A Victim Mentality Destroys Your Power

Choose Your Path

To be a victim is disempowering in the absolute sense – there is no opportunity for healing there. I have been raped but I will not refer to myself as a victim. In my search for healing I’ve concluded that there can be no such a thing as a victim, for if there is, healing would be impossible; it would depend on what others do, and that is something I have no control over. The best I could do is attempt to influence, and hope for the best, and this is emotionally draining and frustrating at best.

The victim mentally is a pervasive and disabling part of our culture. It is woven into the way we speak to each other, into our language, when we say “you make me so…” or “he makes me feel…” or “she made me…” Whether the feeling is positive or negative is irrelevant, when we believe others have the magical ability to make us feel something, we believe ourselves to be a victim. But how can I say that in the awful scenario or rape, for instance, that the person raped is not a victim?

Let’s be clear, a person who is raped has had a horrible thing done to them, but no one can control how they will react to and feel about the rape. In the climate of a victim mentality culture, however, most people who have been raped expect that others should do or say something to make healing possible for them. Feeling retraumatized and revictimized by the reactions of others is common. Many people who have been raped report that the reaction of the community, that often protects or apologizes for the rapist, was just as, if not more traumatic then the actual rape itself. I can attest to this since this has been my experience. I was expecting my friends, family, and community to rally around me, and instead I was met skepticism, silence, and even anger. In order to heal, it has become blatantly apparent to me that I cannot rely on others, and I cannot wait for them to “come around” to my point of view. I have allowed myself to be “revictimized” because I felt powerless, because I felt like a victim, because I believed that others have the power to give me my health and happiness or take it away.

A victim is by definition powerless. A victim has no control, and is at the mercy of others. I am convinced that even if a person forces another to submit to them physically, power – true power – has nothing to do with a physical offence. Only the perpetrator’s fear, self-hatred, and feelings of powerlessness can inspire such acts in an effort to regain the lost sense of power. Again, it is magical thinking at work when the perpetrator believes that power can really be taken or exchanged between individuals. If your friend felt powerless could you offer to give him some of your power by choice if he insisted he was hopeless? Could you choose for him? No.

Understand that the definition of power I am referring to has nothing to do with money, or politics, or hierarchy. That has to do with material control. I’m talking about another person’s ability or inability to control your internal state of being, of feeling, of thinking. It cannot be done! Only YOU have the power to control your inner state and that is the only true power that anyone can ever have. All other “power” is an illusion, but the illusion undoubtedly looks very real simply because so many of us buy into the belief that we can be made to feel like a victim by someone else.

I know all this and yet the victim mentality is still the default explanation my mind resorts to whenever I feel imposed upon by others or by situations. It is like a software program that runs in my brain, and healing is going to require my full attention and a commitment to changing the false belief that others can “make” me feel anything at all. Even in the positive instance, for example, when I feel swept off my feet by a lover, I must recognize that the feeling comes from me, and not from them. Another might not feel such lust or love toward that person as I do, therefore my feelings comes from me and only me, and have nothing to do with the inherent qualities of that person.

To heal I must change my fundamental beliefs I have about the world and myself, I must see things through new eyes. What it really comes down to is destroying my belief in a lack of free will, my belief in thought control, for when I acknowledge my real power I see that no one can control my thoughts. In fact, to believe such a thing is in the interest of those who wish to “take power” away from me. It is to their benefit that I believe I have no control over my emotional reactions to them, that I fear them and fear how they can “make” me feel.

Once again I must be aware of the flip side of the coin here. If I allow myself to have the belief that others can take my power away, then I must also believe that they can give it back to me in a gesture of “helping.” The only real help others can give is to show me how to help myself, to inspire me to be the change I want to see. But the belief that another can simply give me power, that I can simply buy my healing from a therapist or a pharmacy, is nothing but a illusion, and indeed it is “giving away” my power to another. This is dangerous, for it even allows for self-interested corruption to function under the guise of helping. There is nothing wrong with seeing a therapist, as long as I am not expecting them to “heal me,” but instead expecting them to partner with me and show me the work I must do for myself. In terms of taking pharmaceutical drugs, I can’t see any potential for healing, only numbing.

The expectation that others need to do something differently or change in order for me to heal or be happy will forever be unfruitful. No one is going to give me anything, even if they wanted to they cannot. Even the truly benevolent do not have any power to help me, just as the truly evil do not have any power to hurt me. It is a choice, and I must defend against my false belief in either sense and take my healing into my own hands. I must work with others who inspire me to find that truth again and again, others who know this and practice it in their own lives. When I take stock, it’s true that the only time I’ve ever experienced any real healing is when I took responsibility for my own health and happiness. Others can point toward the path, but I must walk it myself.

~ “Destiny is no matter of chance. It is a matter of choice. It is not a thing to be waited for, it is a thing to be achieved.” – William Jennings Bryan


I Fear I’ve Killed My Father

"I Fear I've Killed My Father"

Have I got anything left to say to you, father? I’ve had so much to say during my life and yet I only spoke most of it aloud to myself in those long nights of sobbing alone and wondering if it was possible to cry out all the tears I have for you. I’ve cried so many tears, and yet tonight there are just as many as there has been before. So what is it I haven’t said?

That I love you.

It’s why it hurts me so much, you see. Because you’re my father and I’ve wanted to believe this whole time that you actually gave a shit about me. I made myself the bad one so you could be good in my eyes. I made myself the reason you were so sick and unhappy. I thought I could influence your life and save you from yourself. And now I fear I could influence your death too. If my mother leaves you, I fear you’ll surely die. And who then will pick up your corpse and honour it? What will become of you?

It took me so many years to finally face this pain you inflicted on me because I thought you were too weak and fragile – and if you die it will show me I was right. All I ever wanted was for you to be happy and love yourself. I can see that was unrealistic. But my heart is breaking for you, for us, for what we could have had if you were capable of making better decisions.

But those years are gone and I’m no longer that child who trusted you. I’m now a weary-eyed woman trying to pick up the pieces of my shattered illusions. You used me like a toy doll for your own amusement. You eyed me up and down and made comments about my body and my breasts and told me I look just like my mother. You never protected me from your creepy friends, but instead you joined in when they harassed me. You took advantage of my trust in you and made my existence a dead plastic servant of your whims. And I still loved you because you were my dad.

Maybe my pain is not for you, but is for a broken dream that there still exists some salvation for us. That somehow I might still learn how much you really love me. But I see now you don’t understand love. Maybe you were never loved in your whole life except by your innocent children who you took advantage of, who you abused in every way possible.

But my heart still breaks for this sad demise of our family. No matter how fucked up things got you are still my family, but you put me in a position where I either have to choose my family or myself, because it seems I can’t have both. I’ve wanted nothing more than for my mother to choose me over you, but if she does, I fear you’ll die. Who will honour your small decrepit corpse if she leaves you? It’s like your tricky revenge on me for “ruining your life” as you put it. You would have rather I suffered until the end of my days too so that you could go on living in denial. I never wanted to ruin anyone’s life, I just wanted what anyone wants, to be loved and be happy.

I wanted you to love me, and if you die, so dies my dream for that love. It’s always just been an illusion anyway. I know that. And I accept that you did the best you could, as horrible as it was. I’m so sorry you spent your whole life running from yourself. I miss those moments as a small child when I had no concept yet that you were capable of such awful things. My daddy, just my wonderful daddy who loves me.


Dear Men, I Honor My Femaleness

"I Honor My Womanness"

Dear Men,

The last thing I want is for you to think I am weak, because in our culture weakness is punished and belittled. But I am a woman, and we’ve been taught that femininity is weak, so if I want respect I am backed into this damned corner every time I see you. I can see from your words and your actions that you don’t really believe women are worthy of respect either. The problem is that I believed you were right.

If I believe I am weak there’s no telling what you’ll do to me, how you’ll underestimate me, how you’ll take advantage of me, how you’ll use your strength against me, how you’ll take from me. I’ve been living my life afraid of all this since I was a little girl, who watched her father rage and yell and belittle women. I thought the only way he could love me is if I abandoned myself, abandoned my femaleness, because I could see how he despised it, how he mocked it, how he used it and threw it away.

I’ve been hit and raped and spat on, shoved and screamed at, peeped on, and creeped on and I’m just waiting for you to challenge me any time I feel afraid, daring you even with a piercing stare because I have so much anger about all this that it doesn’t matter anymore what you do to me: The fear makes me want to fight, makes me want to hurt you back as badly as I can. And I’m ready whenever you make your move. I’ve seen enough of your tricks to know what to do. And you are most hurt when equated with a woman, when people think you’re a sissy pussy bitch and so I feel my fear is justified. You hate your own femaleness too.

I’ve been hurt by men so much that I’m scared I could be hurt by you, even though I don’t know you. I am afraid of you. I get crafty and wear a mask. I take on masculine traits like aggression, dominance, and muted emotion, and I wear them like a costume whenever I’m in your presence. It’s so automatic I don’t even have to think about it, it just pours forth from the anger I feel, that I can’t just exist, can’t just be myself, can’t just be a woman, without fearing the risk of harm from you. So I stand guard, but I don’t even know you. But you are a man, and so I fear you.

If you could see me when I’m alone, you’d see that I am soft and yielding and loving. I smile and laugh and feel at ease with myself. I take off my costume. But the still fear remains in the back of my mind, and the fear is the only thing separating us from the truth. It’s not you I need to annihilate, it’s the fear. When I live in constant fear of you, I forget who I am completely, and I justify and agree with your misogynistic words, thoughts, and deeds, because I too have become misogynistic by dishonoring myself. I have become my enemy to try and protect myself from enemies, but I see now that you can’t honor me until I honor myself. It’s not your decision to say what I am worth, and it never was. We were both just so confused. Thanks for listening.

Love Courtenay


I Didn’t Know I Was A Piece of Plastic

"Mannequin"

I’ve realized that I have just been paid lip service all my life. I’ve been told how “equal” I am so many times that I just never questioned it, even when contrary information was staring me in the face. When Snoop Dogg said “We don’t love them hos,” I was pretty sure he wasn’t talking about me. After all, my grade four teacher told me that men and women were equal, and that the women’s rights movement had prevailed and that I could be and do whatever it is I wanted when I grew up. I believed it, in spite of all the evidence to the contrary. Snoop was obviously referring to those girls over there, not me.

It took being raped – treated like a commoditized object – for me to really see that, in our supposedly enlightened culture, to some men, most certainly to this man who premeditatively raped me, that I am just a piece of plastic. What right did I have as a woman to trust that this guy wouldn’t choose to knock me unconscious and rape me? Apparently none. Perhaps to him I am the evil temptress upon whom he can place all the blame for his actions, so he might be free to flail around in life, hurting people “uncontrollably,” and always being able to say “she made me.

He was taught that he has a right to my body, which he could easily possess with a little social manipulation and rohypnol, to bend it and break it like a plastic Barbie doll, to use it and abuse it and then throw it away when he’s done. He may have even hi-fived his friends the next day and talked about how “good he hit it,” how good it was for him to have sex with a limp, unconscious body. I’ll bet it made him feel powerful. I feel sorry for him. I doubt I was the first woman he’s raped.

And well meaning people still ask me what I was wearing when it happened.

~ “He did not care upon what terms he satisfied his passion. He had even a mad, melodramatic idea to drug her.” – W. Somerset Maugham


Dear Men, I’m Sorry I Faked Those Orgasms

"Fake Orgasm"

Dear Men,

If only you knew the lengths I go to to protect you from your own feelings of unworthiness and inadequacy. I know you want so much to be what you think a “real man” is, and I can see your pain and I can feel your fragility when you fail to reach this ridiculous ideal society has put on you. You think you’re fooling me, and I play along because I know my honesty would wound you. If only you knew that I actually accept you just as you are, and that I admire you in those moments you show vulnerability. Vulnerability is not the same as weakness. To me, weakness is when I see you disown your true self in exchange for stereotypical “maleness.” It provokes feelings of pity for you, and I know that pity is the last thing you want. To be vulnerable is to be honest and open, and it is always beautiful and worthy of respect. I know that you’d rather I be honest and have respect for you.

I’m sorry I thought I had to protect you from your feelings. I’m sorry I faked those orgasms to make you feel like the “real man” you wanted to be. I’m sorry I never corrected your false belief that my orgasm comes from you and not from me. I’m sorry I didn’t correct you when you tried to act out a porno you saw on the Internet with me, where the woman was acting and faking her orgasm, and you thought that’s what you had to do to please a woman. I’m sorry I didn’t remind you that porn is fake sex, and is not a good source of information on what I enjoy doing sexually. I know you were just trying to be a “real man,” and I thought you were too fragile to handle the truth. I’m sorry for underestimating you. It’s partly my fault you’re so misinformed. I’m making the commitment today to be more honest with you, and I apologize for assuming you were too weak to handle the truth. I know you’re stronger than that.

Love,

Courtenay


Dear Men, My Femininity Isn’t About You

"Femininity Is Fun"

Dear Men,

That sexy dress I wore in public wasn’t for you. It was for me. Because I enjoy being a woman and expressing my femininity. In choosing to wear that dress, you were not in my thoughts. I did not decide to wear it because I thought you might like it. I wore it because I like it. Do not share your uninvited opinion on how my looks are pleasing to you. Not only do I not care if they please you, but it’s both rude and arrogant to assume that I would. You are assuming that my self-expression in my choice of clothing has something to do with you, and it doesn’t. You think it’s a compliment to tell me that I am pleasing to you because you are making the wrong assumption that I get dressed in the morning hoping to please you. See how that works? Admire and appreciate if you like, but please save your “compliments” for women who have actually chosen to date you. See? It’s that easy to trade creepy for classy.

Thanks,

Courtenay


Why Men Rape: Part II

"Father and Child"

This has been a difficult post for me to write. I intended to have it written a couple days ago, but I find myself in repeated resistance. Every time I write a few lines, I invariably find a distraction. This is a subject of immense interest to me in my quest to understand why I was sexually abused by my father, but for the same reason I find it a bit hard to stomach. I hope this is helpful for others on the same quest or for those who are simply trying to understand the question of “Why?”

This post is meant to clarify the reasons why men sexually abuse children. It is a continuation of Part I which discusses drug-assisted rape. The title, “Why Men Rape,” is appropriate when discussing child sexual abuse because rape was part of my experience of being sexually abused as a child, and also because I find it hard to call the involvement of a child in adult sexual activity anything but nonconsensual. The short answer to “why” is… because offenders made the choice to offend, albeit with a compelling feeling to do so. I wish to explore the common pattern for how men come to make that choice.

My main source of information has been a book by Douglas W. Pryor, titled Unspeakable Acts: Why Men Sexually Abuse Children. Pryor conducted a pioneering study of thirty convicted sex offenders, and gathered data on the thoughts, experiences, and behaviours of these men. It is the first in-depth, qualitative, and narrative-based study of its kind.

As was already established in my post on rape culture, the characteristics of the average child molester are virtually indistinguishable from those of the average man. The way they walk, the way they talk, they way they seduce, the way they objectify and sexualize others. However, one factor appears to influence which men choose to sexually abuse children – and that is experiencing sexual abuse in their own childhood but not understanding it as such.

This can mean having fond memories of being sexually abused, and framing that abuse as affectionate and/or erotic rather than traumatic. Offenders who did experience the sexual abuse of their childhood as “unsettling and confusing,” were typically blamed by parents or other nonoffending adults and made to feel responsible for the abuse, or they were simply ignored and given the impression that it wasn’t that big a deal. In any case, the perpetrator was not understood to be an abuser per se, and the victim was given no feedback to suggest that there was anything wrong with what the perpetrator was doing to them, and that is was their fault it was happening.

The larger cultural context of silence and secrecy around taboo subjects like incest and sexual abuse also do nothing to curb the young victim’s blurred sense of acceptable boundaries, sexual respect, and personal physical space with others.

So with their own abuse framed as not having been abuse, these men went forth into the world, and often when they were around children who were the same age as they were when they were abused, they experienced some unexpected sexual feelings arising in them. This was generally precipitated by a cluster of negative life experiences, which occurred in mostly random combinations, although there were only six general themes that those interviewed experienced: feeling trapped, sexual problems and boredom, loss of male authority, engulfment in masturbation and porn, major emotional shocks, and feelings of sexual inadequacy.

The men chose to cope with these challenges by feeling unhappy and disconnecting emotionally, and yet they still strongly desired an outer change in their circumstances. It is my observation that these men feel powerless in their lives and have no sense of being able to change their circumstances, or failing that, to change their own state of being in order to experience their circumstances differently. Many appeared to feel as if they had no choice in the matter of offending and felt that their urges were simply “uncontrollable,” and thus found ways to justify their actions so that they could live with themselves.

The moment of shifting in adulthood from being a nonoffender to an offender was clearly demarcated in the memory of nearly all thirty of the convicted sex offenders. They could pinpoint the specific moment and circumstances in which they made their “shift.” The fact that this is remembered so clearly indeed shows that the men were aware that they were making a choice which would take them across a moral boundary, but they could not deny the strong sexual feelings that arose in them, often for a specific child victim.

And this is the critical point of no return: the transition into offending is completed precisely because these men are able to reframe their sexual feelings for a child as acceptable in order to justify their actions, no doubt a remnant from their warped understanding of their own sexual abuse history. As Pryor notes, “without this interpretive bridge, the crimes reported by the men here would not have occurred.”

After making the shift and choosing to offend, multiple methods of approaching and engaging their victim were tested and locked into if compliance resulted. During their career as an offender, the men often felt guilty about their behaviour, but numbed it with busyness, alcohol, TV, etc., and some even projected their guilt onto the victim, lecturing them about their immorality. In every case they found a way to justify their behaviour, often putting the responsibility on the victim to stop the abuse.

It’s like their whole childhood repeating itself! And situations that bring up their pain will persist until these men heal from the abuse inflicted on them in their own childhood. I view their poignant moment of crossing the moral boundary into being an offender as their psyche trying to show them they have a wound to heal. The issues they have from their own childhood abuse are still with them and are literally reflected perfectly in their own reactions to life’s circumstances. Some men even chose child victims who had specific features that reminded them of their own abusers, such as hair colour. It’s really all just a convoluted effort to heal something.

These men put responsibility on the victim to stop the abuse since they were made to feel responsible for their own abuse. Their feelings of powerlessness, perhaps from not being able to control the abuse in their childhoods, led them to feel unable to change their circumstances, to feel like a passive victim of circumstances. This is really important to get. We all have the power to change our state of being if we don’t like the circumstances we’re in, and thus change the way we feel about the circumstances. Sometimes we can simply just change the circumstances, but not always. Still we’re all ultimately capable and powerful. The only thing standing in the way is negative beliefs. These child molesters had no life experiences to illustrate that they had this power, nothing to show them that they could choose to change their belief that they are a passive victim.

Silence and secrecy are what keeps this twisted little circus rolling, and branding offenders as monsters doesn’t help. The depths of my own anger surrounding this issue make it difficult to say what I’m about to say, but it is indeed the true that these men deserve some compassion from society. It is not to excuse, but simply to understand. In fact, it is in the best interest of child victims that we feel some compassion since the ugly stigmatization with which child molesters are branded can leave an offender feeling even more trapped and unable to reach out for help, which only exacerbates the issue and leads to more offences. This Louis C.K. stand up bit has been called a tasteless joke, but he is indeed on to something with his idea that we take it down a notch when it comes to “kid having sex people” because at least then “you get the kid back.”

~ “Every situation properly perceived, becomes an opportunity to heal.” – A Course In Miracles