From Mexico to Steubenville

So, I learned about the Steubenville rape case last week after I got back from traveling around the left portion of the country (and even some of Mexico) without consistent access to facebook for about a week. I’ve read several articles, and I have to say that I’m still not sure how it makes me feel. To be honest, the past week or two has been pretty triggering.

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Over the weekend, I went on a dance cruise to Mexico with a little over a hundred dancers, a great majority with whom I am friends or at least know on a smile-and-nod-and-sometimes-dance-with basis. We went to a bar, where the “waiters” (a.k.a. booze thugs) tried to pressure drunk tourists into letting themselves be abused by the staff. Suffice it to say, for the men there was painful (or so I heard) nipple flicking, and the women’s breasts were touched by strangers, albeit in a fashion where the strangers were holding the women’s wrists and using the women’s own hands to fondle their breasts (over [most of] their clothing). Oh, and one woman had a man’s face repeatedly smashed into her crotch while she was held upside down and being bounced up and down. Both genders had beer and tequila shot down their throats while being held against a booze thug from behind by the throat/chin so they couldn’t move.

Now, to clarify, yes, everyone who participated had to say, “Yes.” However, it was also plain to see that none of the individuals knew exactly what was going to happen to them. Additionally, I watched my friend, whom I love and admire, struggle against the man holding him once he realized what it entailed, and manhandled into submission.

And yet he *STILL* gave the person a $10 tip when it was done.

Now, maybe he was okay with the outcome. Maybe the female who had her ladybits molested by someone (who wasn’t *quite* a stranger; they had met the day before, after all) wasn’t traumatized. Maybe the other guy didn’t mind having his face rammed into someone else’s crotch. I don’t know.

Update: It turns out all parties were okay with what happened, and generally expected it. I guess I was just surprised and didn’t remember it from last year.

But I definitely had issues with it and left as soon as I felt comfortable, and was surrounded with people I trusted. I don’t think it triggered anything severe, but it definitely left me with some really uncomfortable feelings.

So, there was that.

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I also had the chance to build on a relationship with a lovely friend that I didn’t realize also has PTSD from sexual trauma. She opened up to me and shared her story in a way that showed me what a strong, beautiful person she is. Though she still has episodes, she has healed beautifully, and she’s such a wonderful inspiration to me. I think once I actually start dealing with mine, rather than suppressing it (no, I haven’t sought therapy yet), I’ll be able to deal with my episodes in a similar way.

And yes, I know it will get worse before it gets better.

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Quick update: for the most part, I don’t notice my PTSD on a violent scale the way I did last summer. I become uneasy around most men, and still have very little desire for them on a sexual basis, with very limited exceptions. I still have trust issues related to men, but it’s getting better. Because my work has recently ramped up to the level of ridiculous, I don’t have a lot of time to really think about much besides working, sleeping, creative pursuits, and my girlfriend.

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But back to the Steubenville issue. Yes, I know everyone’s putting their two cents in. As I said, I’ve been reading some blogs and articles about it. I’ve avoided comments, because I really don’t want to cry about how hateful people can be on either side of the issue, but I’m glad that the issue of the “rape culture” is being addressed so openly, and not just by my liberal, feminist, queer-and-queer-ally friends.

For now, I’m only going to link one blog, because I like the way it addressed several issues. It talks about how this isn’t just an issue of one person doing something wrong: it’s about how there were several people involved, from the people who actually perpetrated physical violence on the girl to those who watched and did nothing, and even to those who perpetrated victim blaming after the event was over. It talks about the efficacy of the actions taken against the boys (because they were boys, you know) in the manner of punishment. It asks why these boys were raised in such a manner that this was even thought to be even remotely acceptable. It also talks about potential fixes for the problem that I find to be potential bandages to start the healing problem that surrounds this issue.

But mostly, there was one phrase that really caught my eye: “It is ironic and sad that the person who is going to do a life sentence is her.”

And it’s so true. Regardless of the fact that I probably don’t have to say this to most of the people who read this, I’m going to anyway. Whether you think he or she is consenting or not, take that extra moment. Stop what you are doing. Sit a few inches away from the person. Ask them a question. “Do you want this?” It’s that easy. Oh, and don’t forget that the person should also be able to give consent. (i.e. not drunk or drugged or half-asleep or grieving out of their mind) And also of legal age. Because, really, it comes down to the fact that the chance will come back later. And if it doesn’t with *this* person, it will with another. You’re not going to die from your libido exploding, and s/he doesn’t owe you anything for getting you riled up. They weren’t asking for it. Hell, if you ask, they might even say yes.

But if you don’t, you never know. Maybe they wanted it, just not from you, or just not in that way.

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Lastly, I’m going to end on a very positive note. I asked a boy for some “makey-outey” time this past weekend. He said no (for now? *shrug*), but he also expressed concern for the fact that I was drunk after I said I wasn’t going to get drunk and didn’t want to take advantage. Also, I haven’t wanted to have any sort of intimate contact with a male-identified person since last June, the last time I was raped. So, I see this as a step in the direction of healing. Regardless of whether or not we ever have makey-outey time or I’m ever with a man again, I see this as a step in the direction of healing. I also see this as a sign that there are good men out there who treat people decently and care, even when someone is almost completely a stranger.

Ok, maybe this is for real lastly… As of about two weeks ago, I’m completely out about being gay to my family, and MY GOD is it liberating. They don’t all like it, or “agree with my lifestyle,” but I never really asked them to, and besides, I don’t agree with all of their “lifestyles” either. But it’s good to know that they love me regardless, just as the family-of-my-heart has always loved me. Honestly, I could cry with the joy of it.

Here’s a happy picture of a baby goat: