All My Angels

All my angels whispered to me in the dawn of life, “It is time, child.”

And it was.

It was time to admit to myself what I already knew. It was time to admit that I had been taken advantage of by the man that was supposed to be my dad. It was obvious to me from how I held my body. As if a great challenge, it was a horror to look in the mirror. This was the burden I had carried for more than 20 years. The burden that I was scarred, bruised from head to toe, so very little to offer the big, wide world.

It was time for me to learn what the word “rape” actually meant. It meant the opposite of free. It meant that I was dirty. Or so they said. So they said.

But now I know the difference. “Rape” is a coined term to define an act of violence that people prefer to believe does not exist. But it does. It does and it has and it will. It will persist to exist because of the lack of outreach. Because it is something that is writhed in shame, wrapped in blame, and stuffed in quiet, tearful solace. This is what the word “rape” gave to me. An isolation so profound that I did not know the sound of my own voice, the sound of my own soul.

Do you want to know what I know? It is the very act of belief that keeps me standing on two feet. It is the very act of breathing that shows me in clear relief. I have done things to abolish the sin that I did not deserve. I have done things that would make your skin crawl. I am a daughter, but not one with a father. I have been used and taken out for slaughter. The biggest secret I have carried my whole life is that I didn’t want to be alive for one second of it. I didn’t want to know what this “alive” thing really meant. Every woman in my family has been taken advantage of by one man or another. Every single time I ask God why it had to happen to her, to me, to my mom, his reply is the same. “It didn’t have to happen, child, but it did, it does, and it will. The shame that burdens you now is not yours to fulfill.” He replies very gently, but it feels exceptionally cruel to know that I could live like this. Exceptional, loving, graceful but carrying a burden that was placed on me.

That is why it is time. That is why my healing isn’t just a journey, but a drag out war. A bloody battle taking place behind the closed door. Taking place behind placid eyes and broken promises.

I’ve always believed in fairytales. I’ve always believed the hero of the story was not the princess. This has changed for me. I think that no one gives the princess any credit for surviving the dragon in the first place. In the original Grimm tales, the little girls were always “raped” and I wonder why we pretend they weren’t. I wonder why we act as if man did not account for our self imposed solitude. I wonder why we act as if men are less aware of their actions than a wild bear. I wonder why we act as if the hero of the story is not the one who survived the terror of being taken advantage of and doing it with flowers in her hair. I wonder if we viewed women as human who would that harm? I wonder why it is easier to bury the body than show the scars. If man were to own the blame then women might be able to feel less shame. In this we are struggling as a societal norm. In this we struggle to find the balance between self respect and harm.

I’ve watched friends be beaten in front of me. I have been in fear of my life more times than I can count. I have had men pounce on me like an animal with a special pelt. They wanted to hang me on the mantle, they wanted my magic to melt. They wanted me to whimper, and cave. They wanted me approve of the way they behave.

This is what my father gave. He raped and pillaged and never forgave. He said I deserve all the pain that was gave. I understand now why my brother tried to kill himself. I understand now why my mother never received a grave. It is because of this shame.

Well it is time to release these things. The anchors that were attached to our feet before we ever learned how to crawl. This is why most women feel scared to step outside, can anyone really love you after all that has been stolen?

The short answer?

Yes.

People who are meant to stay will fight to stand with you. People who are meant to love you will do so without second thought. People who have been raped are also people who deserve love. I could argue they deserve it more than even they are aware of.

I wrote this to replace shame. I wrote this to shift the blame of rape not on the victim, but on the man. The man known as dad. In this way I will have changed my family forever. In this way I will have replaced my children’s lives and their children’s lives forever. I did this for me, because the weight of what happened was too heavy to carry. If I’m supposed to be happy, then I will be. And the only way to recognize that is to know that I’m worthy. In this, no one can take it from me. No one will have succeeded in taking my dignity.

I am clean. I am free.