MOOP!

When it was time to bike home from dance, my brain presented me with the demand of "Coming Home", by Falco, as what it wanted to listen to. Okay, sure, that's a passionate-yet-tragic one, seems to match mood alright, fine.

And it did match mood! It was good and correct and a little wistful but like powerfully so. And then YouTube went ahead and spun over to a Falco song I don't actually know: The Sound of Music.

Well.
Well.

Like. It's a bop. It's a delight. It's rock and roll, it's Der Kommissar¹ at his best. And it took anything from the brain that wasn't working out and presented with a very simple set of demands: I listen to baller dance music from the eighties and nineties, and in exchange my brain would provide me with serotonin. The good stuff.

So from there we did Rock Me Amadeus and Shake and Egoist and closed with Jeanny. And it was great! It was a really marvelous bike ride! I was dancing and singing along and bouncing and it was so fun!

It is nice that I have access to joy, even when some parts of my world are simply not allowing it.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: you know, Falco. Der Kommissar! Falco!!!! (yes, I am quoting, no I'm not even sure what I'm quoting beyond "my mother" but I think it's an interview thing he did at some point, self-identifying thusly.)

TW: Rape. Hoo boy, trigger warning

Statistically speaking, one in six women will be raped in her lifetime. This is just the statistic we know; it doesn't account for the fact that right now, reporting rape is a minefield all of its own, and many women choose not to subject themselves to that process. I do not know how many of my friends have been raped. I know that five of them are safe because of me, if you trust statistics. So you know. There's that.

Seanan McGuire, writing here on why her books explicitly do not include rape

Jesus fucking Christ.
Jesus fucking Christ.

"I know that five of them are safe because of me, if you trust statistics."

This is an utterly chilling way to think about it, and it hurts because it doesn't actually work like that. Bone deep ache that maybe it would be worth having been Damaged if it meant one-two-three-four-five others would be safe.

But statistics don't work like that, they're not to be trusted, and sexual assault is not a finite resource. Maybe as few as 1/6th of my female¹ have been raped. Maybe as few as 1/3rd have experienced sexual assault. I would be shocked, and happy, to learn that true.

(Happy that "only" 16% of the women in my life have been damaged irrevocably. I heavily suspect it is more.)

"I know that five of them are safe because of me, if you trust statistics."

Sometimes words are too true to easily recover from.

I don't really know where I'm going with this. I'm just reeling, I think.

~Sor
MOOP!

1: FAAB, female-identifying, formerly female-identifying, whatever.

"I'm sorry my neuroses interrupted your flirtation"

--Probably the new subtitle of my User Manual, which has been getting a lot of pages lately, mostly of the 'no, you can't see this' variety. Yes, that makes it the least useful user manual ever, shuttup.

Trigger warning: Rape, rape culture, mental, emotional, sexual abuse. The usual.

There's been another swing in rape/abuse/bullshit seeping into my world. Not directly affecting me, thank gods, but this is the way it always goes. There will be periods of quiet, where I don't think about it so much, and then there will be periods of noise, where I am drowned in the fact that holy shit is society toxic.

Periods in which the dominant message to me becomes "yes Sor, you were raped, you were abused, you can scar all you want, but don't you ever fucking dare forget, because as soon as you do, we'll send another steaming heap of reminder into your lap."

Which is just exhausting. I have done so much work on this, more work than almost anything else in my entire life¹, and it astounds me sometimes to know how I was and how I am now. I have grown so much, from the crying little girl who said "I...kinda understand completely if you don't want to date the stupid crazy chick." the first time she ever told someone. I am not stupid, I am not crazy, this happened and it wasn't my fault. I've paid my dues and repaired my self-worth and taken all the fucking wounds and turned them into scars.

Shouldn't that be enough?

But of course it's not. Because this is a closet --you can't look at someone and know they were abused-- and because it's a closet, I am going to have to come out of it over and over and over again. Every time I have sex for the rest of my life I am going to do so with the knowledge that I was raped before, and I could be raped again, and what do I do to prevent that?

(Because even though it wasn't my fault I was raped, it is my job to keep from being raped again. Society is goddamn toxic, have I mentioned? The things I say without even thinking, without questioning, because that's just the way things work, it horrifies me. I am someone who has spent a very long time learning a great many things about the rape culture, and being able to note examples when it comes up. And this is still how I talk, like it could possibly be my fault. This is why I think society is all the fucked up.)

At any rate, I don't have anything more useful to say except a couple of quotes:

***

There's been a recent video game trailer that is All! The! Rape! Culture!, and so an excellent writer over at Critical Damage tries to explain to the typical-gamer-dudebros what's wrong with that. Somewhere near the end he says:

Rape shouldn't be a women's issue, it should be a men's issue because we are the ones that keep fucking doing it and keep perpetuating the culture. It's about time we took responsibility for that ourselves.

Does rape happen to non-women? Absolutely. Is fighting the rape culture something everyone should work on? Yes please. Are men (especially white, hetero, abled men) given the most credibility in this fucked up society and therefore the most able to be taken seriously when they complain?

Yes. And that's wrong and awful but doesn't stop being true just because it's wrong and awful. Standing up against the rape culture and against rape jokes and against "lol 'seduction'" and against the ideas that women are objects and violence is sexy is hard. But I bet it's a lot easier if you're not worried that by doing so, you're opening yourself up to more of the same. I wouldn't know.

***

Glancing in my quotes file, I find this, which came from Yet Another Post On Fetlife Talking About Being Raped²:

"We both drove and have to pay the parking meter. In an act of extreme chivalry, he pushes my hand aside to insist he pay for my parking. Nothing says, “Look here, you cunt, I’m a gentleman,” like forcing $2.50 in meter fees on someone."

I have a lot of complicated feelings on presents and independence and owing someone and being owned, and a lot of those feelings currently are "stop that Sor, people want to be nice to you, let them".

But people shouldn't want more of me than I am willing to give them, and if I want to be a stubborn prideful ass and pay for my own damn parking, respect that please.

***

Here we go. Here is the big one. I found this yesterday while trawling the archives of Captain Awkward, which is a fantastic advice blog. I want these words printed on index cards that I can hand to people when they are attempting to make my life difficult, and I want them printed on the ceiling so I can always remind myself that the important thing is not that I was raped but that I survived.

One of the upsides to abuse (really!) is this: Somebody has already done just about the worst fucking thing ever to me. What the hell do you think you have on that? Awkward social gathering? Emotionally manipulative hissy fit? Motherfucker, I’ve been raped, this is not even a drop in my bucket of fuck you.

Empowerment through anger? I'll take it.

***

And in the same thread, there is a comment that just...breaks my heart with how perfect it is.

Before you tell your abuse secret, you are The Only One Ever to Experience This Horrible Thing. And seriously, that is so awful. It’s having a waking-up-crying nightmare going on in the back of your head all the time. With bonus shushing from other people who just want to sleep, not hear about your nightmare.

And then you tell anyway, when you have your own reason to tell. And SO OFTEN the person you tell says, oh hey, you too? Let me share my abuse story with you!

And if I think about that it makes me cry, because WE WERE BABIES and they hurt us.

But on the other hand, each one of us thought we were all alone, and we so are not. Each one of us said “I have to build my own foundations because nobody will let me stand in their house” and then we look around and find we are in an effing CATHEDRAL that we all built.

That’s awesome. And terrible, but awesome too.

Raise your hand if, long before I kept this fact public and in the light (instead of buried deep and secret where my rapist wanted it), I told you I was raped, abused, molested, whatever.

And you said "me too".

Because it was a lot of you, and welcome to the cathedral. It's not perfect, but it means that none of us are alone.

***

Is it whiny and self-indulgent to be posting about it? Oh absolutely. There's not a specific trigger, there's not a specific call to arms, I've just been having a week where I've been more slapped across the fact than usual that I was abused and that can't ever go away. But at the same time, there's a dirty bitter part of me that thinks if I can't escape it, then there's no reason you lucky fucks who haven't gone through this bullshit ought to be free either.

Rape happens. Abuse happens. A lot. It's horrible, it's terrifying, it's fact. I've been raped, and the way I fight the rape culture is by being this amazing transcendent thing despite the fact. How are you going to fight?

~Sor
MOOP!

1: And that makes me angry, because holy shit, what if I could have devoted the time and passion and rage and wordcount to something other than making myself functional? What if I hadn't ever been broken, goddess, do you know how much I've spent on this? I have never been more angry at my rapist than right now, because forget taking away innocence or trust or self-worth, I can repair those, you took time away from me you evil beast, and how can I ever get that back?

2: An acceptable number of these to have read would be "zero, maybe one in extreme unfortunate circumstances". I have read literally dozens, and I'm not even particularly active on Fetlife --this is just my small circle of friends commenting on stories that sometimes I see and click through to.

Trigger warnings go both ways: Rape, rape culture, mental, emotional, sexual abuse. Thanks for reading folks.

There are some things that most of the world considers to be bad, or undesirable, and I consider to be something well worth doing. Some of these are obvious, like gender/sexuality queerness¹, some of these are arguable, like my desire to physically hurt people², and some of these are strange even among weirdos, like the fact that I view consensual manipulation as a driving force of a good (including platonic) relationship³.

1: If you have a problem with me being genderqueer or into people of similar genders to myself, get the fuck out, and do not talk to me until you consider me a real person and can respect me thusly.
2: I'm comfortable with this desire. If you're not comfortable with this desire, well, you don't have to be one of the people I hurt.
3: If I do not (at least try to) convince you to be a better person, I am doing something wrong, and you should tell me so I can attempt to do more of this. I am not particularly subtle about this. I do not want to change you in any ways you don't want to change, but I do want to help you be as amazing as you dream of. A very basic example of this sort of thing is tricking people into doing distasteful tasks, by asking for evidence of the first step, and providing enthusiasm along the way.

Another of those third category things is the issuing of ultimatums. I feel that much of the world views the idea of an ultimatum as always, or often, bad --especially in relationships. An ultimatum in a relationship is always bullying, or emotional manipulation, or abuse⁴.

I don't think that's true.

4: Now, I'm sure there are cases where relationship ultimatums can be viewed as abuse --especially any situation in which the partner receiving the ultimatum is unable to take the option of "leave the relationship". I am only interested in situations where the ultimatum has two choices --change or leave-- and both are able to be performed without significant loss other than the relationship itself.

Also, this is a thing that is very dangerously diluted. One ultimatum about a big thing, that is probably okay. If you or your partner are threatening the end of the relationship every week, I am concerned towards the health of that relationship.

Because here's the deal: we all have unshakable, unchangable, things about ourselves and our relationships. A very common one is "I cannot be with someone who loves(romantic) more than just me". Or "All the sex I have must be consensual". Or "Absolutely no serial murderers". There are traits out there that are completely incompatible with my -or your- desires and needs. And I think it's perfectly fair, when one of those traits presents itself in an already running relationship, to present the partner with "I can't date someone who does x, change or leave".

Now, there's a risk to that. There's a really big risk: They might leave. Or perhaps more likely, they might tell you they cannot change, putting the onus on you to leave. And that sucks, and is hard, and there's a lot of socialization out there towards giving them a second chance.

But, there's a reason you presented it as an ultimatum, and that reason is because you cannot deal (mentally, emotionally, physically, spiritually, whatever) with that trait being present in your relationship. Do not let yourself be trapped with something that is that severely damaging to you --and if it's not something you'd consider damaging, do not present it as an ultimatum in the first place.

What this all kinda boils down to is the idea that, to be healthy in a relationship, you have to know what you want, and what you need, and you have to be able to express those wants and needs. You have to be willing and able to communicate to your partner(s) about your desires. If there are things which you will be unable to cope with, things that are IMPORTANT to your quality of life, you need to be able to have those things. More importantly, you deserve to have those things, and you deserve to have partners who will work with you and help you to achieve them --if they can't give those things to you, maybe you will be able to work something out where you can get your needs from another source.

And maybe sometimes it's easier to be single, or in a situation where you can be looking for partners who will give you what you need, instead of suffering with a partner with whom you're unhappy.

In closing, there's a musical by the guy who did Rent. It's called "...tick, tick, BOOM!" and has pretty good music. "Louder Than Words" is one of my favourite songs, in part because it has the following lyrics:

Why
Would we rather put ourselves through hell
Than sleep alone at night?

Don't sacrifice your health and happiness for a warm bed. There are a lot of people in the world, and a lot of ways to meet them. Find someone who will give you what you need. Find someone you deserve.

~Sor

The last bit of my quotes file, with commentary. There is also parts one and two.

( Quotes, and other words worth saving! )

~Sor
MOOP!

10:10:09 PM Just Sor: I love my sister
10:10:26 PM Just Sor: Which is to say, I just ran into the playroom to show her the stick of butter that was down to just saying "butt"
10:10:46 PM Just Sor: I was pointing at it and going "look look look", she responded by singing along with her music, which was As Cool As I Am
10:10:59 PM Just Sor: We both sang it for a couple lines, and then she points at the butter and goes "it says butt!"
10:11:01 PM Just Sor: And we die of laughing

I told this to a couple people, and then I informed Rackle, who is currently the greatest person in all of EnZed (sorry Tho, I still love you, I promise!)

10:13:12 PM Rackle!: XD
10:13:23 PM Rackle!: Hahahahahhaa
10:13:26 PM Rackle!: Awesome
10:13:30 PM Just Sor: Yeah!
10:13:40 PM Rackle!: Also
10:13:43 PM Rackle!: You said butt
10:13:45 PM Rackle!: XD
10:13:46 PM Just Sor: HAHAHA
10:13:53 PM Just Sor: I am literally laughing out loud right now
10:13:57 PM Rackle!: BUTT
10:14:01 PM Just Sor: BUTT
10:14:06 PM Just Sor: *shakes her butt*
10:14:32 PM Rackle!: BUTTT *points*
10:15:05 PM Rackle!: Hahahahahaha
10:15:08 PM Just Sor: ARE YOU POINTING AT MY BUTT?!?!!?!??!!?!?!
10:15:13 PM Just Sor: *points at YOUR butt!*
10:15:14 PM Just Sor: HA
10:15:16 PM Just Sor: NOW WHAT
10:15:22 PM Just Sor: (Hahahahah, what rhymes with butt)
10:15:22 PM Rackle!: LOL YOU SAID BUTT AGAIN
10:15:24 PM Just Sor: Also, we are SO MATURE
10:15:37 PM Rackle!: NOT AS MATURE AS MY BUTT
10:18:55 PM Just Sor: *DIES*
10:20:16 PM Just Sor: I'm posting this to livejournal, I hope that's okay

The end!

~Sor
MOOP!

(butt)

Author's Note: This post was written a few months ago, before I left Boston for the summer. I am only just now getting around to posting it as I clean up my desktop and put things away on my computer. Enjoy!

There are a multitude of tiny ways that make me think I'm faking it, loving too intensely, caring too much, altogether certain that there is a correct way to live ones life, and I am doing it decidedly Wrong. This is not an uncommon thought, I suspect, though also not a comfortable one. Why can we not accept that maybe this uncertainty is such a crucial part of humanity already?

Of course maybe the secret is not that the uncertainty itself is human, but that aspects of the uncertainty are universal. Little scraps of the world, when two people gasp at the idea that they share their strangeness. A spark of connection, where it is revealed that, reassuringly, we are not alone.

That being said.

"Everything has its place," her father had once said to her when she was young, showing her the long cedar drawers of the card catalogue in the great library where he worked, the brass brackets on its face shining like a policeman's buttons. "But more imoortant, everything's place is labeled. Order is transitive: order one precious thing and order the universe."

"Do I have a place in there?" November had asked, peering over the rim of one of the long boxes.

"Of course, baby," he had said, and with his big brown hand cuffed in plaid and smelling of lemon rinds from her mother's morning tea, riffled through a drawer and pulled a card from the stack.

006.332. The Girl Who Circumnavigated Fairyland in a Ship of Her Own Making. H. F. Weckweet, 1923. Gleiss & Schafandre: New York.

She had taken it seriously. Even then she had not known another way of doing things. The book was on the seventh floor and she had walked the steps, every one, knowing that this was the only proper way to proceed to her place in the universe -an elevator is cheating. The book was small, in a brown leather cover embossed faintly with a little girl standing naked on a raft, straight as a mast, her stance determined, holding up her dress as a sail. It was, at the time, the oldest thing she had ever seen.

November had read it exactly two hundred and seventeen times, not counting unfinished perusals, since that day. It was, in fact, a long series of novels for children, but November did not care for the others: her father had not pulled them from the great catalogue and called them hers. She had not climbed seven flights of stairs for them. She had spent her birthday this year, her thirty-first, reading it cover to cover, dawn to dawn/ The girl in the book was named September, and she had known that this was meant for her, a message from Hortense Francis Weckweet and her father. Perhaps if the girl had not been called September, November would not have read it two hundred and seventeen times.

Pgs 124-5, Palimpsest by Catherynne Valente

Oh I see. That entry I made a few months ago, babling about the silly little book with the pirates?

I am not alone.

~Sor
MOOP!

ETA: Oh really? Blockquote won't do italics? That's curious. (and damn you society for ruining words I like --I would so rather be able to say "that's rather queer, isn't it?" but noooo.)

ETA2: No wait, I'm just an idiot who can't do HTML.

Quote of the Day: "Where did you COME from?!" exclaimed by a big dude with a lot of metal in his face and a loud voice. That's right folks --I so very outclassed every other audience member at the Lips Down on Dixie shadowcast of Rocky Horror tonight, that the cast/crew members had to specifically find and compliment me after the show.

It's really nice being That Fucking Good.

~Sor
MOOP!

Meeeeeeeeeeme!

( the ten meme )

It's over!

~Sor
MOOP!

1: Sorceress is a title. Sorcyress is a name.
2: R = None of your damn business, D = my real last name, A = None of your damn business.
3: 'of the family of'
4: 'of the location/world of'
5: 'of the god'

6: And in all honesty, "sneaking out? No."
7: Used here to mean "independent" and not "Indie"
8: Not actually proven and probably not a fact.