The world’s intolerance
To bear witness
To the great suffering
Within her sphere
Increasingly weighs upon me
For I have much to tell
And no one who will hear
How do I speak
Of being raped at two
To a world that changes subjects
At the words #MeToo
To a world that shames women
For what men, like
Epstein, Weinstein
Nassar, and Sandusky
Did to them
A world that examines
The credibility of victims
Over that of abusers
“She probably wanted it.”
“What was she wearing?”
“Did she tell?”
“There’s no proof.”
“He was probably just
Working out past trauma.”
“He’s a really nice guy,
Can’t imagine him doing that.”
“We didn’t know”
“She didn’t tell us”
“She probably just wants:
Attention
Money
To take him down.”
(And why might she want that?)
She’s needy
“From the wrong side of of the tracks”
Wears short skirts
It’s too easy to ruin
A good guy’s reputation
These phrases are everywhere
But I first heard them
From my perpetrators
It’s what they want the world to believe
Permit me to address
The world’s twisted views
I’ll get back to my story
But I hope you see
How these false beliefs
Stand in the way
Of victims
Telling their stories
And being heard
In reality
Justice is exceptionally difficult
Our courts and society
Protect abusers
You can harm a child
Just shy of murder
But if she doesn’t muster
The Herculean courage
To take him to court
Before the statute of limitations expires
There’s no justice
No chance to prevent
Future victims
A statute of limitations
For abusing, traumatizing, torturing
Even trafficking
A young child
Me.
Nevermind
The victim was silenced by torture
To the point of death and resuscitation
Accompanied by threats
To her life
Family, closest friends
Beloved pets
Nevermind
She was but a child ‘til recently
Nevermind
She’s one of the lucky few
To escape her abuser’s grasp
And only recently
Nevermind
It takes years to untangle
A perpetrator’s lies
Nevermind
Some crimes against children
Are so heinous
The mind cannot hold
Both memory and sanity
Nevermind
These memories
Don’t typically re-surface
‘Til after the statute of limitations
Nevermind
That to pursue justice
She has to choose to be re-traumatized
As much or more
Than before–
Publicly
In a court of law
The most explicit of details
Her worst memories
Cross-examined and shredded
Plastered all over the papers
Her credibility
Microscopically dissected
Morality and integrity questioned
All because she dared to say
“#MeToo”
Nevermind
That as a 5 year old
She didn’t make note
Of the exact time, place
Location, layout, and decor
Or memorize the clothing
They once were wearing
And while being raped
Write it down
So that twenty years later
In court she could remember
The exact details
(Which you can’t do about lunch yesterday)
And, in the strong likelihood
That she can’t remember every detail
Immediately after
Let alone 20 years later
She will be publicly
Discredited, humiliated, and shamed
And if, by rare happenstance
Her abuser was unsophisticated enough to leave
Physical damage
A child
DNA evidence
Photograph
Video
Email
Confession
Or witnesses
He might get a year, or two
That becomes only six months
After good behavior from a man
Whose victimizing is founded
On charming deception
Now, those threats he made?
Now is when they come due
If they didn’t already
During the court process
To intimidate and re-silence her
We think that
The greater the abuse
The greater the physical damage
But in reality
The greater an abuser’s sophistication
The greater his skill at leaving no trace
But don’t be fooled
This doesn’t mean he didn’t harm
Only that he knew how to harm
In places that didn’t show
Or you wouldn’t look
And while abusers
Often get public sympathy
Victims often have to
Move and change their names
Because public ire and shaming
Is so vicious
So, don’t shame her
If she chooses to not attempt justice
It’s so rarely
Worth the price
And now, excuse me
From sharing more of my story
Society has so much to account for and change before victims aren’t re-traumatized by telling their stories.
No one is entitled to know
A victim’s story
It’s a sacred privilege
Not a right
And trust? It’s earned
And if you force her
You rape her all over again
Society decries victims saying
“Why didn’t they tell?”
But that question is for society
To ask itself
Not for society to ask the children
Now adult survivors
My poem is angry
For I have so very much
To be angry about
Will you let yourself hold it?
Will you not turn away?
Will you let yourself see
The little child I once was
The people who turned their backs on her
Her desperation?
Will you take
The road less traveled?
Marín has begun a long journey toward healing from complex trauma and invites you to be a part of her archaeological pilgrimage through the truths she’s only beginning to know herself. Through tears she’s starting to find beauty again in life, writing, artistic expression, adventure, curiosity, community, spirituality, and bringing goodness to her body. More than anything, she treasures her time with her husband and their adored four-footed friend. Marín cherishes being part of the Red Tent community and to free her to share the rawness of her soul with you, she requests anonymity.
I also say “me, too” and I, too, rail at the callousness and injustice our society heaps on abuse survivors. My childhood trauma was capped by being raped at 27 by a man who hid behind a law enforcement badge–a real coward. Thank you for sharing and for being willing to walk this road of healing and seeking justice.
Madeline, thank you for your courageous response. I’m so sorry that you know of what I speak. Sending hugs to you.
I work at a homeless shelter and daily come in contact with women who have been broken by sexual violence. Thank you for these profound words that speak so painfully yet eloquently of a small part of the pervasive trauma that has been wrongly endured!
Marjorie, you’re so welcome, and thank you for the work that you do. May you be a gentle healing presence for many.
I am holding your words and what you so honestly share about your story. Thank you. I am not looking away.
Hanna, thank you for not looking away, and for holding my story, and that of many others. May it bless you and those who cross your path.
Yes and me too on all accounts. I had a detective look me in the eye and say that with no physical evidence I would be ripped and shredded on the stand. He said, I’m not telling you what to do. I just want you to know that it will be brutal. Again… So I declined. The danger to the internal toddler and the flesh ones asleep in their beds was just too high. Thank you for poetically raging. I felt it with you and felt joined as well. Thank you.
t, thank you for such a sweet, sweet and vulnerable comment. This world needs good lawyers dedicated to protecting women and children to change how the courts handle stories like yours and mine. Thank you for blessing my “poetically raging,” and I’m grateful that it gave you permission to feel the anger from the injustice you have also suffered.
Dear Marin,
The words “I am so sorry” do not even begin to cover an ounce of the horrors of your childhood victimization. Your story–and the similar painful stories of countless others–is overwhelmingly difficult, sad, despicable, unjust, sickening, and terrible. Thank you for telling it anyway, for telling it even when you KNOW most will indeed turn away, change the subject, stammer in shock, go silent with awkwardness, re-traumatize you with shame, judgment, and disbelief.
My heart sees the brave, tedious work you are doing on behalf of yourself and others who do not have the voice or courage or depth of self-awareness yet to tell their stories. Thank you for this profound offering.
Dear Lacey,
Thank you for blessing my writing, and my telling my story though few can hold this piece of it. Especially thank you for seeing the work of restoration I am struggling for.
My small self knows the reality you name. My grown up self knows the system that you name. I hate it. Truly the sophisticated ones leave no trace.
I hope that both of us, having suffered what we have, may mark the world for good in some way that makes it a safer place for children. Thank you once again for your kindness and solidarity with my writing,
My heart breaks for you. I, too was abused. My abuser was my parent. Too many details to share. But as you said the abuser is able to hide your in plan sight. One side of them traumatize, abuse, devalue, make you wonder why you were born. But then, there’s that other side. The one you hear the accolades about. Beautiful person, wish they were my parent, look at the sacrifices they make for their children, you should be grateful. On and on it goes. You stand in the middle wonderful why no sees the truth. Or better yet, why doesn’t anyone speak up for you. Try to rescue. Not turn a blinded eye.
Why 60 years later, even with a hefty dose of Christ and the precious Holy Spirit living in me, I cry uncontrollably because I’m still trying to understand “the why”.
Hurtingnomore, the question of “why” truly never goes away, does it. I bless your tears, that you are able to weep for that little girl who suffered and was so unseen, so missed, so unprotected and betrayed by those who should have rescued her. Your heart will bless those around you because you can see and understand what many choose not to.
Marin, You’ve been acknowledged and heard. This is heart wrenching. I’m so sorry for your pain, suffering and loss. May God heal your heart, mind, spirit, and body. In Jesus Name
Thank you Audrey Ann.
Such a strong start.
Oh my gosh, ‘to the world that changes subjects at the words #Metoo’ wow, where was this poem and why am I just now finding it?
I love the name listing, it adds character and even more depth than what you started with.
The following paragraph is really what is stirring up anger in me, because I am tired of hearing those lines. It’s like they don’t think before they say these things, they don’t stop to put themselves in our shoes.
I love the repetition, I think it helps to silence our mind so that we can think more about the problem and why we should be working towards making a difference, especially at that point in the poem.
Now this is bringing me to tears, thank you so much for writing this. 💞