Important Post to Me

I just finished reading Seeker's post, well, the one before the Pink Ribbon post and he had some pretty good ideas about some things. I also noticed that he posted about this: 6) There are uncountable women I have met in my days that claim to have been raped, date-raped, molested. While I realize this shit does happen. I think a little of it is over dramatized and is possibly fake memories. The wrold wants you to be a victim therefore you become one to gain some sort of fucking sympathy. Bugger off. I believe in some ways that is absolutely true. In other ways, it couldn't be more than false. The media has a made a mockery of the severity of rape. We have watched Kobe Bryant's accuser be put on trial in the name of justice. Because of it, like another blogger said, we may never know if he was falsely accused or really is a rapist. I've seen a proliferation of books and articles pointing fingers at famous and not-so-famous folks due to molestation and rape. Once it hits the mainstream media it can and will be distorted until the truth lies in a pile of shambles and basically numbs our society. Just another story, just another rape. I can say for certain that 85-90% of my girlfriends have either been raped or molested in their lifetime, all by family members, acquaintances or dates, sometimes friends of friends. I know none of them who have been attacked by a stranger. You will not find any of us writing books or going on Oprah or Dr. Phil about how our lives were changed by those encounters. We dealt with it, we moved on, wiser and stronger. None of sued for millions in civil court. As a matter of fact, I was the only one who even settled mine through the court system, albeit criminal court. I have to say that I am leary of stories of "surpressed memories" and things like that. Why? Because its media oriented. I'll never know the true story, never be able to meet these people to get the full measure of who they are. Once again, the media, in the name of "knowledge" saturates us with these stories and numbs our society. This is my story as closely and honestly as I can relate it. It was 1992. I was a Criminal Justice major at a nearby college. I had an evening class called "Ethics in Criminal Justice." (That is soooo ironic now) In class I made friends with a guy, I'll call him Marty. He was married with a child and worked in with a security company during the day. This required him to travel so when he wasn't in class I would copy my notes for him and if I couldn't be there he would do the same. This is nothing I didn't do for countless other classmates. He was set to graduate that Spring and planned on entering the Corrections Academy to become a Corrections officer. In early 1993, I received a call at my job from Marty. He was in town from the Academy and wanted to catch up and find out how school was going for me. He went on and on about how great the Academy was etc. He said he just wanted to have a cup of coffee and talk. I thought nothing of it. I had coffee all the time with guys and gals I met at college. Plus, this is someone who had graduated in my degree program and everyone knows that its not who you are, but who you know. He picked me up at the college at about 1:00 in the afternoon. I had to be back in class at 3:00. He mentioned a place nearby that served home-cooking so I said, "sure." We chatted about the Academy and he asked about some teachers and things and how my classes were going. When we got to the place it was closed (??) so we picked up some coffee from the 7-11. He had ridden with a local sheriff's department when he interned and told me he would show me where they parked to catch speeders. He pulled off the road and onto an access road that I had driven by numerous times and never noticed. There we sat in broad daylight, 20 feet from the main highway, completely concealed. He shut the motor off. (I realize now, in hindsight, that I had been had. He set that up perfectly. The friendly call, the closed diner, the concealed area... I'd been set up.) He turned to me and pulled a gun out from beside the seat and slid it barrel first down the dash up against the windshield, well within his reach, but far from mine. That knawing feeling in the pit of my stomach since I saw the closed diner exploded in full blown gremlins chewing at my insides. All I could see was his fingers caressing the butt of that gun. "You know Inanna, I've always liked you." And you know, that's all I can remember. I don't remember how I responded. I know he said he wanted to kiss me. I remember telling him I didn't want to, I didn't want to do anything. I just kept talking and talking and talking. I remember telling him that he really didn't want to do this, about his wife, his child, how I didn't want to do it. I fought his hands as they came under my sweater and down my pants and I just kept talking. Then he kissed me and forced his tongue into my mouth and I turned my face and I pulled at his hand to get it out of my pants and kept pushing at him and just kept telling him how much he didn't want to do this and how much I didn't want him to. I still remember the sound of him dragging that damn gun across the dashboard. It makes my stomach turn and the hair on my arms and the back of my neck stand up. I can still see his fucking ugly pock-marked face looking at me, as though contemplating his next move. "I need to go back to school." "Sure." He slid over in the seat and stashed the gun between his legs. I still wasn't sure if he was going to take me back to school or if they would find my body somewhere before the bugs and critters scattered me to the four ends of the Earth. (I think back now and wonder why I didn't pull the door handle and get out of the truck and I know its because I was scared and was in shock... plus, I had no idea if anyone would have even rescued me before he got a hold of me.) So, you know that I'm alive and he took me back to school. I got out, shut the door and I never looked back. He stalked me at my job for a while. In the meantime, I lost 15 or 20 lbs. I stopped going to class. I quit going out. Before I turned him in, I was eating one bite of food a day. I weighed 105. None of my clothes fit. I wanted to die. (I want to say, that even though Marty didn't rape me, what he did was a crime that I wasn't even aware existed. I thought it had to be rape... yeah, and I was a criminal justice major.) I was sitting in the hallway waiting to see my advisor and started to talking to Stewart, a guy who worked and went to school when he could fit it in. He worked the same place as Marty did on weekends. I made a comment about how Marty had told me how things really were at the jail and then I blurted out about what Marty had done to me. Stewart talked me into coming down to the Sheriff's department to talk to his boss on the pretense of Marty's big fat mouth. I knew better. The story came out, first to the Sheriff's Department, who then turned it over to the State Police. They were tough but kind. I repeated my story over and over as it moved up the chain of command. I gave a video statement. Then, I called Marty at the Corrections Academy and set up another phone meeting. Sgt. S. wanted me to meet with him in person but his boss, said, NO WAY! The day came and I had to do some pretty fine acting as he lied, and lied and lied about what had happened... until I broke him. He admitted it and begged me not to go to the police. Little did he know they were not only listening in but tape-recording our conversation. It helped that after the story came out, other women on The Hill, The Hill being where the Sheriff's Department, State Police, jail and Courthouse all were at the time, came forward with testimony and evidence of how he had stalked and harrassed them. When they arrested him, he denied everything. Sgt. S. sat down with him and reminded him of the conversation he had with me not long before and informed him that it had been recorded in the very office where he sat. He broke down and cried and said he had been abused as a child etc. etc. Which may very well be the truth as its quite common. I really didn't give a shit. He received probation, sex offender classes and he has to register as a sex offender. I went to counseling, which I paid for myself, and I moved on with my life. My teachers were very understanding and allowed me to make up work as I could and grade me on what I had been able to accomplish. Notably my Sociology teacher who had me in class before and was the first to notice that something was wrong. I love that man!! Thanks Dr. Thompson!! Don't get me wrong. I believe that rape happens, molestation happens and it is common and frequent. The media however, instead of helping, has hindered forward progression of the understanding of a terrible crime. Instead of people wondering what we can do to help the victims, we're wondering how much they will make in their civil suits and book deals while the common women, men (yes men!) and children plunder on in silence. I don't want anyone to feel sorry for me, nor to give me book deals or make a movie. Its a part of my life that I have moved on from and quite frankly, I just don't want any money to remind me of something that I've put behind me. Can you imagine getting a fancy new car and peeps asking about it and you saying, "Yeah, I bought it with my rape pay-off money." I didn't think so.