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Photo by Peter Forster on Unsplash

Out of the Woodwork

“Bullshit. Yet another woman who thinks that believing women is more important than respecting due process and the presumption of innocence.”

This is how threatened men respond to being called out for their bullshit. And this:

“A dog wouldn’t fuck you, you old fat pig ( no offense intended to pigs)”

If there is one gift that Trump has given us, it’s to draw out the shite that lives in our midst. If nothing else, we can see the sewage. The haters, the racists, the men who despise women, and who believe any man’s word over a woman’s. The men who desperately want to control women who speak out, who speak their truth.

The story that drew these ugly responses out of a Medium writer who, for good reason, has almost no followers- is my piece written during the Kavanaugh hearings. Like so very many other women, Ford’s ordeal not only reminded me of my own, but it rang with that awful truth of what happens when we call out our abusers, our tormentors, and the men who support and perpetuate that behavior by viciously invalidating anyone else’s story.

Ford’s account was almost identical to mine. For every woman that I know who was raped decades ago, for whom those experiences continue to inform our lives, our self-worth and our relationships, when she spoke out (and subsequently was vilified for it) she grabbed each and every one of us by the guts, the heart and the vaginas.

And screamed at us to speak. Fucking. Out.

We would also pay a price for airing our truths. I would bet that for every one of us who wrote a similar story, men attacked them as above. The veneer is getting stripped away.

When I wrote about my story on Medium, some good men responded. They spoke up. They were hurt by the actions of so many sewer-dwellers, many more than they realized. They were deeply troubled by the stark reality that the same guys who tee off with them would like to tip over the adolescent daughters. Maybe already had. I wanted to thank them for the courage to break ranks.

It’s horrifying to realize that the people you trust can also be the same people who abuse your friendship. This is how abusers have operated for time immemorial. When your daughter, niece, friend confides in you, you argue that it can’t possibly be true. This guy’s your buddy. Has been for years.

It’s precisely how Larry Nassar got away with so much abuse of America’s finest female gymnasts: mommy and daddy choose to believe this evil POS over their daughter’s truth.

That’s the very commerce they use to abuse. That’s why it’s so hard to drag these cretins out into the light of day.

This man was bitterly angry at me for validating Ford. She had validated me. Millions more just like me. That scared the holy shit out of one hell of a lot of men who for all these years have gotten by with every imaginable offense against women. Of course it did. Still does.

When you threaten the balance of power, when you say no to a baby man, he behaves like a toddler who is losing his play toy.

Sadly this precisely the kind of response I would expect from an abuser who desperately wishes to protect his right to abuse, to maintain the male-centric judicial system that punishes a woman for having tits and a vagina, that cants public opinion against a woman’s experience. A judicial system that assumes guilt first because we are women.

In a country where there are no laws governing men’s bodies, sexual behavior. Hundreds governing women’s.

We live in a country where far too many states sanction child marriage. We live in a country where female genital mutilation is not only practiced but the Federal Government doesn’t possess the balls to enforce a law enacted to protect girls who have no voice.

We live in a country where every minute and a half, someone gets raped. Some 321,000 of us a year. Men, too, but nowhere near as many.

It’s hard to relate to those of us who were raped when you think rape is your God-given right.

In a world where it’s not beyond the realm of possibility that the judge, members of the jury, the male defense attorney, and the police involved in the case have all been abusers in their lifetimes, how the holy fuck are you and I going to change the narrative? When a cretin now creaks the highest bench in the land, with a sordid history of sexual abuse and then lying to Congress about his behavior, his history and his morals, how the holy fuck is there justice, as implied by people like my Medium commenter, above?

Why is Congress so devoid of balls in all this? Want to know? Ask me. Please. I worked as a young lobbyist on the Hill. The stories I can tell about these deviants would scorch your ear hairs. Expect justice from them? Not when they rushed to defend convicted pedophile Dennis Hastert. But he’s one of us, they said.

He most certainly is.

A guy who molested boys as young as fourteen when he was a wrestling coach. A fine example of the men who lead our country. And don’t even get me started on the Pedophile/Rapist-in-Chief.

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Photo by Sydney Sims on Unsplash

When we reclaim our bodies from abusers, attacks are precisely the responses we should expect.

How dare you.

Who do you think you are, anyway?

The Medium writer chose to use sexual and physical language to do as much damage as possible. This is the only way these men can see women: young and fuckable. If I’m not, then I’m useless.

A dog wouldn’t fuck me. Okay, well in the first place I would vastly prefer a dog’s company to men like him. Or horses, or cows, or camels. Time spent in the company of nature’s four-footed creatures is one hell of a lot more fun than that spent in the company of rapists. I have plenty of first-hand experience.

He assumes I want to be fucked. Well, after some of the experiences of men just like him, that’s negotiable indeed. . Being fucked, contrary to the male point of view proffered here, isn’t exactly the pinnacle of human experience. Standing on top of one hell of a gorgeous mountain, riding a fine horse in Egypt trump a lousy fuck any day. That’s in part because most men don’t know how to fuck in the first damned place.

I saved my favorite for last:

“You fat old pig.”

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Fat old pig. Yep. I sure am. Julia Hubbel

Yeppirs.

Isn’t it interesting that Angry White Men choose to use such language to demean women? We aren’t fuckable (that of course is our ONLY redeeming value) and then to say we’re old. Therefore, what use are we? How clearly men telegraph how they really feel about women.

Ann Litts wrote a piece the other day about becoming a Crone, which is a place of supreme honor. When she looked it up, the description was, of course, both physical and unbecoming. Thin old woman. I’ve also seen her described as ugly. My guess? Women didn’t write those descriptions.

You’re damned right I’m old. And unstoppable. And smart. And athletic. And accomplished. And a fine writer. Prize-winning, in fact.

Precisely the things that scare the holy shit out of certain men who have to hide behind a veil of viciousness.

We will not be silenced. We will be heard. And we will no longer be abused by such lowlifes.

This man and his brotherhood are exactly the reason we write. Why we speak out. Why we validate each other’s experiences.

Are all women’s stories factual? Of course not. But in a world where the entire system- unlike what this man argues- is NOT just, is organized to punish a woman for having a vagina, for tempting a man who can’t control his dick, we have to speak up, speak out, and speak our truth.

That’s all from this fat old pig, that a dog wouldn’t fuck.

Written by

Horizon Huntress, prize-winning author, adventure traveler, boundary-pusher, wilder, veteran, aging vibrantly. I own my sh*t. Let’s play!

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