Become ungovernable

After I was raped my freshman year of college, I tried to kill myself. Not right away. I knew my rapist. And I hadn’t been treated terribly well by men (mostly my father) for most of my life up to that point. Rape didn’t seem all that surprising. It seemed like just another thing that men did to women. Like telling them they were stupid and fat and ugly. Like throwing chairs at them. Like laughing when they accomplished something because it was shocking that a woman, that I, could do anything superlatively.

But despite that, I still felt the aftermath. It’s hard to describe how terrible it feels to be violated and used and physically restrained. We don’t have words in the English language to capture it because language is a tool that has historically been controlled by men. But that feeling was inescapable. And I felt myself unravelling. I eventually broke ties with my rapist. And I pushed that feeling down. I pushed all the feelings down. I moved on with my life.

And then I became depressed.

Reader, if you have ever suffered from depression, then you know that it’s a spectrum. There is the darkness. And then there is the blackest, deepest, abyss that is beyond sadness and despair, the absolute nothingness of the dark, and that is where I found myself one winter. I woke up crying every night. I just wanted it to stop. I wanted everything to stop.

I’m not going to linger here, Reader, but I failed, obviously, and I realized that while I wanted everything to stop, that didn’t mean that I wanted ME to stop. So I told my mother to get me a therapist, I refused to tell her why, and she did.

It was the best thing that has ever, ever happened to me.

I was 19 years old.

It took me months to tell my therapist about being raped because the first people I told didn’t believe me. They knew him. They told me that he couldn’t possibly have done anything like that and that I was lying and making a big deal out of nothing.

My therapist cried when I told her.

And then she asked me if I wanted to press charges. The thought stunned me. It had never occurred to me that I could. I told her I didn’t know. We talked about it, and she told me that if I did, that it was likely he would not be convicted. Rape victims tend to be poorly treated by police and courts. And it was not an experience she would recommend unless the outcome would be conviction. When I told her that I wouldn’t press charges, she told me that was a good decision.

And it was. But I know that he’s still out there. And I don’t know how many other women he has hurt or raped or abused.

I am 47 years old. And this event that happened 28 years ago has so severely impacted my life that I still talk about it in therapy. I still have behaviors and fears and reactions due to what happened on this single afternoon so many years ago.

And this week, as I watched my country elect Donald Trump for the second time, a man who has been accused of sexually assaulting women since the 70s, a man who bragged on tape about grabbing women “by the pussy,” a man whose mistreatment of women is shockingly well-documented, I have realized something important.

I am fucking DONE.

The first time was bad enough. Overturning Roe v. Wade was bad enough. Appointing Brett Kavanaugh to the Supreme Court was bad enough. Brock Turner being released after three months in jail was bad enough. I am sick to death of the justifications for transphobia being the safety of women. Clearly the safety of women is not a priority.

Because America doesn’t value women. Since the election, I have seen sexist bullshit posted in a number of online groups. Every single woman I know is despondent. Because we were just told that America prefers a rapist to a woman.

Fuck that.

I am taking this election personally because there is no way not to take it personally. America has failed to believe women, like me. America has elected a man who has enacted violence against women, like I have experienced. America insists on treating me like I am less than a man. America insists on telling me that body is nothing more than a vehicle for childbirth and men’s pleasure.

I will never, ever recognize the right of any government to control or legislate my body. My body is mine. This right is inalienable. I am, in equal measure, deserving of every single right granted to men in this country. I deserve equal pay. I deserve freedom. I deserve to live my life, on my terms, without being harassed. Without fear. Without fucking compromise.

I am done compromising.

I am done trying to convince people that I have equal worth to a man. Because let’s face it. I’m worth so, so much more.

Women all are. We have spent decades and centuries underpaid and overworked. We have negotiated, balanced, coordinated, shouldered, mothered, nurtured, gathered, planned, soothed, managed, strived, protested, marched, consoled, cleaned, cooked, scheduled, taught, earned, parented, caretaken, excelled, risen, succeeded. We have proven ourselves again and again, doing the vast majority of domestic labor while still working outside the home. While rising children. While earning paychecks.

And we’ve done it bleeding. We’ve done it in high heels. We’ve done it with and without makeup. We’ve done it crying. We’ve done it screaming. We’ve done it without equal rights and we’ve done it without credit and we’ve done it without recognition. We’ve done it battered. We’ve done it raped. We’ve done it bruised. We’ve done it alone.

If we can do all this, without equal rights, without equal power, imagine what we could do with them.

And this America, this country that thinks electing and appointing men who rape and assault women is okay, can go fuck itself.

I’m declaring war.

I am an equal citizen. My body is mine. I have the right to be free from harm and assault. I have the right to safety. I have the right to money that I’ve earned. I have the right to speak. I have the right to representation. I have the right to be represented by someone who hasn’t assaulted women. I have the right to equality. I have the right to pursue happiness.

I refuse to recognize the ability of anyone to take these rights away from me. I will become ungovernable. I will fight back. And I will wage uncompromising war against every sexist, racist, queerphobic, transphobic, ableistic decision, policy, comment, intrusion, and attack that I encounter.

This is my Declaration of Independence.

I am a woman.

I am an American.

And I will be fucking free.