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austingirl

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  1. This is an excellent article, called My Rapist Apologized. Full text below (via The Atlantic).

    Spoiler

     

    My Rapist Apologized

    The Kavanaugh allegations led me to reach out to the man who had assaulted me decades before.

    On Friday morning, President Donald Trump tweeted that he has “no doubt that, if the attack on Dr. Ford was as bad as she says, charges would have been immediately filed with local Law Enforcement Authorities by either her or her loving parents.”

    Let me tell you what life was like as a girl in Montgomery County, Maryland, in the early 1980s. I am a year older than Christine Blasey Ford and a year younger than Brett Kavanaugh. I grew up in Potomac, Maryland, a few miles from both Holton Arms, Ford’s school, and Georgetown Prep, which Kavanaugh attended, but I went to my local public high school, Churchill. Never mind that any girl who was in high school in Potomac during that era knew, through the whisper network, not to go to a Georgetown Prep party alone. That was a given. What was also a given is that “date rape,” as a term, was in its infancy. Most of us thought getting our bodies groped at a high-school party—or anywhere—was the unfortunate price we paid for having them, not something we would ever go to the police to report.

    Even in junior high school, this was true. I have a vivid memory of my friend Marcia having her skirt ripped off her body in the middle of a bar mitzvah dance floor. It had snaps down the middle. I actually heard one boy say, as she was weeping in a corner, trying to refasten her skirt, “I mean, duh. If you’re going to wear snaps on your skirt, what do you think will happen?” I made a mental note: Never wear snaps to a dance party.

    Luckily, I survived high school without getting more than ickily groped now and then, but my luck ran out in college. I fell victim to a number of random assaults by strangers, including two robberies at gunpoint, all of which then became fodder for my senior thesis, but I wasn’t actually date raped until the night before my graduation, in June of 1988. Or maybe it was May. I don’t actually remember which month I graduated from college, because it was so long ago, but that does not negate what I do remember—both the rape itself, and what happened in its aftermath. I woke up, put on my cap and gown, and fetched my diploma to the notes of “Pomp and Circumstance” in front of my unsuspecting parents, just like everyone else in my class. Afterward, I posed for photos with my parents and smiled. Then, between our photo session and lunch, I excused myself to take care of what I said was an administrative issue and went straight to University Health Services to report the rape.

    I was told by the intake psychologist that I had two choices: I could report the rape to the police; stay in the Boston area for several months, to deal with the trial; hire lawyers to help me through it with money I did not have; and put off beginning my life in Paris, where I’d planned to move for work, while awaiting my turn on the witness stand, where my prior sex life would be put on trial, more than the boy who raped me. Or I could stay silent.

    At lunch that day, did I tell my loving parents that I’d been raped the night before? Of course not. That boy had already stolen a valuable piece of my soul. I was not going to allow him to steal my graduation day from us, too. I’d worked hard to reach that day. So had my parents. This was our day, not his.

    In fact, I never actually told my parents to their faces. Instead, 13 years after the rape in question, I sent them the manuscript for my first memoir, in which I described the rape, for the first time, in detail, making sure to put an ocean between us while they read. I didn’t want to see the pained expression on my dad’s face or hear my mother crying until they’d had enough time to process it. Several notable critics of the book, after it was published, took it upon themselves either to blame me for my assaults or to ask if I was worried I’d get called a slut.

    The fact that Ford did not call the police or tell her loving parents after she escaped this young man’s scary clutches has no bearing on the truth of her story. Plus, let’s keep in mind: She was 15 years old. She couldn’t even drive herself home. That’s one of the images that haunts me—young Chrissy Blasey walking out of that house and facing the rest of her post-traumatic life, on foot.

    But there has been an upside to the Kavanaugh circus and Trump’s presidency. For one, it has galvanized women and the men who love us. For another, like so many rape survivors in this country living through this particular moment in history, having to relive our assaults daily—even hourly—with every new allegation of rape, I have been so brought to my knees by this latest allegation that I, too, was inspired to speak out.

    Directly. To my rapist.

    I wrote him a letter, 30 years after the night in question, reminding him of what he’d done and how hard it has been to overcome.

    And do you know what this man did, less than half an hour later? He called me on the phone and said, “Oh, Deb. Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I had no idea. I’m filled with shame.”

    We spoke for a long time, maybe 20 minutes. He had no recollection of raping me, just of the party where we’d met. He’d blacked out that night from excessive drinking and soon thereafter entered Alcoholics Anonymous. But that, he said, was no excuse. The fact that he’d done this to me and that I’d been living with the resulting trauma for 30 years was horrifying to him. He was so sorry, he said. He just kept repeating those words, “I’m so sorry,” over and over.

    Suddenly, 30 years of pain and grief fell out of me. I cried. And I cried. And I kept crying for the next several hours, as I prepared for Yom Kippur, the Jewish holiday of forgiveness. And then, suddenly, I was cleansed. Reborn. The trauma was gone. All because of a belated apology.

    My rapist promised to pay it forward, this horrible thing he’d just learned about himself. I have no doubt, judging by the admirable life he’s led, he will. And I will keep my promise to him never to reveal his name.

    But you know what? If he were being confirmed for the Supreme Court; if his decision over what would happen to my daughter’s body, should she become inadvertently pregnant, would tip the scales away from Roe; if one of the key aspects of his job as a judge would be to show and to have shown good judgment over the course of his life, you better believe that I, like Ford, would come forward and tell the committee. Even if it meant going into hiding, as she’s had to do. Even if it meant getting death threats, as she’s received.

    The life of my daughter is at stake. Her bodily autonomy is at stake. As a mother who grew up being groped at house parties in the ’80s, I want to make sure that whoever is passing judgment on the next generation has, at the very least, judgment to pass.

     

     

    • Like 2
  2. 4 minutes ago, FondrenRoad said:

    Heres another thing you don't get. Maybe there was a guy there she actually wanted to fuck.  Does that matter? In fact, she could have gone to those parties intending to fuck every guy there except Brett. But when Brett comes around and she says no, what do you think no means?  

    Even chicks who like to get gang banged, should get to pick who gang bangs them. 

     

    FIFY

  3. 2 minutes ago, Mdhorn said:

    Just bought a t-shirt but really wanted that mug.  It shows up online but not for sale.  

    They said the items are only for volunteers (shameless plug - sign up here). I've certainly never seen this design anywhere else but I like it. 

  4. Haven't read all replies yet but when Cruz turned the "thoughts and prayers" comment into how HE will certainly pray for anyone, all I could think of was this. 53ada5c8afe6974a808af3968887140d.jpg


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

    • Like 1
  5.  

    11 hours ago, HenryJames said:

    That was actually pretty good.

    My disgust for Ted Cruz is well-documented here but I admit that I snickered at that.

    7 hours ago, Ten Bears said:

    Didn't someone say they had access to a few extra free Beto signs?  Someone has been stealing them in my hood and I would like to help replace them.

    If you're in Austin, go by Circle Brewing - they've held a couple of events for him and always end up with extra signs. We listed our house in June and gave our sign away, but after we moved we were at Circle and they gave us a new sign for free because they had so many.

    There was one lone Ted Cruz sign in Milwood (amongst the sea of Beto ones) that I used to see driving to work, but this morning it was gone. Not sure if the owner changed their tune or what.

  6. My beloved grandpa, god rest his soul, was a yellow-dog democrat. He was also terribly racist. In 2007 he told me that if his choices in the presidential election were a Republican and a black man, he just wouldn't vote. 

    When I was a kid in Port Arthur my dad sat me down to talk to me about why black people and white people could be friends at school but nothing more than that. (A black friend of mind from school had walked by our house and stopped to talk to me from the other side of our chain-link fence.) He said it was like cats and dogs mixing. I should note that he has dramatically changed his ways since then, in a rare case of an old dog learning new tricks.

  7. I took some time off between jobs and didn't work between April and July of this year. I was a Beto supporter early on and had half-heartedly looked for ways to support the DNC in general, but all I ever saw on their site was info about giving donations. However, for the first time in forever I actually had time to give, so I dug around on Beto's site and found a volunteer form with a bunch of ways I could use my time to help his campaign. I picked a few things I thought I could help with and filled out the form. The next day I hopped on a training call with a Beto staffer and the day after that I started sending texts for them. I think back to those early days and how SO many people I talked to had no idea who Beto was, and now he's neck and neck with Cruz. I haven't been able to do much since I went back to work, but I do think every little bit counts.

    My general advice is that if you don't just want to donate money, go poke around on a specific candidate's site and see if they have volunteer opportunities that make the most of the time you have to give. They will always push donations first, but usually in-kind opportunities are there, especially if it's a grassroots campaign.

  8.  

    On 8/15/2018 at 8:56 PM, Bevo said:

     

    7 hours ago, GreenspointTexas said:

    Just got back from Galveston. Almost didnt make it out. Almost every road not named Seawall flooded. Lots of cars trapped. Looks like Harvey part 2 down there. Strand completely flooded.

     

    insane amount of rain over the past 14-15 hours down there. Just a guess but at least a foot of rain today

    My parents came in from Crystal Beach this morning and said High Island got about 5 inches in a couple of hours. Water is over 87 in some parts. Pic below is from KBMT and I saw a video this morning of a bunch of flooded streets in Port Arthur. I really hope everyone who was able to rebuild after Harvey got flood insurance.

    40760177_10155556501776604_8339201586739

     

  9. Does anyone know of a reputable organization that helps people get photo IDs so they can vote in Texas? Is there even such a thing? I'd like to volunteer for something like this in the months heading into the election. I don't have a ton of bandwidth right now and I feel like this is an area where my time would be most valuable. Or if anyone has better ideas I'd love to hear them (keeping in mind that I already volunteer with Beto's campaign).


    Sent from my iPhone using Tapatalk

  10. Do you think Bernadette and Beatrice coordinated their outfits on purpose?

    Our house is on the market (in WilCo) so we reluctantly pulled our yard sign and gave it to our stager to temporarily use. We move next weekend back into Austin proper and I'm looking forward to displaying my sign again.

  11. 38 minutes ago, Patricio Swayze said:

     


    Yep, growing like a weed! Her sister Amelia turned one at the end of May. For some reason it feels like she is taking forever to get to the talking and walking stage. Here she is with Jaca. Poor Jaca is getting old and grey.

    ka6czhdG_o.jpeg

    Sorry y’all, most of my dog pictures have kids in them these days.

     

    Oh look at his big sweet face. It's ok, pup. Age gets all of us.

    • Like 1
  12. 13 hours ago, Patricio Swayze said:

    Sorry to hear about the losses, but happy to hear about the new additions.

    Gabi has been referring to our dogs as her “dragons” lately. They protect from the witch that wants to turn her into a frog.

    Papai doesn’t know how to do hair, but I kind of like the wild stylings.

    duYXzcfo_o.jpeg

    Wow, I don't think I've seen Gabi since she was a tiny infant! She's so big now!

    • Like 1
  13. 13 hours ago, Sandman said:

    My little boston terrier jackasses were chewing on just about anything, so I bought a 2 pack of these horns on amazon. They fucking love them. It really does hold their attention. Unfortunately, it hurts like hell when you step on or kick one. Fuck.

    Oh yeah, after they've gnawed on the ends and they are kind of shredded? Like stepping on jagged rocks.

    10 hours ago, MissingInAction said:

    Luna with her crew. These three are not to be fucked with.

     

    38734779_10156724114958578_6059723255747

    You, sir, are in for some trouble.

    7 hours ago, stc said:

    Open up please, I have a gift for you.

    c89cb2e9e6f7a55b52c7cff59ee6350e.jpg

    Is that a possum? Edgar once ran inside and dropped a rat at my feet while I was in my home office on a conference call. Thanks for taking out the rodent, buddy, but save it till I'm not giving a client presentation.

  14. 16 hours ago, Chico_SA said:

    I'm not going to lie.  I just spent an hour outside watering the grass thinking about how I can do more during these last few months.  My neighborhood was a red pocket in a mostly blue area of Northwest San Antonio in 2016,  but I'm seeing BETO signs pop up almost daily.  Mine was the first about 3 months ago and now it's getting close to 20.  I was thinking about how I would react to someone I called saying they only vote R. I came to the conclusion  that "thanks" was the way to go, but I also imagined it might be hard not to engage. 

    Yeah, you can't engage when representing the campaign. That's for Facebook rants and family reunions. I just think of it as prioritizing. No sense arguing with someone who isn't going to change their mind for anything. Better to move on to the ones who are genuinely on the fence.

    8 hours ago, Huckleberry said:

    Ha. I got a cold text for Beto and responded that I'm planning to vote for him because Ted Cruz is a gutless coward but that if they texted me again I might have to reconsider.

    I didn't even get the "Thanks!" reply. So at least they're smart.

    As soon as someone says that we opt them out. At least, that's the rule.

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