Being forced to forgive your rapist is as comfortable as taking a cheese grater to your cunt.
Yes, I said that, I entirely and completely said that, and I own the fuck out of that, I’ll stand by that until the day I am dead, for real.
Over the last six to eight months or so, I’ve been forced, largely with the use of heavy medication, to tell my truth, to many many people. Doctors, Lawyers, Teachers, Friends, Family and basically every person I’ve ever come in contact with. Not an experiment, a massive dose of de-programming.
In the process of training my brain and my body not to feel pain, I somehow forced myself to pretend like I’d not had the up close and personal experience with rape and rape culture that I have.
I’ve been doing this to myself since I was a child, get sexually abused or molested, “nope didn’t happen, forget move on.” I’ve admitted to being raped before, on this blog, on other platforms, hell on the radio – but not to the extent that we learned about throughout the last little while.
Straight up, someone investigated every area of my life – my claims have been proven, but that’s not the point.
I used to be the kind of person who “forgave”, now I’m the kind of person who remembers that not only did I forgive, I set out to help the same people who tricked me, lied to me and used me all so I could ONE MORE TIME, say that someone who was ACCUSED of raping me, by someone OTHER than me, did NOT rape me.
Through this process, I’ve been called;
- nigger whore
The list goes on, the things I’ve heard friends and family say about me, when they didn’t know they were talking about me is shocking. Largely because when they figured out it was me, some of them stood by it, until they were proven wrong, and even then, still turned their back on me when presented with truth.
The famed Blogger “Enty” even wrote a post talking about a former child porn star who was going to come out and share her secrets. I can check that off the box, because a lot of us came forward, and the FBI, the Governments across North America have proof that what we say is truth.
That’s all fucking awesome, and I’m really proud of men and women who let the world believe they were less than they are, so that we could end this shameful awful thing that happened to all of us.
In this process, over and over again I was repeatedly reminded that the way to peace is forgiveness.
Hmm. Maybe, I suppose, I mean it totally worked for the Jewish Slaves in the 1900’s, oh and it totally worked for Martin Luther King, yup, we forgave the fuck out of those ass fucks who murdered him and last year had one of the highest rates of Black deaths across the board, globally speaking.
I’m tired of forgiveness, I’ve been forgiving my entire life, and now the man who destroyed our childhood is roaming free, “with conditions,” while my friends and family are still so scattered, and hurting.
So many hearts got broken over the last several months, some because they realized what they’d been going through.
Others because they realized what they’d been doing.
And more still because they came to witness, to hear our stories, so that no matter what happens to us, there are people from all over the world that know what we went through and how we survived.
We did that, we survived, and there is that tiny Catholic school girl inside of me that says “well Jesus would forgive…” yeah…maybe Jesus would, but I’m not Jesus and I have no intention of dying a fucking Martyr to the “I do not want to be a fucking Maple Tree” Cause.
No offence meant to the Batallia family, I swear it, you know how much my sister means to me…but I REALLY do not want to end up on the jealous end of some guy’s angry wrath, I’ve already been there, too many fucking times, and I hardly think saying “I forgive you,” is going to stop a man intent on causing me harm.
Whew. One of Jen Marchbank’s students said something similar, I think her/your/their, name is Elizabeth, but it could have easily been Reba…I learn a lot from the young women in her class.
What’s worse is the parts where I had to listen to the people who hurt me over the years, tell me how sorry they are. I so don’t care?
I don’t care that you’re sorry you tried to light my hair on fire in seventh grade…you tried to light my fucking hair on fire. You had a daughter, bitch that’s karma, fuck you.
I don’t care that you thought it was funny I didn’t know what I was saying because I was hypnotized and under for more than 20 fucking years, you used that against me and you knew something was up but you never once asked if I was okay…fuck you too. Karma has spoken.
My time is precious, my life matters to me, even if it doesn’t matter to anyone else in the world, even the people who think they are helping by listening and then asking if you have mental health issues – clearly you dumbass, I just confessed I’d been gang raped after having a counselling session with one of my rapists. To my Tattoo artist, yeah I got some fucking issues. I’ll remember that the next time I come to say “hey, thanks for being there for me in a really scary moment,” without the reminder I have fucking mental health issues thanks.
I know people don’t know how to talk to survivors, but talking to us like we’re children isn’t going to make me or any survivor feel better, it’s going to make me want to sit on your nuts and do a fucking dance, but I won’t, because I’m nicer than that.
I wouldn’t given a choice, allow my worst enemy, or her brother, to see into my mind, but what kills me most, is being told that by NOT choosing to listen to someone’s apology, I am thereby keeping them hostage.
But you damned sure are holding ME hostage by trying to force me to listen to you reiterate, how you hurt me, just so you can acknowledge that you understand you hurt me. Don’t fucking apologize to me, if I don’t ask you for one.
If I don’t come to you and say to your face “I’m really fucking angry at you,” than chances are I probably don’t care if you care or not – and if I don’t care if you care, than I am either:
A) Not ready to forgive you yet
B) Not ready to dissect how I feel about you yet
C) Not interested in how it makes you feel because I’m still hurting.
Forgiveness comes when it comes, but let me do those of you looking for it a favor, assume we have forgiven you. Assume that we have said thank you for acknowledging that you are a massive douche nozzle, and that we’re all square, we aren’t of course, but assume we have. Do you feel better? Awesome, so do I, now go on so I can continue loathing and despising you in privacy as is my right, and don’t ever, ever again tell ANY one they have to forgive to move on, because holy fuck have I learned that lesson.
I did that once, and it got me an exorcism, deprogrammed and the complete loss of self that only Johnny Depp and perhaps Hunter. S. Thompson could understand.
Back to your regularly scheduled fuckassery.
P.S. Don’t fuck with my Angels, they wear red so their enemies don’t see them bleed. Stupid.
Love, Butterflies and fucking Rainbow fucking Unicorns,
Devon J Hall