For the survivors in my life:
We are not just what our perpetrators or abusers or rapists did to us. We are still ourselves, even if we have survived horrible things, things that were in no way our fault or responsibility, things that should never happen to any human being.
Still. We are not what was done to us. We aren’t permanently stuck in the state of “things happening to us.”
I’m a writer, so this is the best way I know how to put it: We have agency and power and beauty and strength and resilience. But most importantly?
We get to write our lives in active voice.
Dirty Thirty. Wow.
I am happy and relieved to finally say good-bye to my twenties. But it’s not “good riddance.” It’s more “fond farewell.”
I have learned SO MUCH over this past decade. Also, let’s be real: I have accomplished a really impressive amount of cool stuff over this past decade, both personally and professionally. I’m not even gonna play at being falsely humble or modest here: I’m totally awesome and I kicked a lot of ass in my twenties. I was brave and forthright and honest and bright. Sometimes I made really stupid decisions, bad mistakes. Sometimes I was way too hard on myself.
But sometimes I was really good to myself. Sometimes, I was bloody spectacular.
So many moments over this past decade were formative. Everything from leaving a horrible abusive relationship at 21 to starting Girl Talk at 25. Graduating college at 22, getting one of two Master’s Degrees at 29 (and being very well on my way to getting my second in May). Starting not one but two manuscripts. The shitty meaningless boring jobs and the work that I loved, the work that fed me. Getting published a lot, teaching a lot, performing a lot. Touring and doing college gigs. Meeting so many sweet people. Making friends who have become beloved family. Building towards actually making a living as a working artist. Bad awkward funny-story sex that still taught me a lot about my body and my boundaries. And the best sex of my entire life, the kind of fucking that left me humming and panting and alive with the utter possibility of the world. Falling in love a few times and becoming a better person for it. Learning so much every time my heart broke open.
But what it all boils down to is this: The biggest thing I learned in my twenties is How To Have A Body. That is the lesson that made all the other joys and discoveries possible. At 20, I was glassy-eyed and constantly underslept, anoretic and running on fumes. To say I was completely fucking dissociated is an understatement. My consciousness floated about 6 inches above my head at all times. Over the past decade, I have gone, slowly and painstakingly but surely, from floating above my head to actually being in my body all the time. To actually listening to my body.
Sometimes I want to send a picture of myself now to my 20 year-old self. She was so small and scared, so trapped and cornered, so hollow. I want to feed her everything she wasn’t letting herself take in — food and rest, safety and love. I want to give her a soft place to land, to remind her of what she deserves. I want to say “Bella, abundanza. Look. Look. Look who you’re going to be and what you’re going to do. You’ll leave all of this behind and you will be so much better and happier for it. You are so brave.”
I’m looking forward to growing into my bravery and bad-assery in my 30s. And I wonder what 40 year old me will want to say to 30 year old me. What that picture will look like.
I bet it’ll be really good, whatever it is.
“Shit Everybody Says To Rape Victims.” Really, really well-done and important.
I love you, sweet friend. Thank you for this brave & honest post.
I just received a comment posted to my Butch Trans Women Panel video
“HOLY SHIT! KILL IT WITH FIRE!!! KILL THEM ALL WITH FIRE!!!”
I reported it, blocked the user, deleted the comment. It’s all become so routine. I realized this has become so common for me over the past year that I wasn’t…
I am actually pumping my fist in the air, reading this. Yes. Yes.
“4. Being OK One day, you’re not going to think about this every day. It may be hard to believe that. I know that whenever something really bad happens to me—not just big traumas, like sexual assault, but also relatively normal but awful things, like losing a job or a…
GO TIARA!!!! :)
!!!!!
This is the exact image going around Facebook too - same blue border. Whoever it is, well done on making both of us viral :)
This is a quote from my speech at SlutWalk Brisbane - video and transcript here. Please watch and pass on. That segment is closer towards the end.
Also if someone can make some fanart that depicts this very character I will love you forever. And possibly make t-shirts, if I can figure out who to give the proceeds to.
(via creatrixtiara)
A friend of mine in the San Francisco Bay Area is starting this support group, and I thought I’d put the word out about it. It looks like it could be a really important space for queer partners of survivors (also, if you are a survivor who is partnered with a survivor, this group will definitely be welcoming to you). See more below!
Gina
A (free!) support group for LGBTQ/queer identified partners of survivors of sexual abuse/incest in the San Francisco Bay Area is in the beginning stages of forming. It will be peer led by an MSW student. This is not a formal therapy group but more of a peer-led support circle.
We will create a safe space to explore our feelings about our partners, their stories, their families, and how they intersect with our own lives. The group will be held for five weeks beginning in May, 2011, with the possibility of continuing in the fall.
If you are interested, please send an email to
queerpartnersofsurvivors@gmail.com
with your:
-first name
-contact info
-reason for wanting to join the group
-are you also a survivor?
-anything else you think is relevant
All the red flags, the little bells ding-ding-dinging in your head, the sign flashing WARNING! WARNING! WARNING… You don’t wanna see it.
Because she is the first person to ever fuck you so good. I mean where it actually feels good, not like invasion or trauma or somebody barging in where they just aren’t wanted, and not like a clueless teenage boy impatiently fumbling around in the backseat of his dad’s station wagon, either. But like the very center of your being is in your cunt, like she is opening up the book of you, reading you with the curve of her cock and the palm of her hand. Because he is the first person you have ever topped, and the way he looks at you, reverently, like you are the most delicious fucking thing on the planet, the way he purrs “Please” and “Yes” and “You are so beautiful,” like his whole world hinges upon your touch, your words, my god, that is it, right there. Being that cherished, being wanted that badly. It fills you to the very brim. It breaks you wide open.
”