Tag Archives: a good woman

December 13, 2011 · 1:00 pm

The first time I do it

The first time I do it… It will be right. It will be smooth and well crafted. It will not take a toll on me that hangs. Tugging down my shoulders keeping my chin from pushing my eyes up to see the layers of building tops touch the sky.

The first time I do it… finally to a man. Finally, to feel equal and stand up to him, to talk back, to call him out. To be assertive. The first time I do it… it will be authentic.

The first time will be quickly forgotten as it will be the first day that I step into that skin. The skin that I have been crafting in my mind. This skin will suit me, it has come from my mind, representing my heart, what I think and feel and especially what I know.  The first time will befinally; and then, yes, then forgotten.

It simply becomes the way that I am. Every day. Not that one significant time that I acted the way that I would love for every woman to act. Every day, for every woman to feel free to act out against any one, especially men. To act out without fear of ridicule because we have the right. Just as one knows they are innocent.. I know that I am powerful. I have the right to be, feel and act equal.

I have the greatest desire to, for the first time… not cow-toe in inferiority, not be afraid of disapproval, not feel dizzy with the conflict between mind and behavior. I won’t care if I hurt his feelings nor will I be concerned with the interpretations of others of me: abrasive, harsh, bitchy, extreme, angry, bitter, cold, childish, pushy, touchy. I will be proud of my authentic assertion, and not ony the first time.

I know that finally, and for the first time, I finally will have found so much of me that I have been searching to know.

The part that woke me up from slumber inside of a relationship where the part of me that makes people laugh had vanished. The part that stands up for the women I know and love. The part of me that loves and trusts her womanhood. That part of me that has come out fiercely and courageously in the company of women.

Only was I able to stand up and confront the pick pocketer and the crafty thief on the bus when it was a woman and her son. Only was I able to take charge that time we were lost out on a mountain and the headlights went out.. when I was with my best friend a beautiful and successful woman. I know I have a Sergeant inside. I know she is there and she is GOOD and she has come around in the presence of women, but she has been trained so well to take her subordinate place in the presence of men.

After the first time my behavior catches up with what I know, I will for the first time stand up courageously without regard to gender. After the first time, I will not ignore the man’s hand quickly groping me on the street (again). I will not be reluctant, worrying about embarrassing him or the woman he is with. That poor old creep who sees me as the parts of my body that he has a desire to abuse will not be ignored by me. Nor will I again be quiet and polite to the man following me, inappropriate with his words about MY body. I will not tell him that “Today, I just want to be alone,” or “Yes, it’s because I have a boyfriend, sorry”.

The first time I do it I will finally be saying goodbye to the path of least resistance.

About these ads

2 Comments

Filed under Inspirational Messages, Power

Tagged as , , , , , , , , ,

December 15, 2010 · 11:31 am

The first time I realised it was actually rape

The first time I realised it was actually rape, was the day after it happened. I knew what it was, and it was rape. I didn’t want to think about it though, so I didn’t. Not until now, when I have to face him. It was easy to ignore what had happened, because we don’t live in the same town anymore. But I’m moving back there. Where he lives. And I’m terrified.

I knew it was rape, but I wouldn’t believe that it was. Not until I started reading all the columns and news stories during the 16 days of activism against women and child abuse. That when I knew it was rape, and I couldn’t deny it anymore.

Until now, I hadn’t thought about all those protests I participated in, as part of the 1-in-9 campaign. I had forgotten about it. I taped my mouth shut for 24 hours in solidarity with the 8 out of 9 rape survivors who, because of social pressure, never report their rape(s). I fought for the rights of rape survivors, I prayed for them, and voiced my anger at the denial of their justice. I cried with them and laughed with them. And now, I am one of them.

How ironic.

Three years later, and here I sit denying myself my own justice. Because I am too shit scared.

He was a friend of mine. Actually, he was my ex-boyfriend’s best friend. He is my closest friend’s ex-boyfriend. He is a serial womaniser, and treats women as the means to satiate his sexual desires. I once heard he had slept with over 70 women. I am now one of them. But how many others also said ‘no’?

We were friends – but only God knows why. I think I trust people too much. I tried to support him through his bad break-up with my close friend. But because I have breasts and vagina, he saw my support as sexual flattery. I told him then, months ago, it would never happen. It was too complicated, too many people will get hurt. “It will never happen,” I told him.

How naive.

He told me he wanted to do “naughty things” to me, but if I didn’t want it, he would “control” himself. He continued making sexual jokes and comments, even when I told him they made me uncomfortable.

So I avoided him. I would not go to see my friends in the town where he lives, because I scared I would see him. I told him again and again that it would never happen between us. He asked me why I wouldn’t visit. In jest, I told him it was because I didn’t trust him. He told me I could trust him, but not when he had been drinking, “haha”. I told him it would never happen between us. He said he understood. He said “you’re still my super Journo friend whom I respect whole heartedly (sic)”. I believed him.

How stupid. How absolutely incredibly fucking stupid.

He came to my town, I suggested we meet up for drinks for old time’s sake. I was lonely, vulnerable in a new town, and honestly just wanted a friend to hang out with at a bar.  He said I could trust him – and I believed him.

He came to my house, so that I could introduce him to my dogs. I love my dogs – they mean everything to me. I was black-out drunk. I don’t remember much.

I do remember he kissed me. I do remember he carried me to my bedroom. I do remember he undressed me.

And I do remember saying no. I do remember stopping him. I do remember telling him that too many people would get hurt if we did this. I remember telling him I cared too much about my friend – I love her dearly. I don’t remember what he said in response, and I don’t remember what I said then.

But I know he didn’t stop.

The next day my thighs and my vagina hurt – I lied on my couch all day thinking about what happened. I showered twice. I cried and hugged my dogs. I slept on the couch that night, because I didn’t want to go near my bed – the scene of the crime – and the thought made me feel nauseated.

I considered laying a charge at the police. I have written evidence that I told him, months prior to that night, that I did not want to have sex with him. But would they believe me? I was black-out drunk. He was at my house, where I live alone with my two dogs. I took him home the next day. He has a reputation for sleeping around. Would anyone believe that I said ‘no’? That I tried to stop him? That I physically covered my vagina with my hands and told him, in no uncertain terms, that I did not want to have sex with him?

No one knows about that night. We are the only people that know. If I laid a charge against him, my friend will know. She will be hurt by me, after I tried so hard to protect her, and I was there for her, and I listened to her cry. I don’t want to hurt her. Everyone will know about that night. They will make my life hell. They will say it was not rape. They will question why I only reported in now, months after the fact. They will question, question, question.

But now I am moving back to the town where he lives. It’s a small town, and we have the same friends.

What the fuck am I supposed to do? I feel like I am betraying the cause by not charging him with rape.

But God, I am so scared. What should I do?

12 Comments

Filed under abuse, Rape, Relationships

Tagged as , , , , , , , , , , ,

December 3, 2010 · 9:34 am

The First Time I Realised I Needed a New Job

I was 23, just finished my honours degree and was doing my master in Labour law part-time. During this period I found a job doing recruitment, admin and ‘legal’ work for a Labour Brokerage in Port Elizabeth. At first I really enjoyed the challenge, but soon I realised it wasn’t the fact that it was a challenge I was just enjoying having a job and paying my own bills. I was treading water while studying – buying some time before I would really have the time to put into my idea of a dream job.

It didn’t take long for me to realise that I desperately needed a new job, not because I wasn’t being paid enough but, because, I basically I was everything that was wrong with the world. I read a contract one day and saw the amount we were taking off labourers wages as the agent… 30%! Aaaah what have I done?! Why was I doing this? I am part of the problem – NOT the solution! Despair.

My reason for going from my modest BSocSci background into Law – was to be able to assist the people who need protection in our labour market. Not the people who own the means to production, but rather those who have to sell their labour in order to survive. Where’s the justice?? Certainly not at a Labour Brokerage who create employment but then screw each worker out of a living wage. Wow. I had a big problem.

I really needed this job – it was something in my field (though on the opposite side of the spectrum), I was learning a lot and, honestly, I had rent to pay. That being said – these reasons weren’t good enough, not for me. That very day, (the day I saw the 30% ‘fee’) I walked into my boss’s office and resigned.

No job to go to. One month’s salary. Trying to find work in the Eastern Cape. My parents. My apartment. Will I have to sell my car? You ungrateful chop! Oh god! A terrible decision – I should have waited, found another job first. I could have stuck it out a bit longer. Silly, silly girl. Morals don’t put food on the table!… These thoughts were swirling around my head for days. So – I told my friends and family that I was retrenched. RETRENCHED!? I was afraid they would all tell me how stupid I have been and that I must get my head out of the clouds. “Stop being so naive…” – a line I have heard my whole life! So I lied. To everyone. Even my best friend. It will be fine…

The first month was great – job hunt in the morning – BEACH all afternoon – but soon my money started to run out and I started to panic! I spent 3 (almost 4) months without work, very little money and feeling pretty bleak with myself indeed. I couldn’t tell anyone now that I lied about being retrenched… could I? Could I ask my parents for money? NO. No ways! What a mess.

When I had nothing left in me – I found a job. (The day you give up completely, is when the world gives in). It was a great job working for a bargaining council where I helped teachers with legal advice and set up hearings for them against the Department of Education. I had to move to Centurion. It was great – but it wasn’t the job! The Job I needed! I worked there for a year, got fed up and now I work for an NGO. I have never been happier in a job than I am now.

I believe that resigning on that day changed my life. I regretted it and gave myself a very hard time a about it initially. I know now that had I stayed at the labour brokerage for any longer, it would have been a serious compromise – and I am proud to say I will never sell my soul for money (which they offered me more of when I resigned). I want to do a job which means something. Not only to me. But to other people too – the people I get to help. It’s all I’ve ever wanted and now I have it! Marilyn Monroe said it the best: ‘I don’t want to be rich – I just want to be wonderful’.

2 Comments

Filed under Growing Up

Tagged as , , , , , , , ,