By Dr. Rosa Sierra
"This is no confession. I’ve got no slate to clear."
TW/CW: Frank discussion of child sexual abuse survival
I’ve seen your repulsion and it looks real good on you
Accompaniment to Spotify playlist “Do you fake it for me like I do you 5/29/21”
True Detective, Season 1, Episode 2
Jan: Such holy bullshit from you! It’s a woman’s body, ain’t it? A woman’s choice.
Marty: Well, she don’t look like a woman to me. At that age, she is not equipped to make those kinda choices. But I guess you don’t give a shit what kinda damage she’s doing to herself as long as you’re making your money.
Jan: Girls walk this earth all the time screwin’ for free. Why is it you add business to the mix and boys like you can’t stand the thought.? I’ll tell you! It’s cuz suddenly you don’t own it the way you thought you did.
I can’t remember ever being a virgin. What I do know—in a deep, bodily sense—is the aching shame and self-loathing that goes with being used as a sex toy for pedophiles from an unforgivably early age.
Not that I believe anymore that I have a goddamn thing to be ashamed of. Not cognitively, anyway. But the transmission of culpability and shame from predator to prey, to enable the rapist to keep indulging their darkest desires with a clear conscience…oh, that’s real. It’s pervasive and affects every aspect of who you are, how you experience yourself and your body, and how you learn to relate to the world. It poisons how you perceive your value as a person and how you learn to spend the social currency you carry as an unwillingly sexual being. The very things you’re secretly taught to do to get your need for (what you think is) love, bring hellfire from the righteous when brought to light. Not because they didn’t know but because they did.
This is no confession. I’ve got no slate to clear. I’ve got a question, though: why is it we pretend this method of control isn’t a thing until we see it on TV? Then we tweet our outrage and slap our masks back on to dull the festering stench that singes our nostrils.
Josh Duggar case - The Washington Post
One of my earliest memories is of my white-haired great-grandmother sitting me down on her lap and, with watery eyes and halting speech, warning me that someday boys and men would want to touch me in ways I wouldn’t like. It might be soon, it might not, but it would happen and I should be ready. I still feel the catch in my throat that kept me from telling her. Bless her heart. She tried.
Hole, Best Sunday Dress (Unplugged, 1996)
I’ve cancelled my subscription to the twisted cultural mindset that justified the willful ignorance of my repeated child rape and systematic breaking of my mind. I suppose, when I started tearing loose from that grip was when I started to use my growing agency, as a pre-teen and adolescent, to take a bit of control of my life and use my body for my own benefit instead of everyone else’s. The choices made for me throughout my short life mirrored themselves in my actions; and out came the bibles and self-righteous condemnation. Lord knows no one wanted to face what was done on their watch, not just to me but throughout the generations. Nor was anyone interested in admitting why this type of perverse indoctrination had always been practiced as a necessary evil throughout our family and community. Some things you just don’t talk about. It’s part of gracefully bearing a woman’s God-given burden.