Grabbed by the Pussy, Again

As a woman, I have been grabbed in the pussy by an astonishing number of men and as every woman out there knows, it happens way too early to most of us. The first time I was literally (and I am using the word literally, literally) grabbed in the pussy by a "man" was when I was in the 7th grade. It was a fellow classmate and it was in the middle of the school day at my locker.

I hardly knew this guy. We had homeroom together and that was pretty much the extent of our relationship. We didn't get along. He would pick on me -- maybe not daily but definitely weekly and our homeroom teacher, although not a fan of his, didn't do anything to ever stop him. Generally speaking, I didn't sit quietly and just take his abuse. If he picked on me, in my 7th grade language, I let him know that his presence in my life was unnecessary and unwanted and that above all else, he was a dick.

One day, standing at my locker, I was bending over to put books and whatnot away while he was walking down the hall. As he came by, he reached his grubby hand between my legs and grabbed a hold of my 14 year old pussy.

To this day, I remember that moment clearly. I remember how disgusting it felt to have someone, uninvited, touch me there. I remember feeling used and dirty as soon as it happened, looking around to see if anyone at all had seen. My fucking 14 year old emotions couldn't process what had happened. Part of me wanted there to be someone else who witnessed it, to be enraged with me. But honestly, the bigger part of me felt ashamed and embarrassed. I wanted to crawl into a hole and curl up. I wanted to sink into the ground and disappear.

The sick and sad thing is, that wasn't the first time a guy touched me inappropriately and without consent. And I know, as a woman, I'm not alone there at all. And the reason why this piece of shit kid felt like it was okay for him to do something like that is because of attitudes like our current President Elect's.

Men have, since the beginning of time, used a woman's body to berate her, shame her, stifle her, belittle her and own her. Not all men. This isn't a men-bashing piece but it is honest and these are just facts. Countries have excused it. People have ignored it. Women have accepted it. And religions have condoned and enforced it.

Now that this election is behind us, we stand a nation divided. Those who didn't vote for Trump are being urged to make nice but we've crossed a line that you can't uncross.

Almost exactly half of our voting nation chose the candidate that represents hate. Almost half of our country chose a candidate who bragged about sexual assault, who was openly and fiercely racist and who has proposed several courses of action straight out of World War II.

We have people who talked about Obama's birth certificate and denounced him as President for eight years calling us crybabies for being upset that we demanded an America that doesn't include police harassment of people of color and college rapists who serve little to no time and were denied by our family, friends and neighbors. We had people that we worship with cast a vote that chose their political agenda over American civil rights.

How is it we're supposed to move on from this?

How is it we're supposed to look at you the same way?

How is it we're supposed to trust you?

President Elect Trump is the least of our problems. Sure, putting the words "Commander in Chief" next to his name is tantamount to inciting war and alienating allies but the healing our country needs to do is between its citizens.

Half of us are either in the middle of reeling from just finding out that our rights as human beings literally mean less than nothing to the other half of the country or our belief that we've been discriminated against our entire lives has just been confirmed once again. And the other half is a fucked up combination of people who truly think that minorities of all kinds are in fact less worthy and people who don't seem to realize that there is no more important issue than civil rights and by choosing anything else, they've stabbed their fellow human in the back.

This is the world we live in now and to deny it is the equivalent of burying your head in the sand. You not only expect us to immediately move on but you demand it of us and deny your part in it. You do so in hypocritical tweets, revisionist history Facebook posts and memes and gifs that should embarrass you in the core of your soul rather than make you laugh.

You are sick. And not in the way you probably think I mean. Yes, your words and actions are putrid and vulgar but what I'm talking about is the way your mind works. You are deniers of fact. You refuse see to what is plainly in front of you. You look truth in the face and you call it a lie.

You call us liars.

And how can any good be done, how can any healing ever occur, how can any civilization grow when this basic, fundamental battle exists?

It can't.

It won't.

People are not stopping for a reason.

Protests are about a people refusing to be silenced. It's about people who have been shackled for too long, whose voices have been gagged their entire lives, and whose pussies have been grabbed too many times taking what's rightfully theirs.

Trust me, I'm truly sorry you have a problem with this. What I can't understand is why.

Understanding

You keep telling me to understand. To be quiet. To let it go.

You call me a crybaby, a whiner, a troublemaker, a child.

You say I'm a hypocrite. You say I'm spewing the hate I rally against. You call my pain a temper tantrum.

You tell me it's my job to unite us as you call me a loser.

Well, to you I say, if you want us to unite please make me understand. Please explain to me how any political issue you have is more important than human rights.

Please teach me how whatever it is that you deem so important is worth me or someone else sacrificing their basic human rights in exchange.

Please give me your take on how equal rights has varying definitions for varying groups of people. Please help me to understand why it's okay for you to move onto the specifics of designing your perfect "pursuit of happiness" while some of us are still struggling to get their rightful amount of "life" and "liberty".

There are some things you need to understand.

Whatever you say, however you treat me, no matter what you do -- I will always be your equal. You can never change that. That's not up to you to decide. The same rights that you were born with, I was too.

If you're allowed to live where you want, so am I.

If you're allowed to marry who you want, so am I.

If you're allowed to tell people they can't touch you, so can I.

If you're allowed to be comfortable in your own skin, so I am.

If the police aren't allowed to harass you for no valid reason, they aren't allowed to harass me either.

If you're allowed to walk down the street without being yelled at, poked at, shoved, sworn at, grabbed at or shot at -- so am I.

If you're allowed to apply for a job, so am I.

If you're allowed access to necessary medicine, so am I.

If you're not blamed when someone commits a crime against you, I shouldn't be either.

If you're allowed to practice whatever faith speaks to you, so can I.

If you're allowed to receive any and all life-saving procedures, so am I.

If you want to eat at a certain coffee shop, use a certain bakery or hire a certain photographer, I'm allowed to hire them too.

And if you and I are virtual carbon copies of each other in the workforce except for our sex organs or skin color or any other such quality and you're earning a certain amount of money, I better be making the fucking same amount of money for my same amount of hours, effort, brain power and loyalty.

These are areas we don't seem to agree on. You seem to think that these are areas up for debate. They aren't. You and I must share a planet. I'm okay with that. I'm even okay with us sharing a country, state or town. There's just one ground rule and as long as that rule is followed, our differences of opinion can be fairly easily worked with.

The rule?

You and I are equals. And we will be treated as such.

End of rule.

End of discussion.

End of patience.

The Win is in The Fight

I am an artist, first and foremost. I have known since the beginning of my memories that I was born to write. That has always been my identity. That has always been how I've seen myself.

I glory in that. I wear it like a badge of honor. I have a gift. A real gift. I sit. I put pen to paper or fingers to keyboard and words just seem to appear. I see myself go through the entire process but in some very real ways, it feels magical. I don't map things out. I don't make writing a science. I don't sketch before I draw my words.

I have no qualms with those who do. It's just not me.

I love my gift. I cherish it. It makes me proud.

But there are conditions to the type of gift I have.

I know, deep down in my soul, that it is my duty to live the life of an artist. It is in the very fibers of my being that I use my voice and my art to try and make the world a better place.

I like writing fiction a lot. I like writing everything a lot, to be honest. But more so than that, it is my privilege to turn letters into text into ideas. It is my honor to help speak the important thoughts and beliefs that will hold our planet and its people together.

My soul signed a contract before I was given this gift and I feel that pact in the way I move, the way I think, the way I love. My voice will never be silenced. I have made sure that is impossible. And my voice will be used to promote freedom, equality and love.

IDGAF

Hey, Everybody! Welcome to my new blog...I Don't Give a Fuck. It's a blog where I tell you things...that I don't give a fuck about.

Come, let's take a journey together.

I don't give a fuck...if people who spent the last 8 YEARS talking about Obama's birth certificate are saying I'm acting like a child because I'm upset by the recent election results.

I, for real, very seriously do 👏🏻not 👏🏻give 👏🏻a 👏🏻fuck 👏🏻about 👏🏻this👏🏻.

And let's learn why, shall we?

Because if you're one of those people that fucking bitched for eight fucking years about this American man's birth certificate (and we all know why) and now, one day after the election, you start telling me that I'm whining if I'm upset by the election results...well...that makes you what is called a "hypocrite". AND I do not give a fuck about a hypocrite's opinion of me and my behavior.

Go ahead and talk until you're blue in the face. Call me a whiny child. Laugh at me and say it's because I called Trump a bully and now I'm being one too. Please feel free to go ahead and do all of that and do it with flourish and gusto, if you like.

And let's learn why, shall we?

Because if you don't know the difference between bullying people and crying out that once and for all you will not let people bully you and your fellow humans then I don't think that you're very smart. And if you're not smart enough to understand how someone who commits sexual assault (just picking one example, please feel free to swap out with any number of unacceptable issues) and then brags about it is different from someone saying they will never be okay with someone who commits sexual assault and brags as their President then I, for sure, don't trust your judgement on anything, let alone me. And if I don't think that you're smart enough to judge me then I don't give a fuck what you say about me.

And once and for all, let's learn why, shall we?

Because apparently, I'm too complex for you to understand. Apparently the concept of fundamental human rights is too fucking complex for you to understand. Apparently you think that whatever issue you have, whatever people you're afraid of, whatever part of the government you deem unsuitable, whatever glitch in the matrix you think needs fixing is more important than every human's basic civil rights. And if that's too complex for you, I don't have the capacity to dumb down my brain in order to communicate my people's thoughts and concepts to you.

And sweethearts, if I can't do that then I don't give a fuck to waste my time being upset over anything you say or any way you may criticize my words or actions.