I feel like this might be a woman’s worst nightmare – I without shame, accused several men of rape, but in this case it was so we could trap the REAL people involved in my gang rape, without being considered “Rats”.
Thankfully our years long plan worked, but it occurs to me, that someone I once called friend, is allegedly dating one of my actual rapists – Adam Hadwyn – like, on purpose.
As it turns out, she is also married to another man, who raped me when I was seventeen. Now it must be said that I never saw the face of my rapist at seventeen, it was his smell I remembered and only after meeting him, through a mutual friend, did I realize who he was.
I did a remarkable job of keeping my cool and pretending it never happened, because I just wasn’t ready to fucking deal with it, and at the time I didn’t have anyone who would have believed me or would have cared enough. Going to the cops was not an option.
So without making more excuses, someone I know personally, is having an affair with one of the men who set up my 2014 gang rape in North Delta, British Columbia, while simultaneously married to another of my earlier rapists.
What the fuck kind of weird ass majickal hairy fairy chary shenanigans is that bullshit?
Part of me wants to say it’s the Universes’ way of forcing me to deal with things that I don’t want to deal with. Part of it is I think, but the other part of me is wondering what the fuck SHE is thinking.
A lot like this scenario:
Now I get that scientifically speaking, Chris Brown is the kind of man that people all over the world think that we’re supposed to believe is sexy. He’s theoretically well built, if you ignore the ego and behavior, he’s wealthy and beloved around the world…so was Robert Kelly. Le Gross.
However when I look at the face of Rihanna, this beautiful strong powerful Black woman who was forced into a feeling of weakness, and fear by this “good looking man” he doesn’t look so handsome now.
When I look at this face, I think about all the cousins I had as kids, the ones Babu decided were going to rule the world one day in all the various societies he could find room for us in.
Daon was going to be a Boxer, but he became my protector and alleged avenger instead.
Brandon was going to be my guardian and my best friend – he was going to be the one to let me tell a terrible lie so an even worse truth could come out, and turns out that is exactly what happened.
The girls in our family were to become singers, dancers, the Dianna Ross’s of the future, Babu called them….but me? I was always going to be his favorite Loud Mouth Brown Girl.
I did not have a lot of Black Women who were about my age – struggling and poor in my face, that I could look up to. Rihanna for so many of us is the woman the girls of the 90’s wanted to be when we grew up. Same with women like Beyonce, and Michelle Obama, Oprah, so when you say shit like ‘well I know he made a mistake but…” No mother fucker, I don’t forgive you because my former friend is married to and dating two of my rapists.
I can’t fucking forgive that – if I know that you have that in you? that you could choose to hurt a woman, for any reason, other than you know…IF she gave permission, I can’t respect you as “good looking“, but especially when that creepy behavior continues. As it has with Robert Kelly, Chris Brown, and people in my personal life.
What confuses me about these women is how I should feel about it. Should I be angry that she’s choosing them over our friendship? should I be worried that the rumors of drug use are true? If they are of course I am hoping this person gets help but then there is another part of me that wonders why I should care?
This woman is allegedly dating a man who raped me – married to another – I have to keep saying that. I have to at least emotionally and mentally keep track of how they treated me when I needed them the absolute most. I have to let that be a reminder that the rumors about this person are coming from another toxic person who has their own stressors and issues right now.
I feel this way because I am currently suffering from varying degrees of PTSD and Depression, I am dealing with a lot of the same internal shame that all of Robert Kelly’s victims will be dealing with over the next several years.
There will be moments of “I trained myself to enjoy that“, to make the pain easier, Victims in the moment have the ability to train their brain to turn pain into pleasure. I barely feel pain any more and when I do it can become erotic, it’s not something I am happy about but it’s something I understand.
The night the boys and I were held captive at Hadwyn’s home in North Delta, I did whatever I could to survive. I laughed when appropriate, I cried or screamed when I had to, and with every chance in the world that I would end up dead that night I even allowed myself to have an orgasm, because that was what I needed to do to survival.
This man and his friends held me and mine captive, with drugs, guns and baseball bats, threatening death, and my former almost friend is dating him and I am supposed to say there is ever a chance in hell I would let that woman or her new man in my life again? Nope.
Nothing about men who beat women is sexy unless:
- It is a fetish that they both (or more) enjoy and in the vein of safe sane and consensual.
There is no redemption for men who hypnotize, drug, rape and beat men and women for their own amusement.
I can’t find this behavior sexy any more – I studied Fetishism for years on my own, in an effort to understand why I was attracted to the kind of men that I am attracted to – why I love Little Man like a woman loves a husband, even though we’ve never had sex or seen each other naked.
For some people BDSM is a fetish, a thing they enjoy in privacy. For us it saved our lives, using what we’d learned from Erotica and Fetishism to understand the psychology of what was happening us in the moment is what helped keep us together that night and long after.
That night we were held at gun point, protected by men who knew something was up and weren’t entirely sure what was what until they showed up to the bleeding mess that was me and the boys.
There is nothing sexy about toxic abusive behavior – TAB*, which so many men have taught me recently – which is ironic because when you’re a woman in recovery you are supposed to be able to lean on other women. I never have been before which is I suppose why I have so much trouble reaching out to them now.
Which is why the Sisterhood of She is so fucking fractured right now – these days it feels more like the Sisterhood of He, rather than she, because she had to lean on he, in order to find her inner “me”, and it shouldn’t be that way.
I am often flabbergasted by the fact that powerful women are called evil and I know why, it’s not because of He, at least not in my case. In my case it really feels like the women just turned their backs on me and refused to look back, and when I find out that a former friend is dating someone who raped people I love? who forced them to make it look like they were willing participants? I have a hard time feeling empathy.
I’m trying because honestly, that is what my faith calls me to do, but I have a hard time believing that the powers that be could even understand how women can date known and accused by law rapists.
I’ve been asked a lot recently why I didn’t just go to the cops – oh ho I did, and I proved everything I said with meticulously written journals with names that were used the night I was gang raped – and I handed them in. Making it very clear in the hallway of my apartment building that the men listed in those books were obviously innocent, and made to look like the guilty party because I was blindfolded.
I’ve known Michael Alexander Ross since he was three days old, I met him the day they brought him home from the hospital, do you really think I can’t tell the difference between Chris Trotchie and Michael Ross aka Little Man?!
Or Angel? who’ve I’ve known since Kindergarten? who by the way is Mark, Not Ian, Paul or Gabriel – you guys are so fucking stupid you don’t even know their names.
This website, this letter, is dedicated to the Surrey British Columbia Wolf Pack, the Horsemen of Surrey, and Gray Beard, of the Red and White of British Columbia and the MEN who spent the last eight and a half months working hard to protect me, while simultaneously proving that I am not a rat.
Which let’s be honest, is the worst fucking part of Gang Rape….you can’t go to the cops because that’s called being a rat, and that is a fear worst than death supposedly.
The only thing that is even comparable, is the thought that I would not let the truth come out when it was absolutely time, that was always the plan, and here I am sitting here thinking “this poor woman might not know her boyfriend and husband raped me…” oh fuck that shit you fucking knew because you flat out told me that day of the garage sale that your husband used to stalk a girl.
He stalked me you psycho bitch..
From the time I was five years old, finding me again was “lucky“, he said in your fucking kitchen, you knew your husband Curtis T raped me, and then you started fucking dating his friend who set up my GANG RAPE.
Empathy? No I do not have empathy I have what is called as righteous fucking rage, because women like this are why so many of us are completely disconnected from each other.
They are the kind of women who don’t even try to get help, who sit back and continue to cause harm to other women to families, to get off on whatever sick pleasure it is they are trying to enjoy.
I can’t empathize with that idea that “it can’t happen to me” mentality. How many fucking more examples do women need to have before they realize that not only are not all men evil, but some of them actually want to help?
It took me thirty-five years and three and a half months to finally give in and let the men in my life do whatever they wanted so I could say that I know my – and I do mean – MY Wolf Pack, in case you were wondering, is clear of rape.
(I do mean “MY” Wolf Pack – because Wolves stick together. Devon said to make sure you all knew she said that.)
I saw Mark in the streets at Pride on the weekend, I couldn’t bring myself to go up and hug him, because I am not ready to look into his eyes and see his pain, I have too much of my own right now but I wish I had. I wish I’d gone up and wrapped my hands around his waist and hugged my Angel tightly, but I couldn’t because our friendship has been fractured by the same plan we used and enacted to protect the children of our Ohana.
Today is a sad mental health day which is why I don’t want to stop writing, I would take Angel and Lil Man, Shorty and Blondie back any fucking day before I would take back a woman who is choosing to find a thousand things she’d rather have than me in her life.
The Sisterhood of She – mostly he – has gathered over two thousand letters to pass out this summer season across the lower Mainland through Pride Vancouver.
Yesterday I spent some of the day translating (into mostly proper English) some of the letters sent to me by my friends, Lil Man, Blondie Shortie Angel etc, male and female and all I can say is “wow”.
When I was out for the count, I was asked what it was I wanted to do about this situation. I was told flat out that if I wanted the families would go to war, in the streets, literally, blood would reign blah blah, typical gang bullshit. Eye for an eye crap. I said no what I wanted was for my friends, my Ohana, my Familia, as Angel says, to write letters so I didn’t have to write them alone.
That’s what my family did, they wrote hundreds of letters in their own homes, and will be passing them out on Pride, August 9th in Vancouver. They come in many colors, shapes and sizes, and as it turns out, from all over the world.
This year for Pride, to combat the evil that happened in North Delta on October 27th 2014, in the house of Adam Hadwyn, in the tradition started by Colby Pallson and “Giles”, we will be delivering real letters from known and unknown, “affiliated” people from across British Columbia. We even have friends passing out letters at Pride in LA, Boston and FUCKING HAWAII AND NEW ORLEANS ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! HOW?!
This I might like to add was Little Man’s idea, so if you want to know what sexy looks like? It’s more than two dozen men from Alberta and British Columbia starting a secret not so secret love letter writing campaign and hijacking a woman’s website to make it look like it was her idea.
Fuck Chris Brown, he ain’t shit.
Sending all our love