Skip to main content

INTERRUPTING VICTIMOLOGY

My voice has finally been amplified in this day and age. It feels refreshing to see movements like the #MeToo sweeping across the globe. I recognize and applaud(very loudly) the women who have chosen to speak up especially in Hollywood where reputation is everything. I am with these women in spirit and in soul. Their stories have worked to introduce into conversation the injustice that is rape .I am late in commenting, because i am practiced in the art of patience, in this matter at least. But I have read only a handful of articles and statements by the perpetrators in question. Their comments and words have been kept to the minimum even to the public. Some of the suspects still work in the business and are protected by brand names and law suits on top of the other.

 This is a clear glass through the context of my society. The African society has commented ever so lightly on the issue. There has been only whispers on it, no matter how fast we retweet or how loud we speak out, about the condemnation of those who rape our vulnerable. Instead, there is a curfew for our children to be back home, there is a warning to not let strangers into our homes, there is an acceptable dress code to not attract these monsters and there is self defense class in case you were finally caught up with. Minimal effort is applied in shaming the act, even the thought of sexual assault, just more therapy sessions for the handful of victims the society chooses to really see.

I believe that until the subject of sexual predators is touched, we will continuously breed a scared, paranoid and petrified generation after the other. We keep on making room for them to grow where we live, where we pray on bended knee, even in our hospitals. We keep nurturing victims, down to the scream-run-fight drill instead of cutting off the dynamics of power that drive these predators. We are quicker to offer a shoulder to cry on rather than wag a warning finger at those that empower such perversion in our communities. I refuse to stay in the #Metoo movement. I choose instead to pass through it, patiently, and modify my language to discourage the use of position and power for sexual predation. It might have been me the victim, but it was him the victimizer.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

COITUS INTERRUPTUS

The world was blown away by a fem positive revolution around 2010/11.My little world at the time was taken by storm by Oprah and Ellen. I decided i had found the word i was looking for. To hear an echo of what was my story from a woman of color and a queer woman both from the across the globe inspired me. I made the mistake of speaking the word to my father. It was at a family dinner, he had just served himself the lion share(oh the African culture) and was settling comfortably into his seat.I turned to my mother and told her we had learnt about rape at school that day. My mother did not miss a beat, she said " That is not table conversation." The very next day and every day after that there was a cold knife on my neck when he came to take me. I realize that I had been captivated by the success stories. I had looked past the process of coming to terms. I tried again, when i met my first girlfriend five years ago, and this time I was ready for the hurt, confusion, guilt and...

#BFF GOALS

My best friend was coming out to me, in the dead of the night, whispering between the upper bunk beds of oh so adventurous high school. I was alert to the details of her new awakened feelings for a woman, even though I had not declared my own sexuality to her yet. My lover and I were still a secret, even to ourselves. At that moment, when she began telling me, I knew I wanted to stand with her, for her. When she began, I knew I was going to be one of those woke best friends, that was when she began.  Then she elaborated these feelings. There had been an object of her burning desire, ‘your new friend,’ she said, ‘I think I want your new friend.’ Maybe at that point, if the lights to our overcrowded dorm had been on, she would have noticed the despair that sketched itself across my face. Maybe, she would have read the words of Don’t you Dare in my eyes and stopped there. Maybe she would have seen how I had to ball up my fists to keep the words in. Maybe she would have reali...

FOR I HAD SINNED

"As every other person." This was a default answer to a question I had been asked countless times in high school: How do you see B? But now i was sitting with her beside me in the counsellor's office, answering a different question: What does she make you feel? The truth is I felt fleeting things, twisted, raw, primitive, soul snatching, heart squeezing, breathtaking, nail biting, toe curling things. I felt world ending, cupid inspired, sex driven, hot rising things for this one woman but i was not ready to say it out loud, I was not ready to hear it bounce from my lips to my ears. I could not bring myself to tell anyone else that every breathe this beautiful human drew was another swell of love within me. I was not prepared to be dumbfounded by the very thought of confessing that this one human held together my very sanity. I was not ready to feel the pangs of emotion that came with such utterance of vulnerability. I was not fit for the battle that lay within a simpl...