Does Anyone Fucking Care?

For the first time ever, I approached someone I admire and asked permission to talk about this particular Hash tag that took over twitter this past week.

Someone I admire very much named @ProfaneFeminist on Twitter started this hash tag when her cousin was murdered by a male partner. Murdered because she wanted out.

Within minutes the hash tag was shared hundreds of times and hundreds of conversations were happening about Domestic abuse.

I am starting to notice just how not alone I am on my side of the planet these days, and as much as loneliness can break a person dealing with healing after Domestic Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse and Gang Rape, realizing just how not alone you are is even worse.

It’s heart breaking to hear how many stories of domestic abuse exist in the world, and those stories are not just reserved by women. Plenty of men have experienced Domestic Abuse, Gang Rape and Childhood Sexual Abuse. Or as we politely call it these days, “gender based violence.”

A study could be done on Twitter alone about the number of people who have experienced these things but I suspect the number is close to a few million people.

My point is that its something so common we shouldn’t be surprised when it happens and yet I am constantly surprised by just how many stories there are. I am constantly stunned that I am not the only one, I knew I wasn’t a complete original, but I was so deep into my ignorant bliss that I forgot there is a whole world outside of abuse.

I told my aunt today that when it comes to dissecting my feelings I have absolutely no problem discussing that, I can write about this shit for days. When it comes to writing fictional stuff however I find I am completely at a loss for words.

Its almost like I’ve forgotten how to write, because my brain has been reset, to only focus on abuse these days.

Does anyone fucking care?

That’s the question every single person asks when they realize even silently, that they are a victim of abuse. “Does anyone fucking care?” We ask this question of ourselves a lot because we expect that we look differently because we’ve been abused.

We wonder why no one else notices that something is wrong, why does no one see the shame, guilt and self hatred that we pile upon ourselves when we’ve been abused? it’s so fucking obvious right?

We know what the signs are, we know what to look for because many of us who have been abused have worked with others who have been abused, or we’ve heard the stories, so why does no one care when it’s our turn? Added to that, why the fuck does it feel like we’re just waiting in line for “our turn” to be abused?

Is there a rule out there somewhere that says there is a certain quota of people to be abused before the Universe is happy? Does anyone fucking care?

I don’t know why it happens, I don’t know why the people who are in charge don’t care enough to protect victims or suspected victims more than they protect the accused but I seriously wonder…does anyone fucking care?

Why is it so hard for people to realize that what has been happining to innocent people for centuries isn’t actually okay? When are people going to realize that when a woman says a man is violent, what she really means is “I think he’s going to kill me.”

When, and this is the most important question, are people going to believe women who say shit like “I think he’s going to murder me.”

Because that seems to be happening an awful lot in a country that is supposed civilized, it doesn’t feel very civilized to know that one hundred and twenty women have been murdered in Canada this year.

What was done to me sure as fuck wasn’t civilized. It wasn’t civility that I was treated with the night I was kidnapped, beaten, raped, tortured and sexually abused until the wee hours of the morning. That didn’t feel very “civil.”

What happened to @PF’s cousin wasn’t very civil, and yet we live in a society that says that violent crime is not on the rise and women are actually safe. Women don’t feel very safe, and yeah I know neither do men, but let’s be honest here, men might experience Domestic Violence, but not at the rates women do and frankly I can only speak to a woman’s perspective.

Which brings me to wonder why so  many men expect that we’re going to sit around and say thanks that it’s “not all men,” we know it’s not all of you for fuck sakes, that doesn’t make it okay for you to infiltrate our safe spaces and take our focus away from self healing so you can put it on you.

If you really believed that it wasn’t all men who abuse women, you’d say something like, “hey women, I get it you’re healing, carry on.” That’s probably the mos supportive thing a man can do and yet so many of you are incapable of allowing us any small space to discuss our pain safely.

All around the world women are meeting in secret hidden places away from their men discussing all the terrible things that men put us through and we’re not so silently plotting revenge so I completely understand why it is you might be so afraid of allowing us our safe spaces. I get it, you’re afraid, and you damned well should be, you should understand what it feels like to be afraid because women are born afraid. Every. Single. Day.

I feel this intense wonder within myself. Why am I not curious about getting a job yet? Why am I still okay – more okay than ever actually – with letting this website be my job for awhile while I heal?

The answer is because I’ve done my job. I worked forty-seven hour weeks for no money, (“Volunteered”) for years while not dealing with what was done to me as a child and as an early adult.

I pretended for years to be happy while drinking myself into an early grave to hide the pain I was in, and it hit me today when I caught my reflection, that I am fucking sad.

I am heartbroken that so many years while I was helping others I didn’t realize that I was drowning myself.

Does anyone fucking care?

I tried going to Narcotics Anonymous only to watch someone I liked die because he knew it wasn’t going to get any better, the worst part was and will always be that he had my name, and now I feel an irrational need to prove to him that yes it does get better, so I keep going for him.

I drank and partied more after he died, because I had to prove that no matter how bad it got for him it was never going to get so bad for me that I’d take my own life too.

And then I was gang raped.

Does anyone fucking care?

I fucking care. I fucking care which is why I started #AfterAbuseChat, (Thursdays @ 6pm PST if you’re interested.) with Heather.

I fucking care, which is why I reached out to @PF, and to others who have shown a strength I can only hope to have one day. I fucking care which is why I haven’t fucking murdered myself yet.

I decided a long time ago that Death was going to decide when I die, I wasn’t going to make it easy on them and I stand by that.

I am not going to pretend to live life, like I’ve been doing for the last twenty-six years, because I fucking Care. I am not going to make my comfort less important then the men who have the fucking stones to say stupid shit like “Not All Men.”

If you care, in honor of @PF and their cousin I’m going to ask you to do something. On Sunday 15th I’m going to ask you to use the phrase “#IFuckingCare” just once to show victims of Domestic Abuse, Child Sex Abuse and Gang rape that you actually do care. That you care, believe them and will stand by them when they need a shoulder to cry on, or a place to hide.

In honor of PF, and the one hundred and twenty women who have been murdered in Canada in the year of 2019, #IFuckingCare.

Sending all my love,

Devon J Hall