survivors aren’t masked superheroes: They’re humans.

Anyone who has been a victim of abuse will tell you that the burden of emotional labor is enormous, and that it’s amplified by the pressure to keep quiet.

... the last thing I want to do is open my legs for a man to penetrate me. Or to pleasure a man with any part of my body. Even if that man is my loving fiancé, who does listen, who does understand (as best he can), who does respect me through this ongoing turmoil. It is all too symbolic of the lifetime I have already experienced of being fucked and then told to smile and politely ask for more.

... the last thing I want to do is open my legs for a man to penetrate me. Or to pleasure a man with any part of my body. Even if that man is my loving fiancé, who does listen, who does understand (as best he can), who does respect me through this ongoing turmoil. It is all too symbolic of the lifetime I have already experienced of being fucked and then told to smile and politely ask for more.

The first time I felt like I had lost control of my body was over six years ago, when I found out I was pregnant. Biology and time and every facet of my human existence seemed to be working against me. I was afraid and ashamed, because I could have been smarter and more accurate with my birth control and I wasn’t too young or too dumb. I knew better. But, thankfully, there was something I could do about it.

Where are all the feminists in the wake of the Dana McCallum sexual assault case?