I’m going to be crying while I type this… This… this is the rape.

Feelings and physical manifestations: Constricted throat, intense pressures in my head, especially behind my eyes. Tears. Shaky hands, and f’ing determination to tell my story!!

 

My sister had decided she also wanted to move down with dad and brothers. She showed up, and space wasn’t going her way. I was with my brother at first, but felt awkward. I moved into a closet under the stairs… Harry Potter was 2nd!! She and my younger brother figured out how to share the large bedroom, my dad in the spare. I think it was about a month or so and she  found a boyfriend in Urbana Ill.

I had gotten my drivers license the end of 10th grade, age 16. I drove to Champaign to see Star Wars during this time, it was late summer 1977. Not long after, maybe just before Sept., My sister invited me once to go have pizza with her and boyfriend Mohammed. I enjoyed myself. At their apartment I was given a beer and we listened to music with Mohammed’s, roommate and my sister.

The next visit I discovered the roommate had pot. I hadn’t had any for a very long time and really wanted some. They obliged and I also had some beer. Unfortunately I had some bad food and too many beers with the pot. The mix caused me to throw up. My sister was nice about it though.

Then the next and last time I visited, I was not as welcome, and I really wanted pot again. Really badly. I accepted an invite to some party the roommate was going. When we got to the apartment a small weak joint was passed around, and a few beers were available. It was a party for the Arab men to relax and some seemed to want sex with each other. I was very uncomfortable, but had never judged others. Two guys made out on the far side of the room, in front of everyone. I pretended not to notice.

Late and by now, and I had lost track of the roommate, it was too late to get back to join my sister and Mohammed, I felt it necessary to ask to stay the night. The two guys didn’t see a problem with that. I had been 16 for not quite two months?

TRIGGER WARNING:
It was sometime in the deep night that I became aware of a presence. Tense, afraid, confused and in shock, I felt a touch, and the person made an effort to lay on top of me. It was what I had seen the two men do when they were making out. I was desperate, and imagined my voice seemed panicked, but I tried to talk, awkwardly I ask “what do you want”? The response was to join him in his bed. Now I really panicked, I resisted not moving and sat silent for a bit; then asking if I could just stay and sleep, leave me alone. “No”, he insisted, I had slept over, it was right I go with him.

I was that skinny weakling, and this man began to pull my arm, and proceeded to pull me to his room. He then insisted I undress and lay on my belly. He made his way on top of me, and worked at penetrating me, while I worked at pushing my buttocks together when I could. He had smeared something on his penis, and he slide in me a short way, then I would I try harder to tighten my buttocks. I don’t know how long this went on, I was in shock, stunned at my predicament, and thinking of what I could do to leave/escape?

I got up after he left for a bathroom trip, and I went myself, and tried to stay in there. He knocked and kept insisting I return. Soon he was replaced by the second man. He said he wanted me now, it was his turn. Trapped, naked, in shock having been raped, I didn’t know what to do? I didn’t know what all this meant. I gave up after much knocking, fearing it could provoke something, and went with the other man.

He wanted oral sex, and I didn’t know what to do, panic had me forget that one other time? He put my hand on him and showed me how he wanted to be rubbed, then pushed my head down and told me to try putting my mouth on it. I don’t have much more memory of this , that was about when I went blank. I thought writing would bring the memory back, and it does to some degree, but then that blank spot has remained blank. It’s said that in survival mode, we dissociate and forget the trauma.

I’m not sure If I slept, I’m not sure when they left. When I got up from that second room, I found my clothes, dressed and searched for money to get home. I thought I might find a taxi, or bus? I eventually made it home, but can’t recall how. I ignored what happened and tried to do whatever else there was to do. I don’t recall having to explain where I was, and I didn’t bring up the topic. I suppressed it, though acted out badly, most of the next 9+ months of my 16th year on earth.

Continues later…

 

The story of my childhood continues:

It turned out I would be evaluated for about 2 months. During which I was very lonely, and I tried to be friendly with other kids.  We all had classes, free time and cafeteria time. Then we had some times to meet with the therapist, group or relaxation. I had a roommate that masturbated loudly in the night. He was a bit older than I, possibly 3 years older?

The therapist or psychiatrist would ask a lot of questions and then tell me I would receive medicine. I didn’t care, maybe it would get me high? It didn’t, but the doc. kept asking me if I felt anything, and I always said no. He kept upping the dosage.

Well, I don’t recall what it was called, but it had something like “pro…” as a prefix and the 2nd drug seemed to have “co…” as a prefix and “…gentine” as a suffix? I had a very severe reaction to the first drug, and the 2nd was supposed to ameliorate the first’s effects. I ended up with muscle paralysis and other side effects.

I lost control of my muscles, and my feet would splay out, I walked on my ankles. I had no leg, body or arm strength. My neck and eyes were weak too. I had a very hard time with bowel movements. The worst effects stayed with me for about 2 weeks and gradually reduced over the next 3 months. During the end of that two weeks paralysis, my mom took me on an outing. She told me my dad had an interest in coming up to get me and asked whether I would live with him. It was presented that I had no choice, it would be what happens. The outing was to someone’s house around Lake Minnetonka. I laid on a lounger the whole time, I don’t recall eating, and probably only drank some water.

Dad Begins:

I think it was about a week and I was picked up by my dad. He laid me out on blankets in the back of his station wagon for the long drive from central Minnesota to central Illinois. He stopped somewhere and I couldn’t get up. I asked to stay in the car because I was drenched in sweat and felt awful. To this day he explains that drive like I was afraid to meet those people, that’s why I asked to stay in the car (No). Is it that he wanted to hide my side effects and appearance from that bad drug? I don’t know? I was being taken to another school, in a small town, where I knew nobody. It’s what people call a fresh start yippy skippy.

I liked his townhouse, and I had my own room. I had to start school though, and I still had some residual from the drug side effects. I had a very hard time with bowel movements. I went to regular classes for a week and asked to speak to the counselor. I broke down and cried. I told them I had been through a tough time, moved from my mom’s in Minnesota to my dad’s there. They chose to let me spend most of my classes in a Special Needs class, and only Biology with the regular population.

The Special Class was stupid. We learned nothing. It was a babysitting operation for excluded kids in that school. I thought of myself as a loser, worthless and nobody, and it seemed fitting to isolate me. I stayed in that class for a few months, eventually asking to get back in the regular population.

During all this, my dad would have dates with a nice lady. She would stop by or we would go to her house on rare occasions. Eventually I met her son, a nice kid about my age. Also during this timeframe my brother moved down. So, now my tormentor brother was with me again. He had always been a source of severe trouble for me, teasing and fighting me for tv time. I wanted to watch comedies, movies or some shows, and he wanted to watch sports, I hated sports because of him; that and I had no physique for it. Having a bit of an aptitude for it didn’t compensate for weakness of muscles.

By 7th grade I hated sports on tv I never wanted to watch again. However, my brother insisted he had the choice by permission of our mom, and would argue until I got furious. He would just walk up and change the channel, not asking, but telling me it was his turn and my shows were stupid. Tv was about all I had left for control, and him usurping me caused me to get very angry. It was always him getting what he wanted for his sports and I’m the disappointment. So, here he was again (side note: as adults, he claims I wrote him to join me? My memory of that fails). Soon, he was also being a good friend with this boy, my dad’s girlfriend’s son. They became better friends than I, I was timid, and so it goes. No more Pizza shop, nor bike rides, or boomerang throwing.

During school, my brother again got into sports at school, and I isolated by finding a job as a dishwasher/pizza cook-helper at a local restaurant. I was good at that job and kept at it for many months. I eventually earned enough to buy a bike and stereo. I wanted some fun. I also had a few hundred in the bank.

My dad found out I had that savings! He asked to borrow it to pay some emergency? I didn’t know any detail, but he seemed desperate, and I felt sorry for him, so I gave him all the money. I even returned my stereo to give him that extra money. It was over $500, maybe closer to $600? I think I recall it was a loan, but I never got a hint of it back, nor any remorse for him taking it.

Late during this time, my dad soon left his long-time girlfriend. This is also the timeframe I had a horrible nightmare, and my rape occurred.

The nightmare was this: One late morning I awoke to the sight of creepy hands, having long freaky fingers, and then the appearance of long, stretchy horrid arms that crept up from the footboard of my bed. They went up a few feet then started to arch and stretch toward me. I was terrified, panicked, it was a vision, in semi-darkness. It seemed I was awake with this happening. To this day it seemed to me that the vivid action of those horrid hands and arms were seen in real time?

I got up screaming, and ran to the hall which adjoined the 3 rooms of the upstairs. I ended up knocking on the door I thought my dad was in? Noise was coming from the room, and later I realized it was my dad having sex with his girlfriend. It was a horrid experience to try to explain, while they were both terse with me for interrupting their sex. I really didn’t know at the time. It was later that I put the event together.

The story will continue…

 

The Pain

Hello, write a comment if that works for you? CPTSD takes a lot out of me. I have so much work to do, and while I do it, I have to manage my emotional state, my hopes and the requirements to keep going. Today, this day is not easy, and I want to document it, and wish others would convey a small token of understanding, that loneliness is very complicated.

I’m going to need some self care, and I’ll start that after I write this. I don’t really matter in the scheme of the universe, so whether I be or not be seems like self pity and drama, quintessential victimhood. There are those who know this isn’t pigeon holed, that depression manifests with the other parts playing in mood and emotional management.

I have to go, and if I feel better, that would be great.

 

My Story continued:

7th-8th grade, 8th school?:

Those two grades, in my mind, I label as living hell. There is some good, and I’ll visit that, but, besides earliest neglect, deeper trauma begins. I am bullied horribly. Told I’m a faggot in the shower-room for gym class, and elsewhere. That is a deep part of what’s been lifelong trauma. It reflected back to me, the rejection I saw all around me. It was targeted hate and derision and a peak of embarrassment.

The lifelong traumatic voice in my head, telling me how my body is worthless, I’m not a sexual being, I’m weak, a scapegoat for privileged bullies. It’s kept me wary, anxious and isolated. I have experienced rage at perceived slight, real or misinterpreted/imagined, manipulation, verbal attack, derision, etc…. Exclusion is very painful, and I’ve not managed to form self reliant self-worth to manage feeling left out. I’m working on it.

I was also physically bullied and hit, pushed, and tripped, punched and excluded (picked last). Each episode fixated others that I’m a faggot. They not only meant I was marginalized, but to know that I’m worthless and useless, The hardest part, is that it’s stuck up to the present! That voice hasn’t changed much all these decades. This is a severe degradation of my life. Causing me to refuse to do things that potentially expose me to enjoyment, an excuse not to date or seek intimacy, nor fun things like swimming, or whatever I feared/fear would expose me to embarrassment. A lifetime of fear, hiding and self derision.

A lifetime!

Now I have to mention being molested. In 7th, I was molested by a 9th grade acquaintence. I had tried to befriend him after I discovered pot. He had some and shared. At some point I was sitting in bed, and he wanted to lay down, he made his move and soon ejaculated on my back. I think there were 3 times this kind of thing occurred and some other various. But, as I grew older, I noted others labeled things like that as experimental, not molestation? I didn’t recognize it is molestation until a short term group, sharing with other male survivors, and a lot of research.  I had no experiences with sex of any kind prior to what that boy was doing to me. It didn’t mean anything particular, except confusion? Why wasn’t I good enough, what was this supposed to mean? Not until I woke to my rape trauma the summer of 2016, after 39 years, did the significance of this molestation become a concern.

I’ve not processed any of the sexual trauma yet, and this is Spring 2018, it takes a lot of work to get to that point. That molestation, and later my rape sexualized me with men. The experience of fellatio was first experienced during that molestation, and then (unconfirmed memory) during my rape. I don’t recall it being done to me, I tried doing it to him. I didn’t know what the experiences did to me? We grew apart after those few times. I will note, I had some experiences with girls during my childhood/youth. I kissed a girl in 3rd grade, and I had two make out sessions when I was 14 or 15.

During that 7th grade timeframe, I was introduced to the organizagtion Big Brothers. An example of a loving couple that I only knew from my Grand Parents and an Aunt and Uncle all of whom I rarely saw. I rarely saw extended relatives. Grandma and Grandpa’s from mom or dad were special visits. That older aunt and uncle we visited the most, and very rarely my mom’s youngest sister, husband and 3 kids up in Grand Marais, Mn.

His marriage exampled the only experience of a couple behaving as one together. they made me very welcome, and they tried to expose me to culture, fishing, boating and cabin life. I learned to mow grass, garden, some carpentry and was exposed to mechanics and engineering. They liked orchestra music, movies and museums too, and we had quite a few dinners together. He liked to take me to the local A&W or Arthur Treachers restaurants. I loved them and those times.

I repeated 8th grade at a 9th school. I expanded my pot smoking and tried acid for the first time. I did fairly well there, but hid my body exposure as much as possible. I had to shower with others, but somehow at this school being name-called only happened a couple times. I don’t recall physical bullying at that school either. I skipped some school though. This was the year that I had to call my Big Brother and tell him I now had a dad (my 3rd) and we couldn’t be together anymore. I was devistated. He was the first and last stabilizing presence in my life.

9th grade was another school so I’ll say my 10th. This was again a very traumatic school. I tried to smoke pot often, I skipped school and got angry a lot. I did some bad things too. I stole money from my mom, and vandalized a bit. School was intolerable. One event at gym was the worst. We were playing flag football and I ran patterns as a receiver. I kept getting open and mentioned it to the quarterback. However, for some reason that pissed him off and out of the blue, a no warning punch to my jaw, an uppercut knocked me on my ass. Stunned I just listened to him retort I had it coming for being an idiot!

I became very withdrawn, and I had been very isolated already. Only acquaintences. By March or so I had skipped maybe 35 days. One day some school official stopped by the house and I hid while he searched the house. He didn’t find me.

That weekend I had an argument with my brother, he and my sister on the couch. My mom in her bedroom. I was so mad I wanted to be dramatic and make an assertion of my anger; a desire that I be noticed for how much pain and rage I had. They sure took notice. The dull steak knife I grabbed for the effect of drama, and threw on the floor at my brothers feet stirred all against me. It wasn’t a knife throw, just a hard plop at his feet, flat. My sister got up in my face and went to tell our mom. I retreated to my bedroom.

I was probably told to go to my room. I realized I was in trouble, and since it gave my mom power to make new rules, because of their grave reaction to my drama, I tried to be good. I went to school that Monday. The last time I would live with my mom as a kid/teen. I was 14 in early 1976, so I must have been 14 at that time, I turned 15 later that year.

That Monday in school I was called to the school office. I was told to go into the inner office, where I was met by my mom and two men. Apparently I was such a threat that two large men were needed to assure the safety of all present. I was a docile, fearful, a weak boy, and terrified of what they were about to do to me? I was taken to a place where kids/teens awaited there next destination. I was told I would be waiting for a place for drug treatment.

In about 3 weeks I was taken to a treatment wing in St. Paul, Mn. I spent about 4 weeks there. I lied about how much I used and focused on how my life was lonely. It was, but I certainly smoked a lot of pot for a young teen. At least I think I did? When the treatment was done, I was told I would go back to the same place that I waited for treatment. I was told I would end up going to some place that did evaluations. Eventually learning it was emotional and mental evaluation.

I need to stop, so if you’ve read all this, you’re getting a picture of me. I’ve written a lot, so, there’s more.
Thank you.

Preparing for Trauma-Informed Healing, EMDR therapy and my story.

Where does one begin? Researching revealed to me, there are conflicts about the efficacy of EMDR. Where does that leave a survivor of childhood sexual trauma? The pro is that EMDR lessens, or helps the Frontal Cortex process what’s been hidden in the Amygdala region. The con is that EMDR inhibits some more than it helps. I’m a father, actually quite into the other side of middle age, and I woke to my full onset cptsd from being raped age 16, the summer of 2016. That was 39 years after the fact. I need help, and my research weighs toward trying EMDR. I’ll eventually discuss it further, I have a story to tell first. Preparing for EMDR is best done by writing one’s narrative. I’ve got a lot to share.
The awakening manifested from being a prolific reader of blogs and news. There was so much in recent years about Jacob Wetterling. They had a lead, were following it and when I finally read something that sparked my woken state, his murderer was convicted! At the time, I hadn’t seen the correlation, other than, there it was, ongoing news of childhood molestation! A trigger!
I awaken:
One day, I read a blog post from a father. He recounted how eventually his instincts as a father led him to act upon suspicion his daughter was being sexually abused. He and his wife were separated or divorced, but his awareness, his sensitivity, his love and compassion to act upon his daughter’s trauma cues; that affected me viscerally. I had not had that, a protector, though living with one or the other of my divorced parents, neither noticed how distraught I was. How I changed. I guess, I didn’t change enough?! My story might help me figure myself out as well as prepare for EMDR and other therapies.
The past is what it is, my history is more than half played out. I have been married longer than before I married and I have one grown, and one 13 year old child, by the same partner. When I woke, with visceral emotion to my rape, it was 39 years after the fact, it hit me with a mind storm, wracking emotional upheaval, and dread. Part of my first word to describe it were “the two perpetrators were foreign students, and long since gone”. I didn’t know their names. Most of that is now processed, what’s not processed are the things introduced to me about healing. Those include Dissociation, compartmentalization, physical memory, sensorimotor therapy, parts of self or stored memory, survival mode, etc…. I’m editing this post from a previous post, and since that time, I have learned a great deal more about those topics.

EMDR:
Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing therapy, is best explained by those in the field. Read this link: http://www.emdr.com/
What I’ve begun to do, after reading what to do to prepare, is start writing. This is about having a level playing field in my thoughts, to process deep emotional distractions and impediments. I’ve decided to work on it in public. This will be the third place I’m doing this. I think it can trigger some survivors and sensitive people. I also think it might seem an invitation to those who perceive a weakness in someone, to behave oddly. That will be discerned and the person will be ignored, thoroughly!
This beginning is the prehistory of my story. It’s parts of my story that relate how I perceive myself growing up. It’s just facts, I’m not working on emotions with this, that is done with EMDR. This is a story is as early as I can recall, to just before I recount ages 12–13. I stop before the real trauma enters my life. I will post Part II when I’m ready.
Thank you.
Part I:

Getting started I’ll need to be specific to recall the memories I have about parts of me. I want to list all the possibly difficult memories I can recall

  • Staring into a large mirror, while standing on a couch. I was alone, I looked at myself and the reflections of the room behind me. I was 3. This is 1964.
  • Another age 3 memory, is laying in bed for a nap at my grand parents. The headboard had a lamp with a pull chain. I would make it sway, and sometimes pull it on and off. I was careful with it, I didn’t want to hurt it.
  • My earliest Spanking memory is with a belt, age 4–5 yrs old, 1965–66.
  • I would often go off on my own for a walk through a bog near my house. I might also stay in the basement looking around, or hang out in the back yard. I had two siblings, but my memories are few about playing with them.
  • Those same years, I recall seeing my dad hit my mom in the kitchen. It appeared he was beating her on the back? I was about 5 yrs old and that means about 1966-67.
  • We moved to Mpls., Mn, and may have moved twice before that(?). I recall being afraid after seeing 2 women inside a smashed car. They hit, or were hit by a garbage truck. There was blood all over them, and I’m pretty sure I saw bone. I was walking by, probably from school. I happened to be there, and looked into the car. I was probably 6. At least 3 schools by now.
  • What I recall at about age 7–8 is a very bad fever for about 2 weeks. I stayed home and took care of myself. I made soup or a sandwich. I took aspirin. I watched some t.v. and laid on the couch or bed.
  • Not long after that, I had a bad reaction to something and my legs locked up one morning. A neighbor lady looked after me that day.
  • During this same time-frame, and this is a memory and reflection of what and why I did this, I tried to do things that made me a good boy? I stayed up and cleaned after my 2 siblings went to bed. My mom went out (a lot), apparently to play piano for pay? I organized a large end table that had two large drawers. I then organized the piano bench sheet music and I wiped the bathroom sink. this would still be around age 7. Probably 5 schools thus far.
  • There is a nightmare that started around this time too. The nightmare recurred at least a decade. I would be walking on the sidewalk away from the house to the street sidewalk. A hole would suddenly open up and I would fall in. It was just narrow enough in diameter that I could put my arms out to stop my fall. But, unseen hands started grabbing my ankles and pulling me down. I would awake before being dragged down, but never saw myself taken out of that hole.
  • 3rd grade, the 6th school, has quite a few memories. The first is probably where my dad showed up and I didn’t get to see him, he talked to mom outside. I watched through the window! I hadn’t seen him for about 3 years. I really didn’t know why he was gone?
  • Note: I did get to watch the Moon launch, and later the Moon Walk video from the summer of ’69.
  • Soon after my dad’s visit, my mom was gone for about a week in the hospital and my grandma took care of us. It was confusion, because at the time we didn’t know why she went, nor that it was certain she was coming back. I see now, that neglect was a pattern, and the idea of care giver in my family was the presence of an adult, being fed, clothed and housed.
  • During this time I made a few friends. It seemed there was a small amount of positive this year. However, I also have 2 bad memories.                                                 1) I wasn’t allowed to get up from class to use the bathroom and peed myself. I     walked home, or to the babysitter, I don’t recall? I know I was very embarrassed.
    2) I think this used to be a stronger memory, but has faded. I was molested, part of a small group that participated with some guy. I think he did things to himself, but we were in various stages of nakedness? I have no clear memory of any of this. It’s been a vague memory now, for many decades.
  • 4–6th grades, is the longest stay at one school, it’s the 7th school. During this time I became isolationist. I did make a few friends, and had a fairly easy going pattern of doing things, but was alone more than not. I played some sports and seemed to enjoy it. I tried to do well in school. I recall how I needed reassurance from the teachers that I was doing things right. I also recall that I tried to explain I was doing good things. A reflection about this extended stay in one school, is why don’t I recall names of more than two classmates? Why don’t I recall any teacher? In me, the reflection leads to an idea that I didn’t believe in permanence. Things are always transitory, don’t get too close.
  • 7th-8th grade, 8th school(?), are two years I label a living hell.
    To be continued –

I prefer the Progressive agenda in politics. The cons have had their way for decades. It’s time to fix that problem.

When was the last time you dreamed of state houses being run by Progressives?

When was the last time you read about who and what has been taking over your state houses, your local Chambers of Commerce, and your local elected leadership at all levels? We know from Bill Moyers, that he’s worried about the “Money Men”.

I’ll list three major players. They’re at work every opportunity to shape your life.  It’s in their interest to foment the neocon, less government, lower taxes on job creators, Global Warming denier, regressive led, Oligarch ruled and lowering lifestyles associations! Think Serfdom.

1) The first on the list is ALEC

By now, you’re aware of ALEC and its workings to shape legislation. Giving GOP leaders what they want in a bill, to pass into committee. It’s easy peasy.

2) The next on the list is ALEC’s second coming, Read 2016 white paper ACCE, and see ACCE here.

Hopefully you’re aware of ACCE. They’ve been around for over 2 years, mimicking ALEC to shape your local governance. They support the small municipal challengers who foment their ideology. ALEC and ACCE facebook presence is telling: They share as ALEC. ACCE members, and one must join to get into their workings, and have been promised resources to limit government, and promote free market principles, such as the end  or severe limits of the EPA, the FED, the FCC, etc…. The same theme seen in all three organizations.

3)  The last is the State Policy Network

It will be most informative to you, when you visit the SPN linked Think Tank in your state.

To further your understanding, that visit is intended for you to do a lot of reading. It’s how you’ll see what local figureheads have been up to. Check their facebook pages too. It’s amazing how much we can learn from these organizations facebook pages.


One of the counters to these 3 is Six: The State Innovation Exchange. It’s facebook presence is here.

They’ve been around for a couple years too. Like ACCE, unlike ALEC, they’re fomenting Progressive legislation. They’re looking for ways to help state houses repopulate with Progressive leadership. What I haven’t found at SiX, is urgency. Check it out and tell me what you think?

What ?!


What ?!
There he is listening
to you, to sounds, thoughts
Sometimes a river of thought
flows down deep ravines
carving intense, lush valleys
Versus, dams, holding back
an eventual overflow
perhaps deluge of what
reflects ages of images
Seen in a flow, rushing waters,
filled with mature bent grass
sometimes images, reflection memories
pics as clear, as looking into a mirror
though frosted edged, altered, aged
Joined together, fueled and urgent, rushing
barely a moment passes for what
revelation, affirmation of unfolding truth
mingles inward where energies behold
No more fear, dear freed dependence
to hold what is now related, Hope
Love

Rape culture is offensive to me, This may trigger survivors, please be concerned for yourself.

Please, deep breathing may be necessary to finish this blog post.


I’ve been reading a lot these past couple of months, and recent weeks have been very active. I’ve been seeing sexual assault through new lenses, and working for myself, and now, toward healing and helping others. I didn’t know much about pushback until last night. I ran across FACE in my local (this past Sunday) newspaper. The sections included the actions concerning a Gustavus Adolphus campus rape allegation, and results (that link I found), this is the newspaper link: StarTribune Womyn’s Awareness Center pushback to campus Title IX actions.

It seems the early work in March of this year by Gustavus Adolphus students has led to a Sept 2nd, 2016 posting for a full-time Title IX staffer and I found it’s been going on around campus’ for some time Title IX jobs on campus’ around the U.S.

It’s “FACE” that caught my attention. Because, Sherry Warner-Seefeld and her FACEBOOK feed SAVE bothers me as much as FACE does. FACE was started by Sherry and two other mothers. She’s a mother whose son was accused of an on campus rape. The actions of FACE and their facebook feed SAVE are exacerbated by another group calling themselves COTWA or the Community of the Wrongly Accused

To those 3 entities, add:  a model for action at Help SAVE our Sons; suing the schools and or victims, maybe law enforcement, etc… but sue them they do. Sherry is one of three founders, and they got the aid of Judith Grossman as another founder. Sherry thinks Campus investigation methods are witch hunts, and denying due process, creating more victims . What? A big part of the problem she foments, is the [he said vs she said] paradigm. It foments denying the reports victims! In the case of Sherry’s son, they actually achieved an arrest warrant for her son’s victim! Wow?! So, in my opinion, she’s now a double+ victim, and her son is enabled to make the excuse: alcohol is a defense to rape!! That’s horrific! Their tactic, FACE, SAVE, COTWA and others, is to build doubt of the victim’s word,  repeated denial and fomenting doubt, until it becomes true to them (Sherry and her son), but horribly, it may then become true for others and lunatics. There are plenty of lunatics.

What lens do you dear reader, think the public, Title IX coordinators, administrators and others who work on these allegations could look through to make progress ensuring safety, integrity, avoid revictimization of the rape victim, and foment support for rape victims rights? We know the [he said vs she said] paradigm is flawed, and the first step is to draw the line where rape victim rights vs accused are in line with a just outcome. Which means the rapist must have a police report filed against them, and why wouldn’t a judge be involved. The police have obstructed justice for the victim too often, and even if I grudgingly respect where Sherry, Judith and others are coming from as mother’s standing up for their children, It’s reprehensible to disregard the rape culture they’re not addressing. The problem of campus rape and many other forms of sexual violence is epidemic. Their push back puts up an impediment for rape victim justice; It misleads and in my opinion is unworthy of the attention they’re getting.

I think the first step is to listen to the rape victim, acknowledge they’re heard, and listen some more. I think there’s a role for advocates here that is seemingly wholly ignored, especially by Administrations that are forced to follow overwhelming privacy restrictions. I’ve noticed that Administrations are looking through the lens of the Clery Act and like the Gustavus Adolphus incident, diminished the urgent need for on campus awareness almost 2 months. That does not seem to fit the rules of disclosure to the campus community in my book. It’s part of the culture and what these new Title IX coordinators must address going forward.

Gawd, I hope I don’t trigger anyone, but angst or becoming aware and called to action is a good thing. There are too many lives denied their hope of healing. The push back, is going to have push back!

 

Please comment, this is important.

Thank you.

To Be

4th-ave-s-and-franklin-at-35-in-front-of-elec-fetus

 


To Be:
walking, wistful, wondering why
A far away look, wondering– why
stop to see, to see you — around me
you’re there, walking, sitting, talking
walk on by
walk on by
given my privacy, alone to be
we’re a society of spaces
of boundaries, alone to be
we’re a society of spaces
and we’ll crowd each other
to be in our society of spaces
alone
to
be

The Song

To the reader. I don’t write music, I don’t know anything about it. I do like poetry and maybe this is a song, maybe not. To me it is a poem, and lyrical to me.


When I take the time
to get into my mind
it feels so lonely
as one slips down slowly

one among whom have to be phony
one among whom need no glory
one among whose still and sorry

There’s always wonder, of the fit
where love takes a respite
round and round, love to be
to be found, special to me

one runs long and tells a story
one runs long and feels a ceremony
one runs strong and knows modesty

Some say, all along, we’re here and fond
stretch out, your hand we take, you belong
so, you see, it’s me unable to be free
it’s the way, the mind is set to believe