Wednesday, January 1, 2014


It's interesting to watch as one idea leads to another, taking you on an unexpected journey.

A few days ago, Becka posted to Facebook about SlutWalk and asked if I'd go to one with her. I've never directly said it before... but... my daughter was raped a few years ago.

The invitation led to researching the movement, then to considering the rape culture that is still so much a part of western civilization... and world culture, really. Though culture is so very much the wrong word for the attitudes about women AND men that allow rape and sexual assault to remain commonplace.

It had been a long time since I'd discussed the topic in any meaningful way and decided to do a round of "10 Things You Don't Know About Me" on Twitter. For the first time, it was to be intentionally serious. Please bear in mind, the intent was to start small, hence "10 Things".

In writing about those 10 specific things, I mentioned psychiatric abuse, specifically that of one Martin Stein.

The resulting emotions were more powerful than I had expected. Part of me was still angry that there were people able to stand up and speak out about him. I was jealous... and realized that for all the healing that came from finding an alter hidden inside in a pink quiet room of her own, silently staying there in testament to the truth, and setting her free... there was more to the letting go.

So I sat down and wrote the bastard a letter. I'd written a letter to the Washington Post when the original article was printed but it was never shared beyond my own diary. Funny that at his (failed) reinstatement hearing, he was called a narcissist. I'd made the same "diagnosis" in that letter to the editor 10 years ago.

I was already in the process of accepting I'm a write or die person. Writing the letter a few posts back was something I needed on many levels. Learning to express myself in more than 140 characters was only one of them.

Posting the letter gave me the strength to go back to The Crew, pull up the files of my old writing, and begin the reposting process anew.

Wouldn't you know it, one of the first posts in this new cycle would be a poem written, in her paper journal, by Reese on behalf of The Girl In The Quiet Room. It was because of that poem Lyn, Dr. C and I were able to find her, let her know we knew the truth and no one could lock her away again.

I want to thank Becka for opening this door again, painful though it may be. I hope we can one day talk about these events in our past without the pain and anger I know Becka still carries.

I want to honor Reese and the Girl for helping me hold together long enough for someone to hear. I want to thank them for being a strength I didn't know I possessed.

And to once again assure myself(ves), never again.

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