Victims need validation. I know because I was a victim. I am a victim. I have been victimized. This is very much a state of being that can last for months or years which may also be accompanied by anxiety, depression, or PTSD. So you mean to tell me that I’m just supposed to let some ashy nigga manipulate me, treat me like shit, make me feel like it’s my fault, and then just let him dash off into the sunset without consequences? You’ve got me fucked up, but that is what your abusers want: to stay underground.
How many victims of abuse are in therapy? Are on medication? Are institutionalized? Are hospitalized? Are dead? I didn’t know being light-skinned and attractive was a magic equation for being incapable of being complete and utter gutter trash or that it prevented you from preying on people and destroying their mental, physical, and emotional health. But what I have come to notice about abusers is that they often seem quite incapable of understanding complex feelings, generally don’t care about other people’s well-being, and are callous as hell when they have gotten what they wanted from their victims. I guess there’s no reason to be nice when you’re done taking all that one can give. That is the very definition of a parasite.
Victims need a voice. Do you know how oppressive silence is? You should. A lot of people suffer under at least one form oppression, whether real or the figment of the imagination of someone with too much unchecked privilege. How would you feel if you were never allowed to complain about how much weight you’ve gained in the past year? Or about how much better people treat you when you straighten your hair? Or how much more enriching your friendships have become since you cut certain people out of your life? Have you ever suffered in silence before? It is a disease that kills you slowly everyday.
“You are not supposed to talk about this. It will hurt your abuser’s feelings.” I’m supposed to give a fuck about my abuser’s feelings?! These people are fucking wild. I mean really. What are ya’ll doing? Are you waiting for him to fuck you too? People are jumping off bridges to defend this nigga, no parachute, no river or lake, no fucking cushion for the landing. These are the very same people who will chastise and victim-blame you, telling you you should’ve known better… while also holding up your abuser. These people are not your friends, and as I got more agitated and time passed on, sitting in silence itched more and more. My story was sitting in the pit of my stomach like a highly processed, greasy food that refused to digest. These are the folks that say they support you, while also bowing down to the person (or people) who hurt you.
Abusers need to be exposed. Our silence strengthens them. And I do not say this to shame other victims because it took me damn near a year to step forward. People work through their trauma in different ways, some get outside help, some drink, some keep diaries, some attend support groups. I blog. I say this because being quiet was like holding a poison inside of myself and he was that poison. I spat it out and left it in writing and have spoken with others who have also been targeted by him. That is where I have found more peace than any place else within the past year: with the other people who understand how I feel. We share so much in common. Big, trusting hearts that were still soft enough to want to help him, but he is a hunter. Hunters know where to stab you best to kill you, how to corner you, confuse you, and make you feel trapped. I have cried for my abuser, does he not deserve equal amounts of suffering?
Awareness. Not everyone knew that he was abusive, manipulative, and a scammer. Probably sounds hard to believe, but I’ve only been aware for maybe 4 months now. Plus, the likelihood that this serial offender is going to stop targeting people after all these years seems to be quite slim, so the more people who lay eyes on the original post, the fewer people he has to target. Or…is protecting femmes and women not the goal of feminism?
I’m not going to sit here behind my keyboard and lie and say that it was easy for me the write that post because it wasn’t. I think I worked on it for about two months before I finally worked up the courage to hit the publish button and it was another 2 weeks after that before I started to share it with people. Speaking up after you’ve been abused is not easy. There are people who are just as bad as your abusers telling you that what you are doing is wrong because you have no reason to ruin somebody’s life just because they hurt you. As if being lied to, manipulated, scammed, or physically abused can be summed up as simply as being “hurt”! Falling off a bike hurts. Kicking a fucking table leg hurts. Dropping myself on my flat ass while practicing new pole tricks hurts. Being abused is fucking devastating. Falling off a pole never gave me PTSD. Dodging cars during heavy traffic in the snow of a Brooklyn winter on a bike didn’t give me anxiety. I don’t have nightmares about kicking a fucking table leg.