I am Not a Victim. Part I. Picture story.
I am not a victim. This is my life. My body. My experience. But this is our story, not just mine. Victimization sets us apart. We are all connected.
Photo: Me and my new bike. Winter 2021. At home. Durham, NC.
Two incidents: Age 20-21, 1986-87
Have You ever been locked in a freezing cold phone booth? By a masked man?
I hope you were never locked into a room by a violent stranger.
Photo. Sample of Parisian conference room from google.
Imagine opening your eyes to find your quiet-getaway room at a fancy party has become a sadistic playground for a night guard? The room is far away from the party so no one can hear you. It is dark. And the wall behind you is covered in mirrors and the wall in front of you is covered in windows. Somewhere there are two doors. Are both locked?
Would a security guard on-duty dare to use his castle keys to lock a bi+ch into a room to teach her a lesson?
Photo. Public stairwell in a castle in Paris. Possibly the actual stairwell from my experience.
How could you possibly overpower a rageful, hideous, huge man determined to annihilate you first with the power of his position, then with a venomous tirade of hateful threats spit into your face and then with his force?
Would you dare consider his position as a person with a job and possibly a family? WHY?
Escape into the grand staircase! See Another Security Guard?! Would they come to your aid?
Photo: Fear. Nausea. Anger. Learning. Not understanding. It’s all part of the story. Life drawing, brief pose. Emily Cox, 1992.
Emotional Perspective. Make room for truth.
Questions about the position of the reader.
Are you in the story with me?
Do you feel sorry for me?
Or do you feel sorry that this happened to me?
Small distinctions carry a lot of impact.
The Pitfalls of Pity in Paradise.
Your concern is appreciated. But pity is for the pity-er.
Warning to the pity-er: Are you sure you want to do that to me? Look who’s wearing a mask now!
In my mind, pity carries a sense of “feeling sorry for someone.” To pity is a white, churchy-way to fix a situation.
Pity gives the pity-er a chance to set the story right. As in, “Come on now let’s not make a mountain out of a molehill.” Perhaps the desire to not-know, or the discomfort of now-knowing is too much. “Poor girl.”
That attitude puts the pity-er “on top” of the story looking down on the storyteller.
That attitude takes the power away from the person who was attacked.
When people pity people, it is as if to say “we are not all in this story together.” We are.
I am asking for an attitude change. One person at a time. Attitudes are not permanent. If we want systemic change, let’s consider ways that personal stories and personal connections matter.
Violence and sexual assault
In some ways, we all play a role in perpetuating and stopping violence in the world.
As members of a larger community of influence, it is possible to understand the position of the violator, the violated, the bystanders. That’s a big part of finding the solution.
We are not separate.
As long as disadvantaged, mistreated people are viewed as victims, a false wall of pity separates us.
This ends my first installment. Please comment to build community exchange.
Dear Reader, Do you believe we need a culture-shift forward toward greater empathy, equity, justice, and violence prevention? Do you have a personal picture story to share InConfidence? Your comments are appreciated.
#RejectPity #Sisterscene
#InConfidence #TakeAction #WordsMatter
About my safety: I believe that by releasing my personal stories, community healing expands. For me, mindful breathing and taking momentary pauses re-establishes my sense of security. Further, these self-care actions connect me to my creative, competent self and my safe surroundings.
__emily cox, aug 15, 2021
Who will listen to your story? The SisterScene community will!! Photo: Family picnic, Saladelia. #AuthenticLiving #SimplySupportive #SisterScene #InConfidence
