Community Comment: How our community helps consent violators; not the victim

By Rhee Metzel

This past few months really has me thinking, possibly too much. That is not a bad thing.

When I came out about my own abuse I was in 8th grade. So 13 or 14. The amount of shit I heard was awful. I was trafficked as a child prostitute for men by my non-biological uncle. It wasn’t a daily occurrence. It did however happen several times a month.

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Want to know how? My uncle would come over to “take me out for ice cream to give my grandmother a break”. I was raised by my grandparents. This man was her brother-in-law.

It couldn’t be true. He is such a good man.

But he treated your aunt beautifully!

Why are you causing problems?!

Why are you lying??

It was my fault, I should have known better.

It was my fault, I should have said something sooner.

It was my fault, that after saying something my grandmother got extremely ill.

It was my fault, because after two weeks from learning what had happened my great-grandmother died.

Flash forward to college. I was raped by my boyfriend and his best friend

It was my fault because I should have known better than to be alone with two boys.

When the student health center (aka the quack shack) gave me Elavil and it caused hallucinations, I should have known better than to take a medication.

The university had forced me into therapy that made things exponentially worse and I had a breakdown (hence Elavil). So, when the dean of women kicked me out of school, I should have known better than to listen to adults that were not my parents.

When I had my marriage annulled because my husband tried to strangle me, I should have known better than to marry so young.

The list goes on and on and on. It was always my fault. No one ever thought to blame the men that raped me. No one ever thought to blame the man that sold me for sex. No one blamed my abusers, ever.

Twenty-six years later, I know that it wasn’t my fault. Yet, I see and hear about the same sort of shit on a damn near daily basis. It’s almost ALWAYS the victim’s fault.

You shouldn’t have had a drink.

You should have watched your drink better.

You shouldn’t have worn that outfit.

Shoulda, woulda, coulda.

I get that not everyone can go to the police in a way few do. When I was raped in college the county prosecutor refused to take to court almost all “date rapes”. Yes, I hate that term. People aren’t believed. The fact we are kinky is a factor. People are afraid to be outed because work, kids, family, or hundreds of other reasons.

“We shouldn’t police people’s bedrooms!”

You know what? As long as everyone is a consenting adult, you’re right. But when it comes to non-consent? Why on earth do you think that? Your child, bestie, relative, partner, whatever is HURTING. Are you honest to god going to say, sorry about your luck. I won’t help you. I won’t support you. It happened in your bedroom or home and that is off limits to me. I can’t police your bedroom.

For years, we have made it where victims are terrified to come out and say something happened. We call them crazy, dumb, blame them, and shamed them. We tell them well you should have done X instead. We tell them you shouldn’t have done Y. Why would anyone want to come out about something traumatic only to have more trauma inflicted on them?

I have never in my 45 years been so disgusted with humans. The ones that do this shit? You are just as bad, in my eyes, as the original perpetrator(s).

If you want to be an apologist, saying what about false accusations, and other such nonsense?  I have covered that many times in other writings. Yes, false allegations in sex crimes happen. They are however the minority, with 2-10% of accusations being false in the US. You want proof of that? Google it

To all the people that have said this shit? To all the people that have said but the by-laws state. To all the people that think that by-laws, clubs, virtually anything at all is more important that the safety and well-being of your fellow humans?

Don’t speak to me.

Don’t speak about me.

Don’t look at me.

Don’t come near me.

I’m done with you.

I’m done.