Well, Ima open strong here: Fuck JG. I’m not even going to type out the full name here, because y’all know. You know. I can’t open the interwebs without getting triggered. I’ve tried to blog about this about ten times so far this week. I went on a wee bit of a twitter meltdown, and then went on several more. I just finished attempting to dialogue with a dudbro who was concerned about JG’s healing– who claimed it would “prevent more harm” and “set an example for other abusers”.
Welp, FUCK ABUSERS. FUCK THEM. FUCK THEM AND THEIR HEALING AND THEIR FEEL FEELS AND THEY CAN ROT IN THEIR REMORSE OR WHATEVSIES.
I’m going to keep the next part as brief as possible, because it’s all shaking out because of a recent trigger, which was followed by the trigger to end all triggers which is this fucking story. We are getting all the details of this horrorshow and it keeps getting worse.
I have been loudly out for quite some time as a survivor of Domestic Violence. It was a long time ago. I am a survivor of childhood physical abuse (my sister), and then DV in my first marriage. The abuse during my first marriage was multi-faceted– and it included repeated instances of what I have euphemistically called “non-consensual sex” for a long, long time. I have long been a person who yells at headlines for using this term “That’s rape, motherfucker!” I would yell at those headlines, or type in comments or emails to the editors. About three weeks ago, reacting to a rape joke in a professional setting by having a panic attack meltdown while hiding in a stairwell, the reality of twenty-three years ago came crashing back into my brain.
I am a rape survivor. There it is. I’m not going to shove it into the shadowlands anymore because I’m not ashamed.
And now, in the midst of me just patching myself back into “oh, everything will be okay and I am fine and fuck him, I win because look how awesome my life is! Because, glitter.”– twitter rumours started flying that a major story was going to break. I had heard the rumours about JG through the music community backchannels “he’s a complete creep.” “seriously. stay away.” But that’s all I had ever heard. In the Social Justice community, these dudbros are legion. They stroll into your Women’s Studies class and dude as hard as anyone can dude. “I believe in Eastern philosophy. I’m practically a monk.” (actual quote from a fellow Dr of awesome’s classroom) “I think it’s important that women have a voice in all of the conversations we have, I mean for centuries men have done all of the talking, I mean (blahblahblahetcetcetcadnauseum)” (duddebro who won’t shut up not ever–typical representation). These dudes actually have names in the circles feminists travel in. Brocialists. Manarchists. Brogressives. Assholes. Wait, that last one is a bit more common vernacular, but you get the drift. They come to prey, rather than pray at the bell hooks altar. We all know which ones are just jerks, and which ones are actual abusers and rapists. We. see. them. We talk about them. JG was one of them.
Every article I click on– and I can’t stop clicking– makes me physically ill. The original facebook screed was full of clanging alarm bells. Your professor doesn’t fear the wild side, and if you’ve seen any of the old “Sexytime Saturdays”– there will be an upcoming one on consent in the kink community– you know she is super-duper sex positive. Well, suffice to say, the facebook post of JG was full of “this dude has no fucking idea what BDSM actually is or how to do it.”
I didn’t believe him, immediately didn’t believe him. I believed his accusers– and I shudder to think of how many JG survivors are out there. I believe all of them. I hope he goes down hard, having to pay out millions of dollars in civil courts, and that he never is employable again. I want him to suffer the full impact of the realization that what he did was terrible, and that it wasn’t kink– it was abuse– and it caused harm. I don’t believe in jail, but I don’t want him to ever be able to harm another woman again. Ever. Now that the police are involved, I hope that the Toronto Police Service treats his accusers like fucking gold. PLATINUM PLATED DIAMOND STUDDED GOLD. Because people who report (and I never did) are not treated with the respect and care they deserve in the system. The system sucks, and it’s guilty as hell when it comes to report statistics.
Beloveds, I’ve told you all that to tell you this:
For all the survivors out there that are suffering right now:
You are not alone. WE are legion, and we are fucking heroes.
We come from every background. We live in every neighbourhood. Some of my sisters are way more likely to be victims. There are over 1,000 missing and murdered indigenous women in the country of Canada, and the government has yet to launch a formal investigation. THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS GUILTY AS HELL. Trans women of colour are dying EVERY FUCKING DAY and no one is paying attention. THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS GUILTY AS HELL. Out of every 1,000 sexual assaults, only 3 perpetrators are convicted in the courts. THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS GUILTY AS HELL. The Canadian government just passed bill C-36, endangering sex workers. THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS GUILTY AS HELL.
I have seen women this week, everywhere– on the street, on the subway, in the drugstore– and they look like they’ve been crying. I’m one of them. THE WHOLE DAMN SYSTEM IS GUILTY AS HELL.
So, beloveds, let’s spread some fucking radical hope and some fucking justice. If you’ve got it, maybe throw some money or other items in the direction of a shelter in the GTA: (or if you’re not a local beloved, find some in your area, please and thank you). If you know a survivor, reach the fuck out. Ask if they’re okay. Ask if they need anything. Don’t patronize, but ask.
Also remember this, though: Justice starts with listening to people’s stories. And uttering a simple phrase after people tell their stories (because telling your story is hard, sibs.)
I believe you.
with hugs that include the patting,
Prof LPB, motherfucking survivor.