The long reaching fingers of rape culture

If you haven’t read this post, do that first. Second, I am fully aware of how lucky I’ve been. Yes, these “long reaching fingers” have touched me but so many women have had it so much worse.

The guy who proposed a few weeks ago is back. I took out many of the details from the original post but a few more are necessary now. I’ll call him Lee (not his real name). Lee approached me after Mass one Sunday in Lahore, this spring. I was polite but definitely not warm. Over the next few months, he would frequently try to talk to me after Mass. My body language should have been a clue about my lack of interest. It wasn’t. I didn’t share much about myself or my family. Each time, I tried to walk by hoping Lee wouldn’t notice me and I could get to my car without talking to him. I even started covering my head in church like most of the other women so my blonde hair wouldn’t stick out. None of it worked. I was glad when Ramadan came because it made moot his request to have dinner with me.

Then it was June and I was leaving Pakistan. I figured this would be the end of Lee in my life even though I did agree to his request about being friends on Facebook. Again, I was wrong. For awhile, the messages were short, albeit frequent. Mostly asking I was and how life was going. As in person, I tried to be polite but not encouraging. My short replies and long response time didn’t seem to send any messages to him about my lack of interest.

Around late August, things started getting more intense. First, Lee asked if he could talk to me. I ignored it. Then, he proposed. I was shocked. My response was that I didn’t even know him really and I definitely didn’t feel the same. He then tried to impress me with his research of the town where I grew up. His messages wouldn’t stop despite my constant replies that I wasn’t interested. Eventually, I told him there was no chance and I was going to unfriend him on Facebook since he wouldn’t leave me alone. What followed was five weeks where he was completely out of my mind. Until yesterday.

I’ve woken up the past two days to messages from Lee. Yesterday he asked me how I was and how life was in Guatemala. I didn’t respond. This morning he said, “I know you’re angry with me. I apologize forgive me please rose.” Ironically, I wasn’t angry until he contacted me again.

So what does this have to do with rape culture?! Lee, like so many guys, won’t believe me when I say, “NO.” He believes that because he has feelings for me, I owe him something. Maybe not consciously, but that’s what his actions reveal. If he asks enough times, he thinks I will fall madly in love with him and want to spend the rest of my life with him.

And, in a twisted way, he could even try to blame me. After all, I was nice to him (because I don’t like to be rude). I dressed attractively (because the lose, lightweight traditional clothes in Pakistan are so darn comfortable). I kept going to church where he would see me (because the time was most convenient for me). I let him find me on Facebook (because, again, I can be too nice for my own good). Despite the message sent by my body language, short replies, long response time, trying to avoid him in person, multiple messages saying I’m not attracted to him, blunt demand that he not contact me, and unfriending him on Facebook, Lee STILL doesn’t believe that I mean it when I say, “NO.”

Rape doesn’t happen out of nowhere. It doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It comes from an attitude that because a guy has feelings for a woman or girl, she owes him something. It comes from the attitude that “No doesn’t really mean no.” It comes from the attitude that “If I ask/bother/pressure her enough, no will become yes.” It comes from the idea that if a woman is seen living her life - be it wearing a shalwar kameez in a Pakistani Catholic Church or getting drunk in a miniskirt - she is “available and
willing” for whatever a guy wants. I don’t expect that Lee would go so far as to rape me even if he wasn’t thousands of miles away. The same cannot be said for every guy.

Lee’s not the first guy who has acted this way to me. Chances are highly likely , he won’t be the last. Yes, I’ve been blessed to have been barely brushed by these “long reaching fingers.” But why do they  have to touch any of us at all?

“But, but, but...” you might splutter, “I/my son/brother/etc would never rape someone.” Good. I hope not. However, do you accept no as an answer? Do you push (past a reasonable persistence... if you’re not sure, you’ve probably gone too far already) for a different response? Do you defend women when other guys are talking about us as if we owe them something? Do you believe women when say they’ve been assaulted or raped? Do you try to put the blame on the victim? Do you tell people it’s, “a scary time to be a guy,” because there is a chance that a few of the actually reported rapes (remember, the significant portion are never reported) are false despite the fact that, statistically
speaking, at least one of myself or my three sisters will be raped in our lives?

At the end of the day, I can talk or write until I’m blue in the face. So can every woman. It won’t make a difference. There is no appropriate way for us to act to avoid unwanted contact or pressure. The change must come from men. Until men accept that women don’t owe them anything, nothing will ever change. If you are a man who truly wants to support the women in your life, change starts with you. Stand up for us when others are discussing us as objects or we’re the topic of all too common “locker room talk,” no matter where it happens. I know there are good men out there. You can make a positive difference. For me. For my sisters. For my friends. For every woman who wishes it was possible for us to affect this desperately needed change.

PSA

No, I'm not starting up my blog again. At least not right now. I just had to post this here because it is the only place that a certain person from my past might come in contact with me. This person refused to accept that I could not explain what a panic attack feels like. He may never see this and I'm fine with that.

If you ever see this (you know who you are), please know that, while I am eternally thankful that you are not part of my life anymore, I hope that you find the very specific person you are looking for.


What anxiety and panic attacks really feel like:


http://blog.relationshipsurgery.com/after-seeing-these-9-images-anxiety-and-panic-attacks-all-make-sense/

Reality sucks

During my year in Budapest, every few days I would have "pinch me" moments. Those moments where it hit me again: I actually am in Budapest. I'm living in my favorite city in the world. Being in Europe is my "normal." I'm not 4000+ miles away from my favorite ice cream and pastry shops. I have a full-time job with benefits and can afford life.

After being back in the States for a few months, I'm having those "pinch me" moments again. Only this time I want the pinch to wake me from a bad dream even though I know this is reality. Make all of the statements above negative and that's pretty much what these moments strike me with.

And, it's even bigger than that. I swore when I started college that I was never moving back to Steubenville. Now, my options are live here with my parents or be homeless. That's not much of a choice. On top of being back in the States, being stuck in Steubenville is like adding insult to injury. Unless you go to the university, there is very little of interest or value in this town. I don't know when I've ever felt so trapped. There are simply no opportunities here. I finally have a job (part time in a walmart bakery) but still don't have a car and pretty much anything meaningful requires a trip to Pittsburgh which requires use of a car, gas money, and large amounts of time.

If I was still in a city, I think things would be better but, as it is, I'm not. I keep getting information about auditions for all kinds of choirs and shows in Pittsburgh but, if I'm honest with myself, I'm just too far away for that to really be feasible. Which means I'm stuck with VERY minimal musical opportunities and little chance to improve them. Church choir, while good, only goes so far. The one community group which I've joined is disbanding after the next concert and, even if it wasn't, I wouldn't stay with them because the director's rehearsal and conducting skills, or COMPLETE lack thereof, make me want to walk out every week. I *am* splurging and driving into Pittsburgh every other week or so for voice lessons with a new teacher. Unfortunately, while they are going as well as they can, we have to go painfully slowly as we work to correct years of bad (or not ideal or something) technique that I had drilled into me. I wish God would give me a new dream based on the way this one is falling apart but that doesn't seem to be happening.

To make an already bad situation even worse, my depression is at the worst that it's been in years if not ever. I have no interest in doing much of anything and find plodding through the day about the most I can handle. It's as if, rather than seeing a light at the end of the tunnel, I'm realizing that I've driven into a cave. My doctor isn't helping as it takes four months to get an appointment (I wish I was exaggerating). Since it's easier to see the nurse practitioner, I'm going tomorrow but since she hasn't been treating me since the beginning I'm worried that it will be harder to move forward compared to my doc who knows all the different meds I've already tried. I'm furious with my ex for nagging me into stopping my meds and myself for caving to his radical views. There is so much rage bottled up inside toward him that some days I almost want to write a nasty email telling him just how badly he screwed me up mentally and emotionally. I know he didn't "mean" to but it doesn't change the facts.

As for God, I know He's out there. And I guess I believe He cares. Maybe. I'm just spiritually dead. Oh, sure, I'm going through the motions: reading my Bible, working through a spiritual book, going to daily Mass most of the time, praying before meals, etc. but mostly because I have time and I feel like I "should" go. I love the new translations of the Mass except for one in the prayer after the Our Father --

"Deliver us, Lord, we pray, from every evil, graciously grant peace in our days, that, by the help of your mercy, we may be always free from sin and safe from all distress, as we await the blessed hope and the coming of our Saviour, Jesus Christ" the priest prays.

I can't help but give a silent, morbid chuckle every time I hear it. If the prayer is asking (as it appears) to be kept safe from distress then either God's not listening or He and I have very different opinions of what constitutes distress. I'm not saying that things couldn't be worse (which, with my luck, they probably will become) or trying to imply that no one has ever dealt with more crap than all this, but I'm not exactly walking through a field of daisies.

I could do that... really, I could

That's my most frequent feeling when I read through job postings these days. Because I honestly feel that I would be able to do many of the jobs I see listed. Retail, food service, administrative assistant, secretary, etc. the list could go on. But, I have no proof that I can do any of those things. Looking at my resume, people have no reason to believe I'm capable of much more than teaching working with costumes (and my ability to do one of those is shady at best).

No one wants you unless you've got the experience.
And how do you get the experience without a job?!
It's a vicious cycle.

And, what makes it worse, is I feel like I have no direction. This afternoon, it hit me that I have no idea of where I would like to be in 5, 10, 25 years. None. Frankly, what I'd like to be doing is singing, but that's a slow process at best and a pipe dream at worst. Because, again:

You have to have the experience to apply for graduate school and young artist programs.
And how do you get that experience outside of graduate school or young artist programs?!
Yet another vicious cycle.

Happy New Year?

I'd love to think that 2012 will be better than 2011. I wish I could believe it. That there would be fewer

• friends stabbing me in the back
  
• unwanted moves
• full-time jobs lost
• problems finding a car
• toxic relationships
• persons in positions of authority randomly going crazy
  
• weeks of work lost due to illness

Unfortunately, I'm not much of an optimist. Never have been. Of course, the fact that I begin the year having been forced to move back in with my parents with no car and no job doesn't help much. Nor does the fact that all I want to do is sing and I'm evidently not good enough/there aren't enough opportunities for that to be a possibility. Add in the fact that I'm not qualified to do much and the future looks even grimmer. By the fall I had quit thinking "things can't get worse" which is good considering they definitely continued to. I just don't know where the next blow will come from. It's like I'm running a gauntlet and can't even see the objects before they strike me. The next catastrophe could come in the area of

• work (hard since I've got nothing at the moment)
  
• living situation (although, I'm already at my parents' so it's hard to get worse unless I was actually homeless -- unlike "technically" homeless which I was last month)
  
• health (that was the "lightest" of my problems last year... "just" bronchitis which lasted a month, kept me out of work for two weeks, and left a cough which still lingers)
  
• friends (not something I like, but it is almost a relief when people show their true selves... the effects can be particularly unpleasant, however)

but there's no way of telling which of these (or something completely different) it will be.

I'm so sick of the "things will get better... this is just Calvary before Easter... blah blah blah..." crap that I've been getting from people (add 25 fail points if the person that says it contributes/has contributed to the disaster). Frankly, it's trite and makes me want to vomit: particularly when it's from people who aren't dealing with their whole life falling apart around them.

No, this is not a particularly positive way to start the new year. At least, hopefully, by expecting the worst, there's always a possibility that I will be pleasantly surprised. Right?

Open Letter To My Soon To Be Former Landlady

So, I'm getting kicked out of my house, thanks to my nutso landlady. Because she is, quite literally, crazy, I know that nothing I could say to her would break through her skull. To satisfy my need to express my feelings towards her, despite the fact that she will never see this, I am writing this letter. I'll call her Ursula, because it's a good villain name (and it's what her parents conveniently named her).

Dear Ursula,

I was very sad to see the email you addressed to me for a number of reasons. After past experiences, I am not surprised to see you make such a bizarre and over-reactive action of telling me to leave. Your handling of the situation, however, really saddens me. To say that I am not angry would be a lie, but stronger than the anger is pity.

Yes, I pity you. I cannot imagine living with such OCD/anal retentive-ness that a simple request for privacy in a room I am paying to use would result in throwing me out of your house. That must be a very difficult life. The idea of being so upset over being asked not to clean a room that you have no reason to ever be in and to let the people who are paying you for the use of the room arrange the furniture in the way most comfortable to them is unfathomable to me. If these are considered "unreasonable demands," (your wording, I believe) especially when phrased in such a respectful, diplomatic way as C. (my roommate) and I did, then I can only imagine what the reaction would be should we have actually wanted something extreme. Thankfully, we will never have to find out.

You may notice that I mentioned C. and I phrasing things together. This is because that is exactly what happened. In reading (if you actually did) our email, you should have seen that everything was "we" vs. "I," it was signed by both of us, and sent from her email address. Most people would have interpreted that the email was from both of your tenants. I am at a loss as to how we could have spelled it out more clearly. The fact that you singled me out in your response and told me that while I have until December 15th to leave, C. can stay as long as she likes was appalling. As was the fact that you sent the email, addressed to me, to her address. I think it is incredibly sad that a grown woman would stoop to such levels. We have communicated many times via email both when I was living here previously and also in the past two months. There was absolutely no reason to attempt to avoid dealing directly with me. That was nothing short of childish. The same can be said for the additional emails which you sent to C. mentioning me and your asking that I leave prior to contacting me personally. Your assurances to her that you hope she will continue living here are laughable. What incentive could she possibly have for staying now that it is painfully obvious that we have no rights as renters and are, essentially, paying you for the privilege of house-sitting for you?

In conclusion, I will be out of your house well before your deadline. Additionally, I will make sure to be gone this Thanksgiving weekend while you are here so as not to disturb you by anything "unacceptable" that my presence may entail. Finally, if I ever see you advertise this room on craigslist or anything similar (which I anticipate you will be doing soon), please be assured that I will be writing to the website and/or posting an ad of my own warning people. While I will not stoop to your level and make unintelligible statements (They are crazy, wahh, wahh, wahh) I will absolutely tell them the truth. That you do not consider the renters to have any rights, they may not arrange things in their room, you do not want them to change the temperature so that they are comfortable, and, above all, you will give them no lease so if you change your mind about them living here on a whim, they have no recourse when you evict them.

Sincerely,
Rose

An old story with modern application

A hermit was meditating by a river when a young man interrupted him. "Master, I wish to become your disciple," said the man. "Why?" replied the hermit. The young man thought for a moment. "Because I want to find God."

The master jumped up, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck, dragged him into the river, and plunged his head under water. After holding him there for a minute, with him kicking and struggling to free himself, the master finally pulled him up out of the river. The young man coughed up water and gasped to get his breath. When he eventually quieted down, the master spoke. "Tell me, what did you want most of all when you were under water."

"Air!" answered the man.

"Very well," said the master. "Go home and come back to me when you want God as much as you just wanted air."

That is exactly how I feel about music right now. I NEED music in my life. It's not just that I want to be singing. I NEED to be singing. There is as longing in the depths of my soul to be learning new music, polishing old pieces, and performing. Unfortunately, I must not be at the drowning level yet as my attempts to do anything more than sing in the choir at my parents' church (where I don't even live anymore) are being thwarted no matter how hard I try.

I wish

- that it wasn't absolutely necessary to own a car in this country (unless you live in a major city)

- that I wasn't dealing with major chemical imbalances at an already extremely stressful time of my life (thanks, ex-boyfriend ... appreciate it immensely) **Note, I am gradually going back to my standard dose... but it will take time for it to work it's way back into my system

- that I was a stronger person and could have just dealt with the chaos that was my former job.

- that God would just leave me alone if He's not going to help with anything.

- that praying didn't seem totally pointless.

- that I had something to do with my life other than sit like a huge useless blob on my parents' couch searching for cars which get sold before I can see them or are too far away from Nowheresville for my parents to drive me there or have broken emergency brakes which the dealer "forgets" to tell me about or are in some other way completely unsuitable.

- that I could actually believe that God has a plan and wants something good for my life.

.... I think next time, I'll just wish for something realistic... like a pony.