A Conversation With Inga Muscio

So tonight I had a long talk with Inga Muscio (that's right the authoress of Cunt). And she really pushed me to think about a few things. I told hir about the letter idea to which she replied "here's the thing, he doesn’t really deserve it" ....and that's true....to an extent. Over the past couple of weeks (months, years) I have spent a serious amount of emotional energy worrying about him. Worrying how he will react and whether or not it might hurt him....and what the fuck for? Why does he deserve that? I can guarantee he doesn’t lay awake at night torturing himself about how his actions have affected my life or persinal growth. So why am I? Why do I continuously put his interests first? It is yet another way of making myself a victim and I need to cut that shit out. So here is the new plan. I will write him a letter but I will not tell him any way in which he has gained power over me. I will not give him the privilege of knowing how he has so effectively destroyed a part of my sense of self. He does not deserve to know that. I will however tell him that he is a rapist, that he hurt one of his closest friends and that I will no longer protect him.

I had toyed with the idea of putting flyers up around town and I talked to Inga about that. She had mentioned that one of hir friends had done something like that and that it was a good way of getting the word out. I'm not sure I'm strong enough to deal with the consequences that action might have, but I have decided that I am going to write another letter that I'll give to my friends in Berea and other people that know him. Myspace and Facebook will be key players in helping me to get the word out.

She asked me if I had a support system here and after really thinking about it I told hir the closest thing to the truth...no. I have only a few people that I feel are really willing to go to bat for me, to stick with me through all the ugly hard shit that might go my way. She asked me what was keeping me here and I told hir economics, that I couldn't afford to be anywhere else right now. I told hir that was really only half true and that part of the reason that I stuck around was because I was committed to working on issues in Berea like addiction and hopelessness. To which she replied "why are those issues that are important to work on but nobody will support you in working on this...that's not, you know, reciprocal. and that's not healthy for you" and she is absolutely fucking right. I work on other peoples shit all the time and I make excuse after excuse as to why there is nobody there to give me a helping hand. My expectations for friends and solidarity in this town is absofuckinlutely non existent and that is fucking garbage. Here is the thing, people here have a choice they can be a good friend or than can not. Those are there options. I will no longer sacrifice my sanity and safety for those who are unwilling to sacrifice even the smallest amount of emotional energy for me. And here is the hard honest to goodness truth....anyone who is willing to be friends with the man that raped me is no fucking friend at all.

I told hir I was worried because his mother is really sick right now and I care about both hir and his sister and she suggested that instead of putting alot of energy into writing a letter to him that I sit down and spend some time writing a letter to them, because they deserve it. And I realized what I was really worried about was putting them in a position where they would suffer for his actions. I realize now that that is unavoidable. There is nothing I can do to prevent the hurt and heartache that will go along with being told that someone you love has done something so horrible. I cannot wait to see if Daniella gets better. And I cannot allow myself to feel bad for adding more stress to hir life. The only regret that I will allow myself is that I didn't say something sooner. I am not responsible for this pain. He is. It is his actions that brought us here. It his actions that are inflicting pain. Not mine. This is not my fault.

Am I still scared? Hell fucking yeah. Is it possible that everyone will turn against me? Yes....but I can't care about it anymore. I don't have the energy to worry that my whole town will turn against me. I don't have the energy to worry about the backlash. If I lose friends over this than so be it because remaining silent will kill me. I can no longer worry about being believed. I know what happened. I know what's true and that is going to have to be enough. I will pray for the strength to get through it and I will remain faithful that there will be people by my side willing to help.

My word is going to have to be enough.

A New York Story

Taking the subway from Brooklyn, sitting next to Brittawnee quizzing hir for hir very first all veg waitressing job. enoki mushrooms, carrots, red peppers, no and yellow too, don’t forget the jicama. Amazing.

It’s amazing how many homes a persin can have and never be home at all. I ease between places forgetting the home I just left behind. Ignoring a life I never wanted. Rocking with the subway, legs touching, pressed in friendship, avoiding the piece of egg left on the seat from a passenger before us.

Two men walk in and you can feel the “jesus christ. i don’t have the energy to ignore them” vibe run through the train. Two men. A black man with a guitar and four yellowed teeth. A white man with blood shot eyes, nice shoes and a stool. He sits placing a cello between his legs. A cello. A fucking cello on the J line. And the black man starts singing Tracy Chapman, forgive me is all that you cant say. years gone by and still, words don’t come easily, like forgive me forgive me. And something feels profound; something about the whole damn moment feels holy. Tracy Chapman, Brittawnee, the worn black overcoat of the black man, the journey, the care the bloodshot man took when he touched the strings of the cello… the repulsion of the people around them, blind to the gift they’d been presented at 10:58am on the J line. Perhaps they’re numb to miracles.

Riding the subway can do that to you.

Turning Fear Into Action

This past week at church the pastor asked us to consider what we were “afraid to know”, what we were pretending to be ignorant of in order to avoid action. This question has been on my mind for the past week. I just got in a big argument with one of my best friends for his unwillingness to step up and help stop something he knows is wrong. His silence will in the long run hurt alot of people but he is still unwilling to sacrifice any of his persinal comfort in order to help. It made me angry to think that someone I love so much could be so selfish and cowardly.

I sat and thought alot about it and I realized that alot of my anger came from knowing that I have done the same. For the past 5 years I have known the name of the persin who raped me. And by not speaking it I have protected him and left him with the opportunity to hurt others, and I know he has. It is not my fault that he raped other womyn, he is responsible for that action, but it is true that I made it easier for him. It is true that my silence has made me somehow complicit. It's hard not to feel hopeless about this.

It's so hard to know what to do when we know how racist, classist, degrading and unjust the so-called justice system in this country is. How can we turn anyone over to it?
- Laurel Paget-Seekins

I don't trust the judicial system and I don't like the idea of giving the police or the government any extra control over my life, but I'm not sure what else to do. I have always planned on writing him a letter and telling him exactly what he has done to me, but that letter can't serve as warning to the people around him. Part of me wishes that I could just sit down with him and talk to him about it, ask him if he has any understanding of what he did...because I'm not sure he does. I wish things could work that way. The reality is, they can’t.

Tomorrow after church I am going to go to the police station and ask them what the process is for having him charged. It has been a long time so I'm not sure what my options still are. After that I will figure out my next move.

What am I afraid to know? His name.