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Why #MeToo Isn’t for All Abuse Survivors

From an Abuse Survivor Who Got on the Wrong Bandwagon

By Dark GoldPublished 6 years ago 6 min read
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In case you’ve been walking around with your eyes shut to the internet, MeToo is a hashtag for those who have suffered sexual abuse to make the world aware of how common the problem is. So far there’s been an overwhelming response.

It took me a while to think, shall I really do this? I don’t need to, it’s not something I would rather reflect on. However, if there’s a moment to share a scar to help others know they aren’t alone, sure. I’m not one to present myself as a scared victim. It’s just how I am. I don’t regret it and people who have met me know that.

Online, everyone else was including how their abuse affected them including some serious mental health issues and what happened during their ordeal. Others just wrote MeToo. I decided to get a little creative with mine. Let’s just say the way it was worded was a bad idea to some. I included the fact that I fought my perps back and happily beat the heck out of them.

Oh, what a backlash.

Next thing, I ended up with a whole load of lectures implying how inconsiderate and immature I was. Apparently, I’m supposed to limit presenting myself, at best, as a survivor with my scars still bleeding. Gee, how was I supposed to know the unwritten rules of MeToo? I thought sexual abuse was indiscriminate of its type of victims, from innocent unawares to loutish cows like me. Instead, I ended up having to apologise, as a survivor myself, to other fellow survivors. Repeatedly. Still the same lectures kept piling up. In fact so much so, I thought, I really don’t need to explain myself any further to people who expect me to empathise, yet are making me feel like a crock of shit. I’m not asking for pity, or to say it’s okay with a virtual hug. But to accuse me of belittling others just because I don’t choose the same words to share my experience? If everyone has right to say that they still live in fear, why is it not also allowed to say that we’re not trembling after what we’ve been through? Why is not okay to say that I am still here unafraid because I kicked someone’s backside to high heaven?

Perhaps some think I classify my abuse as someone who waved hello at me and I didn’t like it. I wonder if my following recall of abuse is more appropriate for this sadistic online campaign — of course, reading through similar bouts of abuse in tiny paragraphs wouldn’t trigger women like me. After all, immaturity and inconsideration makes me inadequate to feel anything especially when being practically forced to look back at the crap ole days. Heck, I'm still living in them to a certain degree.

I’ve been living through abuse here in my neighbourhood. I’ve also lived in a country where sexual abuse was so common it was institutionalised. If someone was to report it, we would be told by the police to brush it off and dress more modestly. Newspapers would have a field day with rape reports-it was always the victims’ fault and the way they were dressed, where they went, or not asking enough help from male relatives. I’ve had drivers pull up next to me in broad daylight jerking off under the pretense of asking directions. I’ve been chased down by wolf whistlers outside my own home on motorbikes and catcalled everyday by passing vehicles while waiting at the bus stop. I’ve been screamed at lewdly by an entire marketplace of lads. On my way to work or in a concert, I would get unwanted fingers try to grope their grubby ways to my clit. I’ve had colleagues state that they would be tempted to rape me. Let's not forget the "talent agents" who gave me the physical body test for a free touchy touchy. I’ve had people on the bus and in classrooms stealthily stick their phone cameras up my skirt and publish pictures of my underpants. I’ve had a mentally abusive same-sex relationship. I’ve also been stalked a few times, the most nearly ten years ongoing.

Sometimes I would get into physical fights with the perpetrators if things got to me. Because aside from having to shut up and take it, that was the only other option on how to cope.

Perhaps I should add the permanent state of paranoia or change of jobs and addresses? Or the variations of support from great to guilt tripping by the authorities and fellow peers saying "she was asking for it" to "is your molester OK?" Shall I add how shit it feels to constantly look over my shoulder for the sake of my loved ones as they should have never been involved in any of this, let alone me? Shall I add a crying emoji with my hashtag, knowing that there are those who think that the only place fit for me is not outside my front door but at home giving birth to 12 babies in a steel washbasin? Is that MeToo enough? Does that follow the guidelines?

Strangely enough, I don’t think I would want anyone on my Twitter or Facebook to read through all that. Like them, I prefer dancing cats.

I am sure there are other accounts that can counteract my experience, but this is not an abuse-off. This is not a competition of "my abuse was more serious than yours." This was supposed to be an opportunity to say that you aren’t alone — regardless of who you are. Not all of us survivors look or sound the same.

So I’m not going to bother with this campaign. It’s not just abuse survivors taking to social media. There are some sick people out there reading through those accounts of abuse, thinking in their disgusting pride "I did that. I hurt them." Do I want any of my abusers knowing how they tried to drag me down, summarised by a cheap hashtag? Hell no.

Rather than a MeToo, I’d prefer a #HereToo. For those who want to help and share their outrage, but can’t because they’re not the "right" gender or "haven’t been abused enough." For those who have survived but don’t or aren’t ready to say it. For those heartbroken and upset families, friends and partners who went online for a dancing cat, but picked up the phone to the police or a local hired thug instead. For those charity groups, filled to the brim with legal cases and years of MeToos wondering why after all their hard work, things have only turned around now. For the authorities who haven’t a clue on how to help, but will once they know exactly what they’re dealing with. For those who can make a difference. Together.

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About the Creator

Dark Gold

Bitter wouldn’t melt in my mouth

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