Sexuality Happens

Tomorrow, December 17th, is the International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers, and I think it is important that as many people as possible know about it, participate, and pass it on. Much of this is taken from the Sex Worker Outreach Project. Let me remind you that sex workers are people. They are mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, offspring. They are friends, lovers, scared, excited, in love, loving, caring, hurting, sharing, and much more. I have been a sex worker, and often consider myself one as I work as a sex coach and a sex educator, teaching hands on workshops, and making my living by helping to improve others sex lives. Sex workers are people, like you, and her, and him. You probably know at least one sex worker, whether or not they are out to you. They are escorts and porn stars and phone sex operators and pro-dommes and street workers and sex surrogates and more. And sadly, sex workers have an incredibly high incidence of violence against them. Today, we need to think about what is it we can do to protect these members of OUR communities. Please, stand up and do your part.

-Essin’ Em

Read Stopping the Terror: A Day to End Violence Against Prostitutes by Annie Sprinkle from On The Issues Magazine.

December 17th is International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers. This event was created to call attention to hate crimes committed against sex workers all over the globe. Originally thought of by Dr. Annie Sprinkle and started by the Sex Workers Outreach Project USA as a memorial and vigil for the victims of the Green River Killer in Seattle Washington. International Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers has empowered workers from over cities around the world to come together and organize against discrimination and remember victims of violence. During the week of December 17th, sex worker rights organizations will be staging actions and vigils to raise awareness about violence that is commonly committed against sex workers. The assault, battery, rape and murder of sex workers must end. Existing laws prevent sex workers from reporting violence. The stigma and discrimination that is perpetuated by the prohibitionist laws has made violence against us acceptable. Please join with sex workers around the world and stand against criminalization and violence committed against prostitutes.

TEN WAYS TO PARTICIPATE IN INTERNATIONAL DAY TO END VIOLENCE AGAINST SEX WORKERS

(EVERYONE IS INVITED)

1. Organize a vigil/memorial/gathering in your town. Simply choose a place and time. Invite people to bring their stories, writings, thoughts, related news items, poems, lists of victims, performances, and memories. Take turns sharing.
2. Organize or attend a candlelight vigil in a public place.
3. Do something at home alone which has personal meaning, such as a memorial bath, or light a candle.
4. Call a friend and discuss the topic.
5. Send a donation to a group that helps sex workers stay safer. Some teach self-defense or host web sites that caution workers about bad Johns. Donate to Sex Worker Outreach Project.
6. Read the Sex Workers Outreach Project’s web site, www.swop-usa.org, Do let others know about any planned Dec. 17 events by listing them on the site. (Although sadly this site is not current and I’m not sure if someone is following through on this.) There is also a wikipedia entry about Dec. 17 which you can read.
7. Spread the word about the Day to End Violence Against Sex Workers and the issues it raises; blog, email, send a press release, forward this text to others.
8. Attend a Dec. 17th Day to End Violence event/action/memorial. Everyone is welcome.
9. Organize a panel discussion about violence towards sex workers. Procure a community space and invite speakers like sex workers, police, and families of victims.
10. Create your own way to participate. People have done celebrations, Xmas caroling, protests at jails, lobbying at City Halls, naked women reading whore writings, performance art, visual art projects, and other creative, fun and moving things.

Today, November 20th, is National (and International) Transgender Day of Remembrance. In the last few years (and this video is from last year, so there are more names and faces to be sadly added), over 100 people have been murdered for their gender identity/presentation. This doesn’t even take into account the hundreds and possibly THOUSANDS of people who are assaulted based on their gender, and tens of thousands more who are harassed each and every day.

Please watch this video. Again, it’s a year old, so many people are missing, but if you cannot take nine minutes out of your life to remember those who we have lost due to violence against the transgender community, what does that say? After you watch it, please think for a moment, or two, or ten, what YOU can do to create change in your community, in our community. How can we make it stop? This is completely unacceptable and heartbreaking. No one should have to be scare to leave their home due to their gender, and they should certainly not be scared of being killed. This is flat out wrong, and regardless of your politics, or religion, or moral views, is is NEVER ok to hurt and/or murder someone because of who they are. Ever.

If we don’t stand up and create this change, no one will. Stand up for people who are being harmed and whose voices are being heard. Create change, NOW. And always, always remember those we have lost.

-Essin’ Em

For those of you who don’t know, or who are new here, I am a survivor of sexual violence. And sexual assault. And sexual harassment. I’ve met very few people who are not survivors of something surrounding this. Every April, I republish my story, and parts of my recovery, in honor of Sexual Assault Awareness month. I encourage people to donate whatever money or time that they have to give to RAINN (Rape and Incest National Network), or whatever local sexual violence prevention and survivor assistance organization(s) they care about or can find.

Here is another way. Instead of sharing your story (although I highly encourage people to do that), you can share your feelings of hope, of light, of survival with other survivors and victims of sexual violence.

Thanks to Holly for bringing my attention to this.

As a side note, this is for women and transfolk, but please remember that people of all genders are survivors of sexual assault.

-Essin’ Em

Call For Submission

Dear Sister, edited by Lisa Factora-Borchers, is an anthology of letters and other works created for survivors of sexual violence from other survivors and allies. It is a collection of hope and strength through words and art.

The pathway for a survivor of rape and sexual violence is an unlit road of pain, isolation and doubt. In the weeks, months and oftentimes, years following, the healing process can be difficult to navigate without a community surrounding her. Imagine a compilation of literary arms bound together to offer words of understanding, solidarity and love. Dear Sister is an accessible and inclusive offering of hope, voice and courage; seeking writers and artists who wish to light a piece of that road and lift up other women in her healing.

It is an impossible task to write a letter to every survivor of rape, to every woman who lives with an invisible scar. Instead of thinking of the face of the person you are writing to, reflect on the image of an unlit path, a road with no clear footing. Your offering will be one light, among many, to make visible what was previously unseen, to illuminate what was hidden. You are providing a few more steps for someone to walk steadily toward their own recovery. Your words can be an anchor, a meditation, a prayer, a strong embrace or a gentle touch. The purpose of this anthology is not to retell stories of assault, but to help others regain a sense of balance and wholeness.

Mindfully move beyond what is commonly said and reflect upon radical companionship. Write what you wish for her to know and never forget. And if you lose focus, look deep into a mirror and reflect: What would you want to be told if you were in the darkness?

Information

Dear Sister primarily seeks letters but will accept poems, prose, essay and drawn art that can either be scanned for entry. Maximum word count is 1,000. Deadline for submission is November 1, 2010.

Women and transpeople of any race, creed, background, citizenship or non-citizen, ability and identity are encouraged to submit their words and work to uplift others in the healing stages of post trauma and violence. Both English and Spanish are accepted. All questions can be directed to dearsisteranthology@gmail.com.

Submissions can be emailed as an attachment with “Dear Sister Entry” in the subject to dearsisteranthology@gmail.com.

Hand written letters can be address and mailed to:
Dear Sister Anthology
P.O. Box 202468
Cleveland, OH 44120

Note from the Editor

Rape and sexual violence thrive in the silence of our homes and communities. Outreach must be wide and intentional if we seek to hear from those who are silenced. Please forward this to as many individuals, groups, organizations, listserves, websites and agencies that come to mind

Hey you.

Yes, YOU.

You know a sexual assault survivor…in fact, you probably know a whole bunch.

It doesn’t matter what gender you are, what your orientation is, how many friends you have, where you live, or even whether you have assault/harassesed/raped someone in the past, or whether you spent time working against sexual assault.

You still know people who have been assaulted. Don’t be an ostrich and pretend that you don’t. They could be friends, family, co-workers, lovers, partners, former partners, teachers, students, dog-walkers, etc. You know them.

And if you’re a good person, which I assume you are (or at least, want to be), you’ll want to support them in some way.  There are so many ways to help people who are victims/survivors (I prefer survior, not all people do), so why not give it a go.  Here are some ideas:

*Believe them. So often, people talk about false reports, how people make stuff up, how unless a penis went in a vagina while she struggled and shouted no that it’s not assault. All of that is bullshit. If someone shares a little or a lot of their story with you, BELIEVE THEM.

*Be there.  Be there whether they decide to tell you or not, whether they tell you just one sentence or the whole story comes pouring out.  Just be there.

*Ask what you can do to help. Some people need a shoulder, others need a place to crash, some just want you to hold them while others don’t want you to touch them. ALWAYS ask, whether this happened yesterday or ten years ago.

*Do NOT try to tell a survivor what they “should” or “have to” do.  They want to regain strength and control.  Be there to help, but let them make their own decisions, like who to tell (or n0t), what charges to file (or to not do so), etc. There is not right way to be a survivor.

*Do NOT add more violence to the situation, by saying things like “I’m going to kill that fucking asshole” or “that bitch is gonna die.” Violence is scary period. It is MUCH scarier after you’ve been intimately affected by it.

*For those who are dealing with legal or medical rammifications, help them.  Whether that is driving them to a court house, helping them film out school/police reports, googling info on local laws, statutes of limitations, finding them a SANE (sexual asssault nurse examiner) to help them find evidence, etc. It doesn’t have to be an all day event; any little thing is a show of support.

*Donate money, time or both to your local or national sexual assault organizations, whether they shelter surviors, run hotlines, train college campuses on how to change the climate towards sexual assault prevention, etc.

*Help compile lists of good therapists; get recommendations from friends, online, from sexual assault survivor support sites.  Make copies, or put them online.  If you’re in a more niche community (queer, kink, etc), help find kink aware therapists, and queer friendly professionals.

*Make lists of local sexual assault support organizations.  Have these available or hand or email to survivors.

*Speak out. On facebook, change your status to say something against sexual assault or that you support survivors. On twitter, tweet about it. Put up a blog post, or relink to posts like this on tumbler. In the real world, stand up and speak. Be part of Take Back the Night. When someone touches someone inappropriately, or says something that is harassement, speak out against it.  There IS strength in numbers.

It is only if we all band together that we can make change. Don’t be part of the problem, but worse, don’t be a bystander.  Bystanders are how people get killed because no one spoke up, or how sexual harassment becomes an acceptable norm, because no one spoke up. Don’t be that person.  Do whatever you can, however little or however big, to support sexual assault survivors, and to work together to eliminate and eradicate sexual assault.

-Essin’ Em

I post this story in April every year. Why? April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I am making people aware. My assault doesn’t fall into what most people think of when they think of rape or sexual assault, but what happened in January 2003 has impacted so many areas of my life. I share it so people know that assault is multi faceted, and it affects everyone. And that you can get through it. And that everyone’s story is different, but that far too many are so similar.

I will write more about support survivors and such this month, but for now, here is my story.  Same as ever, I just get a little bit stronger each and every time I tell it and realize that I am stronger than he could ever be.  Last year, he moved back into Denver, to a neighborhood right by mine. How do I know this? Because he found me on facebook, and messaged me to tell me he was living near me.  Asking me if I wanted to hook up.  I called Q in tears, terrified I’d run into him at the park or the grocery.  He never realized how much he fucked me up.

But I won. I decided not to be afraid to go out, not to change my schedule.  Because I am stronger than him. And always will be.

This is my story.

This isn’t the story of someone walking home in the dark and getting jumped by a stranger from the bushes. Most sexual assaults don’t happen that way.

Nor is it a story of me going out and drinking/hooking up with someone who had been drinking and it just going too far. Some sexual assaults happen that way.

It also isn’t a story of my partner not listening to me, and doing something we had done before even though I said no this time. Sexual assaults happen this way a lot more than people realize.

No. This is the story of how friendship of sorts can lead sexual coercion and how that can lead to sexual assault. And how that can lead to survivor blaming.

I was 17, and it was the second semester of my first year in college. I had this friendship/crush thing with a guy from a different hall on the same floor all year, and it had been completely unfruitful. Occasionally we’d listen to the Smashing Pumpkins together (he let me burn all his CDs), occasionally we’d sit together in the dining hall, occasionally, I’d run into him at parties. He was always sarcastic, but also quite witty…and I liked him.

Winter break came, and I went home to Denver. One night, quite late (2am or so), he IMed me, which wasn’t abnormal. However, what *was* odd was how he was acting. He was being flirty and coming onto me….and of course, since I liked him at the time, I was the same way back. The conversation ended, and that was that.

Then I came back to school in January for the half-block (two weeks of a short and fun class before regular classes started again. He was there too…I saw him around occasionally, but there was nothing different about our interactions. Lots of sarcasm and wit.

One night, I was on my computer, and he IMed me again. He was being flirty again, and told me to come over to his room…he had a book he thought I would like. I walked over to his room, knocked on his door, and he told me to come in…I did, and he was sitting at his computer, naked as a jaybird. I turned around and high tailed it out of there, running back to my room. I was so confused; what the hell was that supposed to mean?

He was online again, telling me to come back, and that he was sorry, and clothed again. Stupidly, I decided to go back. It was half block, and no one was there, and he was being flirtatious, and I had liked him for months. So I went back.

This time, he had his clothes on. I think he may have been a bit tipsy; I don’t know. We sat and chatted for a little bit, and then we wound up sitting and talking in in his bed. We wound up making out, and I was shocked. I didn’t know what was going on…up until this point, I had kissed two or three people, and dated one guy; the farthest we’d gone was some under the shirt gropage and his mouth on my nipples. And here I was, making out in a bed with a guy who I wasn’t dating or even really close with, and now he had his hands under my shirt.

I told him I felt uncomfortable, and he slowed down for a second, but then moments later, both hands were under my shirt, grabbing my nipples and breasts. I froze for a bit, stopped kissing him, but he didn’t notice, and he dragged my shirt over my head. I was in my PJs, so just a black v-neck shirt and sweatpants. I remember he remarked something about “no bra, eh? What does that say about you?” I was still frozen, not there with my body. It was so odd…I couldn’t move to leave, because, as silly as this may sound, I was afraid of losing his “friendship” and didn’t want to be thought of as prude.

Then he lay back, and took off his shirt, and put my hand at the waist band of his sweatpants. He didn’t have anything on underneath. I told him him I wasn’t ok with this, but he said it was no big deal and I’d be fine. I didn’t know what to do; I had liked him for months and months, and here was my chance…but I was hating myself every second for not bolting. I felt nauseous and queasy, and still, I stayed.

He took his pants off, and put my hand on his penis. It was the first time I’d ever seen an erect one in my life. I couldn’t believe it was soft and hard at the same time, and for a second, I forgot about being scared. It was so interesting. And big. Later on, I estimated it was about 9 inches…which is fairly large, especially for the first one I’d seen. I even asked him if that was average, and told him it was very intimidating and I was a bit terrified. He told me it was bigger than average, and I remember letting out a breath of air and saying “thank goodness.” He laughed it me, and then put his hand over mine, and started stroking. I pulled my hand away, telling him I wasn’t ready for this. He said that a hand job was no big deal, and pulled my hand back. He started stroking again.

I was ok with kissing. I wanted to go back to just kissing. Or bolt out of there, but I didn’t want him and the world to think I wasn’t a “normal” college student, wanting to have sex here and there and every where. He told me he was a virgin, but that this wasn’t anything, and it was time I made a better use of my lips than talking and kissing. He put his hand on the back of my head, and guided it to the head of his penis.

Yes, I could have bitten him. Yes, I could have pushed him off and ran. But I was 17 and scared, and thought that maybe this was how college relationships went. I thought that if I did this, maybe he’d like me, maybe we could date, maybe it would be more than just sarcasm and Smashing Pumpkins. So I stayed.

I started to give my first blow job, not knowing a thing about what I was doing. He kept his hands on the back of my head, pushing me down, telling me what to do. I shook him off a few times, telling him I wasn’t ok with this, that I felt uncomfortable. I had tears in my eyes, and a giant lump in my throat. He told me that since I has started all this, I had to finish, that I couldn’t just leave. I didn’t know what to do, so I figured if I just kept going, he’d finish, and I could leave.

I kept going, his hands pressing on the back of my head…it seemed like hours, but it couldn’t have been more than 45 minutes. He told me he didn’t think he would be able to come, and that it was good enough, and I should go. To have a good night, that he’d take care of himself.

I left, went back to my own room (no roommate yet), and cried. And cried. And cried. I felt violated, I felt as though I’d never be ok again. I curled up into a ball, an cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I started my next class; Human Sexual Behavior. Every mention of penis, oral sex, sex, etc, grated on my nerves. I kept thinking back to the night before, reliving every second, thinking about what I should have done right, how it was my fault, how I should have left, how I should have run, how I should have hit him, how this, how that.

Later, in the afternoon, I called one of my best friends in tears. We talked for a while. Then I sat and spoke with my other best friend. We talked a while too. It helped, but I was desolate for a few weeks. I’d see him in the cafeteria, I’d see him walking in the halls to class, I’d see him out at parties, and worst of all, I’d see him in my dorm. Everytime I saw him, the guilt would start up again; it was my fault I felt this way, if only this, if only that.

It took me months to really get back to my normal life. I hooked up with a prospie (prospective student), and he helped. He didn’t want anything from me; he just wanted to make out, and go down on me (in a study lounge to boot!). Then I had my first college boyfriend, and we took it a bit slower.

Since then, I’ve always gotten nervous going down on people; regardless of their anatomy. While I’m ok with a bit of a neck massage, or hands playing with my hair, I totally freeze if there is any pushing on the back of my head. I try to tell my partners about this first, to make things a bit less complicated…I don’t want to flip out during the middle of sex.

I didn’t share my story at Take Back the Night that year. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t even ready to march or to go to open mic night. My sophomore year, I went to Bitch and Animal who played, and then I went to the open mic, and shared my story with everyone for the first time. By then, I was part of the on-campus sexual assault hotline, and sexual assault prevention group. They were the only ones who had heard my story at our retreat…them, and my two best friends. Suddenly, over 100 people knew. Some of his friends were there…they just didn’t know I was talking about him. I was in Germany for TBtN my junior year, but senior year, I was ready to go all out. I was on the planning committee, I made a t-shirt for the clothesline project, I heard Alix Olson perform, I went on the march, I handed out candles, and I spoke up again at the open mic. It had taken me much time to heal, and even more to move on, but then I realized, that it is only when survivors speak out, that people realize what is happening.

My ex from my senior year of college, when I told him my story, told me that it wasn’t *really* sexual assault, but just an unfortunate misunderstanding. This was the same guy who told me rape is only from strangers, and domestic violence is only physical, never mental or emotional. Clearly, I cut him out of my life pretty fucking quickly. It was then a question I ask potential partners; what are your views on sexual violence and preventing it?

Some people I’ve talked to blame me; it was my fault for not leaving, that it’s not assault because he didn’t hold me to the bed and fuck me. I tell them I felt that way for the first few months, until I realized I had said no, and told him I wasn’t ok, and I wasn’t ready, and to stop…and he laughed, told me I was too innocent, and to get over it and just do it. He told me I couldn’t stop. He had his hands on my head. He was in frat, and could have told the campus about me. He was holding our supposed “friendship” over my head (literally and figuratively) until I blew him. HE made me do it, HE made me feel like crap for a long time, HE fucked up how I act in sexual situations, and HE is responsible. I am a survivor, and I should not be filled with guilt.

Sexual assault doesn’t have a pecking order. My experience isn’t any less that someone who was forced to have intercourse physically against his or her will, and it’s not any more than someone who has their partner do something that they don’t want to do, or someone who has to hear sexual comments every day at work. We’re all in the same boat. It’s a different experience for everyone; I do not claim to know anyone else’s hurt, their anger, their pain. But I do know that they feel it, and that everytime someone expresses disbelief (“but he’s your husband” “but she’s married!” “but I know him, he’d never do that” “but you were drunk and slutty and asking for it”), it rips yet another hole on the inside of that person.

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. Share your story; make your voice heard, and support your friends and family. The best thing you can do for a survivor is believe them and listen to their story. Sexual assault can happen to anyone, and in a variety of ways. Don’t make assumptions about anyone, or their history. And if your partner is a survivor, please, tell them it’s ok to go slow, to talk about things, to not do certain things. Let them know you’re there for them, and that you will do everything possible to make them feel safe.

No one can ever erase our pasts; they are there to stay, whether we ignore them, embrace them, or feel guilt over them. However, we CAN change our future. Spread the word about prevention. Learn your local laws. Volunteer for local hotlines and shelters. Donate to RAINN. Listen. Talk to your friends; let them know what assault is, and how to not be a perpetrator or survivor. Support people. Speak out.

This experience changed my life…and while I would never want to relive it, it certainly change the direction of my life for the better. I don’t know if I would have spent 3 years running the sexual assault response hotline, I don’t know if I would have decided to go to grad school for Human Sexuality Education, I don’t know if I would have been able to speak up and speak out about sex, both in the real world, and on my blog. Things change us, but they do not break us. We will survive, and we will persevere.

To all the survivors; my thoughts are with you.

-Essin’ Em

I’ve decided to write a series of articles, both for here and for Good Vibrations. It’s going to be called Sex 411: The Sex Ed You Never Got in School. It’s going to be informative, interesting and amusing, and it’s going to cover things that I (and hopefully you) deem important things about sex/sexuality/etc that you never got in your middle school/high school/college sexuality education classes. I already know some topics I’m planning on writing about, but I’d love to hear from you, from your friends, your partners, your kids, etc, about subjects that warrant discussion.

Here are some ideas I’m already planning on writing about:

*Lube; different types, when to use it, ingredient allergies, social perceptions

*Safer sex; how can we make barriers less icky and more sexy, since no one REALLY loves a condom/dam

*Period sex; pros/cons, how to do it safely, talking about it, etc

*How to talk with your partner about relationships styles (mono, poly, partner but playing, etc)

*How to come out as kinky

*First timers; how to deal with fears, concerns, etc, and figure out the right time

*Toys; introducing them, figuring out what works for you without blowing the budget

*Post sex activities; clean up, peeing (no UTIs), etc

*When you DO have an STI: people DO get them — how do you tell current, future and/or past partners

*Casual sex; how to have it while making it as safe and fun as possible

*Role playing: Types, discussions, etc

*Sex with/as a survivor; how to provide/ask for support, resources, etc

Any other ideas?  I’d love to hear them, and hopefully write about them.  Please comment here, unless you’d like to be more anonymous and send me an email at essinem at GMAIL dot com.  Either way, please, let me know topics you wish you’d learned in sex ed in your school(s), or from your parents, etc. If you can re-post, re-tweet, etc, and let people know about this, I’d really appreciate it!

Thanks!

-Essin’ Em

This is an issue.

A huge one.

Domestic violence, and relationship violence, and sexual violence, and all of that? Huge issue, period. Regardless of who is involved. It affects EVERYONE, whether you’re a victim/survivor, someone who knows people involved, family, friends, counselors, etc.  Everyone is part of this.

We have a lot of problems talking about DV/RV and getting everyone to realize that it IS a problem affecting everyone. Our concepts of it are that men abuse women. Physically, mentally, emotionally, with threats.  This is all violence. It’s hard to help people understand that abuse is more than just hitting, yet most people “get it” eventually.

But what happens when it is a woman abusing a man? Suddenly, everyone is skeptical.  Women abusing men? But how?!? Teh men are all so big and scary and…what? Are they going to hit them back and become violent themselves? Are they going to hurt their partners just to get out of it? Why can’t we see women as abusive? Because let me tell you, they definitely can be.

And if people have a hard enough time understanding that women can abuse men, it gets even more complicated in the queer community. Can women abuse women? And men abuse men? Moreover, does it matter on gender presentation?

I have a friend. Actually, the first dyke I had sex with. Who now identifies as either a stone butch or a transguy – we haven’t talked too much as of late. Anyway, this amazing person is a victim of relationship violence at the hands of their Femme partner.  And very few people can fathom this.

Because if women are abusing women, it MUST be the more masculine presenting person doing the abuse, right?

Bull fucking shit.

Anyone can abuse anyone, regardless of relationship type, gender presentation, sex, age, etc. Abuse is abuse, anyway it happens.

It is fucking hard to report abuse, to ask for help, period. It is even harder to leave. Depending on whose statistics you read, it can take 7-12 times of trying to leave your partner before you can actually do it without going back. Ridiculously hard to do, for a variety of reasons.

Now imagine trying to ask for help, to get support, when you are in the minority.  When you’re queer, or gay, or lesbian, or in a poly family, or a butch being abused by a femme. Imagine how much harder it is.

I’ve looked for resources, because I wanted to share.  In Colorado, we have the Colorado Anti-Violence Program, which has a hotline, but it’s generally geared towards violence against queer people by non-queer people.  I’ve talked to generic DV/RV hotlines, and they say anyone is welcome to call…but having talked with a few of their workers, I can see how hard it would be to be queer and call in.

So folks, I put this to you.  This is a problem in our community. It is.  How do we provide help, support, resources and more? Are the numbers and organizations I don’t know about? Post them here, please share them. Do you have ideas to help make this cause more known, and/or take the stigma away? Please, speak up.

To all victims/survivors of abuse, regardless of gender or orientation, please know I support you. In any way I can. My heart goes out to you…and hopefully, we, as a community, are on our way to creating a better support system for you and your loved ones.

That is all.

Essin’ Em

I was just realizing that there hasn’t been nearly as much posting this year about April being Sexual Assault Awareness Month.  So I thought I’d just mention something before my least favorite month of the year draws to a close.

Some one you know is a survivor. Likely, many people.  You might not know that they are, but statistically, it’s pretty impossible to not know even one.  Depending on the study you read, 1 in 4 college women are survivors, and 1 in 17 men.

Here is one of the largest and best resources for survivors:

Rape, Abuse and Incest National Network.

There are tons and tons of local places; hot lines, shelters, organizations, hospitals, etc. Ask around, google, call RAINN, write me and I’ll figure one for you. You are NOT alone. Your friends, family, and loved ones are NOT alone. There is support there, regardless of your age, sex, gender, orientation, who assaulted you, when and where the assault occurred, etc.  You are never alone.

Here are my posts in the sexual assault category, and here is the story of my sexual assault.  Don’t feel the need to read any of them, but sometimes reading about others stories, and support, it will inspire you in a variety of ways.

Also…

Alix Olson is one of my favorite poets/spoken-word performers, and I was lucky enough to hear her perform at Take Back the Night at Colorado College in 2006. All of her words and lyrics are incredibly inspiring for a variety of reasons. I’d like to share some with you.

Warriors

The paper called me a warrior.
a bad girl. a bad example.
The paper said I smile big,
but I curse too much.
and it’s true. I do
Feel like a warrior just for making it through the day, sometimes
I feel like a fighter. Cause I fight
to keep the fighting away and, sometimes,
Walking down the street is a scientific experiment.
your body laid out, splayed out, just for them
to tamper with it.
But you know, I think it’s those with the scalpels
who are really the rats
They want to dissect your ass cause your brain won’t hold still for them
Under that slide marked:
‘split and fill with bullshit’.
Y’know, my ass don’t fit under that glass
And my brain moves way too fast for that.
Cause if this is a movement we’re making,
we have got to get moving
In this crazy maze we’ve been handed, we’ve got to quit losing ourselves.
We gotta use our big fat mouths to talk,
We gotta use our big thick thighs to walk.
We got to follow those who choose
a different way to knock,
Those who banged with persistence
like the Audre Lordes, the Barbara Lees,
the Leslie Feinbergs, the June Jordans of my existence,
Who chose a different way to walk,
took a chance, didn’t prance, tiptoe,
twirl though this world.
You see, I refuse to slide past
Even if it means coming in last.
I’m gonna stomp and rage and kick,

talk hard, think thick,
Y’know, it don’t take a dick to have balls,
it don’t take balls to knock down the walls
Of this cheap joint.
You know, the point’s hard to find with all these
ground down passions.
But we’ve got a chance if we sharpen our visions
with our voices.
It’s a choice to make noise, it’s hard to be heard
They’ll toss you a muzzle wherever you go.
But baby, it’s the waves that let you know
the ocean’s alive.
So, we’ve gotta go deep.
Down past where your daddy found your key,
unlocked your knees
And took control
Past where your brother cruised your borders
like some kind of nightguard patrol,
Past where the babysitter stuck a pencil up inside you.
So many ways they get you to hide you
From the world, girl,
We gotta go deep
We gotta use our black and blues like a second skin,
Let our bruises thicken,
Then begin again.
We gotta get up when we’re pushed to the ground,
They aint gonna hear us if we’re screaming face down.
We gotta rise to double the size of our sound.
You know warriors are better
the second time around.

So the other day, I was actually signed onto AIM, shocking us all. I was ALWAYS on in through most of high school, and had it on CONSTANTLY (with creative away messages when I was AFK – away from the computer, in college).  I had friends all over the world, and AIM was the easiest and cheapest way to talk to them, all the time. As I hit grad school, I had less and less free time (working full time, part time and going to grad school full time…then add roller derby in there), so I wasn’t on that often. Nowdays, I mostly use g-chat through gmail, although I occasionally sign on to AIM if I want to talk to a specific friend.

The other day, I’d left AIM on.  I got an IM from someone whose screen name I didn’t recognize, so I began the conversation. Turns out it was him.  The guy that sexually assaulted me.  Turns out he lives in Denver now…actually, about five minutes away from me.  Don’t know what I’m talking about? Read “Sexual Assault, My Story.”

At first, I was just shocked that he was talking to me. I can’t remember the last time he tried to IM me.  Sophomore year maybe?  I remember I saw him this year at homecoming, and just froze. He didn’t recognize me.  I’m a little taller now, I had red hair at the time, and I have a fuck ton more self-confidence than I had at all in college, especially my first year.  But now he was talking to me, telling me he lived near me. It took me a second to figure out what was even going on.

I think he’s one of the guys that doesn’t realize what he did, what happened, how much he has affected my life.  There was a video we watched once in college, and this guy talked about how he’d gotten a girl really drunk, how he’d taken her to the special room his frat had for taking drunken and drugged girls, and how he held her down with his arm across her chest as she tried to get away, and how he fucked her. He doesn’t consider himself someone who has ever perpetrated sexual assault. Some guys just don’t get it.  I don’t think this one does.

I signed off. And called Q. I didn’t know who else to talk to.  F hadn’t been very supportive when I told her about seeing him at homecoming. My best friend was asleep. I needed someone.

At first, I was non-chalant.  ”Sorry, I know you’re busy. I didn’t want to bother you. I just was kind of, upset. But I’m fine now.” And then, I started talking. I’d never told her my story…in fact, at our Vagina Retreat, I’d realized that she was the first person I hadn’t told about my assault before we had sex. I thought that was a good sign, that I was healing more, moving on. But here I was, pouring out my heart to her. Less than 4 days after our “not looking to be girlfriends, but let’s be friends who fuck” talk. I sat there, tell her, through my tear (oh yes, he can still make me cry) how I was terrified I’d run into him at the store, or I’d be in the park and then he’d be there, and what would I do? Calmly, she told me I’d turn and walk away. That I could do that. I cried more, explaining that I was so angry there was nothing I could do now. I hadn’t reported him when I was 17…I didn’t know I could, and it took me a while to even realize what it was. I couldn’t report him, I couldn’t hurt him, I couldn’t do anything. I had no control, and that scared me. I don’t like having no control. I was angry, and hurt, and felt like he had just regained power over me, as now I was nervous about going to the store.  We talked for a while. And I felt a little better. I told her part of my story, and about the guilt I felt, how it was my fault for entering the situation, and my fault for not leaving.  She didn’t tell me it wasn’t – she just listened.

This is now six years later. More than that, actually.  And still, this intense reaction, these emotions pouring out of me. This fear, this anger, this hurt.  Right in the middle of the Vagina Monologues, of all times.

It goes to show that it never goes away. It never heals. You can be a survivor, at veteran of sexual violence, but it never ends. It runs through you, affecting you, sometimes without you even realizing.

So this is me, speaking up, speaking out…yet again. Sexual violence is not just creepers in the bushes. It is not just abusive husbands. It is not just a product of war. It is HERE. It is people you know, people you love.  It isn’t then, it is now. It it always. So support your friends, your family, your loved ones, and work to stop to violence.

-Essin’ Em

I love vaginas. I love women. I do not see them as separate things. Women pay me to dominate them, to excite them, to make them come.

Sound like something I’d say? It will be.  It’s from the piece I’ll be doing in the Vagina Monologues, entitled The Woman Who Loved To Make Vaginas Happy (so fitting).

I’ve been involved in the Vagina Monologues before…three times before.  I will be involved in them again, as many times as I possibly can.  The Vagina Monologues are part of the V-Day Campaign.

What is the V-Day Campaign? The V-Day Campaign is a catalyst for mobilizing women and men to heighten awareness about violence against women and girls. By creating this global community, V-Day strives to empower women to find their collective voices and demand an end to the violence that affects one in three women in the U.S and around the world.

I am involved in this not because I am a theater nerd, and feel the call of the stage. I am involved in this not because I’m excited to moan and orgasm in front of tons of people.

I am involved in this because every day, there is violence perpetrated against women and girls. In Colorado, in the US, all over the word. Against cisgender women, against transwomen, against children.  Some of the violence is obvious; it’s physical violence, it’s genocide, it’s rape.  Some of the violence is less obvious; it’s girls not having the same educational opportunities, it’s the pay gap between what women get paid and what men get paid, it’s the sexism perpetuated against women in offices, schools, sporting events, etc.  I will do my absolute best to continue to be involved in this until the violence stops.  And if it never does, neither will I.

Please come hear the stories of women, of girls, of vaginas. Come Reclaim Cunt with us, come cry tears with us, come laugh out loud with up. Come support women. Come.

That’s all.

The Vagina Monologues will be playing in Boulder, Colorado on February 27th and 28th at the St. Julian Hotel, 900 Walnut Street, and March 10th at Boulder Theater, 2032 14th Street. All three shows are at 8pm.  To purchase tickets for the February shows, order them here. To get tickets for the March show, visit the Boulder Theatre. I hope to see you and your friends there.

-Essin’ Em