You know the little song/poem “Five little monkeys/ jumping on the bed/one fell off and bumped his head.” It’s sung with children and made into little books and movies. Her speech therapist recommended we teach it to her, since she can pick up on and use the words. However…
If we were having coffee, we would talk about the election, even though it isn’t polite to talk politics or religion. You and I talk it, because we feel pretty strongly about it. I was surprised by how bad I felt the morning after the election and scared.
I have talked a little bit about Ferguson about this blog, and I’ve talked about social justice and privilege as well. I want to be an ally in the effort to change the system that eradicates these privileges, but I’m not too sure how to do that, or how to do it effectively. Really be an ally and not “a great white savior,” ’cause I’m not.
At the end of March, President Obama made April 2014 National Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month.
Sexual assault: Unwanted sexual contact that stops short of rape or attempted rape. This includes sexual touching and fondling.
I’ve survived this. I’ve never said it in this way before, but I have survived this. Twice.
Those times weren’t traumatic. They weren’t violent. I knew both the guys. (Many survivors know their assailant!) I didn’t like it and I felt icky afterward; I still feel icky to think about it. Despite this, I never thought of it as sexual assault. I’ve always thought: You know, we were both drinking the first time, and he said he was really ashamed about it afterward. And the second time, well, I was “sewing my oats” that summer and that was just part of it. You got burned. I never considered it assault.
But it was.