**Edited to add: I wouldn’t drop kick any of you and step on your neck. You have shown me no pity, only support.**
One of the reasons it took me 20 years to speak out about what happened to me when I was 12 is that I hate – HATE – being looked at with pity.
I’ll be damned if people are going to whisper to each other behind my back about how sorry they feel for me – the girl who was raped, the woman who was raped as a child and never spoke about it. Hell. the fuck. NO. I will not be looked at as a victim.
Want to look at me with pity? Watch me drop kick you to the floor and step on your neck with my heel. Now what?
Yes, I was raped – but that is not who I am, I won’t let it define me. It changed the course of my life, that can’t be denied. I can’t say who I would have been, if that hadn’t happened to me. But I won’t grieve the loss of that person, because she doesn’t exist.
My biggest fear, all those years, was that if people knew my story, they would never be able to look at me the same, again. My dad still doesn’t know, and I hope he never does. There are some things a daddy needs to be protected from, and I won’t put that in his head, not if I can help it.
And so, for nearly twenty years, I hid. Not only my story, but my true self. I put on a mask and made people work very, very hard to see past it. It’s the main reason I have been characterized as a snobby bitch on more than one occasion, but it’s my safety net. No one looks at an ice-cold bitch with pity in their eyes.
Even now, when I’m going through something difficult that might expose my vulnerability, I retreat and set my icy mask into place. It’s immensely frustrating for the people who love me and care about me, I know it is. I know it is.
But things have changed. Something has shifted, and I feel…. free.
The fire that burns inside me will not be smothered any longer. And I am tired of hiding, completely exhausted from trying to appear to be someone I’m not.
I am who I am, and I will not apologize.
And you know what else? It feels pretty fucking great to be me.
13 replies on “Pity”
Trying to figure out how you fit such a big attitude into such a tiny body. lol
This is why I love you. You are stronger than you know.
@PrincessJenn, I’m a Bulldog in a Chihuahua’s body, eh? 🙂
No pity whatsoever. You’re a bad-ass. xoxo
No pity here. You are so strong, so amazing. Like Cindy said, you’re a bad-ass 🙂
I am so happy for you. Not happy what occurred did, of course. But so happy that you finally have it out there. It’s a monumental and admirable thing. It’s awful it happened, but I don’t pity you, because you are right, pity is reserved for the weak. You are anything but that.
That’s because you ARE pretty great.
Now please don’t step on my neck, because pity isn’t a word I’ve ever associated with you, you pint-sized Amazon!
<3
For what it’s worth, I think you’re tremendously brave to share your story. And I want to give the 12-year-old you a hug and tell her how sorry I am. Then I want to tell the 30-something you that I’m so glad you’ve become (and are becoming!) who you are. That’s not pity, is it? (I hope not because I kinda like my neck the way it is.)
I pity the fool that pities you. Come on, it HAD to be said 😉
You’re awesome, Dre. Keep it moving forward, love.
“It feels pretty fucking great to be me.”
I damn near cheered reading this – fuck, yeah! 🙂
I never meant to offend you. It was such an overwheliming story and “Sorry” was the only thing I could say. I didn’t know what else to say.
But I don’t see you as the victim. I see you, a woman who is incredibly strong and brave and proud of herself!
I think you’re awesome.
That kind of freedom is amazing, when it comes. Good for you, my sweet friend. 🙂
i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again… you are a force to be reckoned with.
Dear Dre, Thanks for the words of support on my poem at ViolenceUnsilenced (The Ultimate Offender)! This piece you wrote here is AWESOME, because, even though it might take 20+ years (for me, anyway) to turn obstacles into doors to walk through, and all that kinda stuff, the Ultimate Freedom is like floating on a cloud. I have made peace with my past, my father, the life I had before illness (which I sometimes still grieve for, though) I love your website and I’m glad to have “met” you. You say you were a “bitch”, but that’s a label, and unfair, because you were only protecting your heart. You have every right to do what you need to be/feel safe. Sorry for rambling. Thanks again! Love & light, Jamie Rae