Category Archives: Thank You

“I wasn’t brave”, and the problem of assumed familiarity from strangers….

I want to focus on two things here; being called “brave” by random strangers who don’t know me, and having those strangers act like they’re entitled to behave as if we are best friends on the basis of a few tweets, or in a comment because they read one essay. Do you want to know how to help me feel more comfortable talking to you? In a way that could help you with talking to some other survivors of abuse you may meet? Then please, read on; and thank you for taking the time to do so. As for comments on this blog, please read the Comment Policy.

To those who have already put in the legwork to help me feel comfortable and to become my friends, huge thanks to you. You help me learn how to grow into a “real person” every day, and I couldn’t make it without you. To my fellow survivors, take from this what resonates with you, feel free to ignore the rest.

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As a survivor of child sexual abuse, I rarely want to be told I am brave/strong/etc. I realize people are trying to be supportive, encouraging, or complimentary, but it usually feels off to me and falls flat, especially from a stranger or somebody who only knows a few things I’ve written about myself. I typically gloss over and ignore the comment, hoping it will go away. This article by Justin Cascio has helped me grasp a better way of realizing why it bothers me, in particular #5, the “brave” section:

10 things people have said to me that you should never say to a trans person

From a stranger, it does objectify, and seems to be an assumed intimacy that repels me. I am not me to them, I am a cardboard poster boy for “all survivors”, or simply an opportunity for them to feel better about themselves. Also, I don’t see being a survivor as “brave”. The phrase “it takes courage to survive that” irritates me. Actually, all it takes is “not dying yet”, each day. I never felt “brave”. In the end, it feels condescending. (Thanks to Justin for this clarity. I really appreciate his blog.)

As a semi-random point, I’ll add this: I don’t “speak for all survivors”, nor do any of them specifically speak for me. We do often find kernels of truth or common feeling in each other’s words, but it’s a “take what resonates with you and leave the rest” sort of process.

So what to say instead of “you’re so brave/strong because you survived”? Well, for me, I’d rather have my efforts to keep plugging along acknowledged over assumed past “bravery”. Why? Because surviving isn’t a done deal, it’s an ongoing process; and for many of us, it is a lifelong struggle.

Also, I was serious about the “I wasn’t brave as a kid” part. It’s a matter of perspective, in the end. To me, brave would have been trying to run away or refusing to hurt others because they ordered me to. Both of those things would have resulted in my death. So in my mind, what let me survive was closer akin to cowardice, and being told “you were brave” just makes me feel bad, as the truth of my past rises up on cue to negate the “compliment”. Therefore, if the goal is to make me feel better, I’d rather be told, “I’m glad you are still here and it’s great that you do what you can to help others”. Tell me I’m a good daddy, or that you like my poetry, perhaps, if you do. “Brave” is only a lie that haunts me, in tandem with the other ghosts born out of guilt and shame.

Thank you for trying to understand, and for trying to learn that survivors are all different. Maybe somebody else feels better to be told they were “brave enough to survive that”. Maybe they don’t. As I said, none of us are poster representatives for all of us.

The best advice I can give is, if you want to really discuss things with me about abuse and survivorship, make an effort to get to know me. Do some reading here on my blog (without making assumptions) and try not to assume familiarity or display an expectation of intimacy in talking to me before I’ve decided if I feel comfortable with that. It’s the same common courtesy you probably display at any other event where you meet new people. The assumption of intimacy or friendship and the entitlement of expecting me to be buddies just because you believe you’re a decent and safe person, can quickly feel like red flags to me. I often have people exchange three tweets with me and then they seem to assume they are on a par with my support system of people, family and friends, and begin acting like they have the same intimacy privileges that they do. Frankly, that behavior makes me want to avoid those people. So if your goal is to make me feel better, please don’t do that.

If you simply want to ask my views on abuse or survivorship, please still make an effort to allow me to feel comfortable talking to you first. A good start is to do your own research prior, on your own. Speaking to an informed person who asks good questions and wants to discuss issues is a lot more comfortable for me than feeling like a poster boy you randomly want to tell you things to have a passing curiosity satiated. People of that sort are not why I’m here. I am here to try to help others like me or vaguely similar to me, and to help educate those who show some effort in wanting to help, too; especially if they have the goal of learning prevention to keep their own kids safe. That, after all, is the most important thing. Far easier to prevent than to make them endure a lifetime of trying to heal.

Also, please read As Ashes Scatter: My Story and About W.R.R. to learn more about me. It is quite jarring to have a (however well-meaning) stranger assume they know what abuse I suffered on the basis of one tweet.

In conclusion, it is also not helpful or appropriate to ask me how I feel today in reply to a serious tweet about abuse issues, or to offer “religion-based” comfort when you haven’t read the comment policy where I state that that is a trigger for me. I mean no offense, I just need to clarify these points to avoid feeling reluctant to tweet or speak out due to a fear that strangers will start assuming they are “buddies with privileges” and reply to me in ways that make me want to disappear. Thank you for your time and patience, and hopefully, for your understanding.

~ ~ ~

© W.R.R. 7/30/2013
For all survivors of any form of rape or abuse; you are not alone. Seek help. Speak out. Find your path to healing.

http://www.asashesscatter.com
wrr@asashesscatter.com
@AsAshesScatter


A Taut Strand Sings

I can feel the distance
lengthen between us
as you go away
arrhythmic stutter of heartbeat
curl of slick dread
deep inside
I feel the tenuous stretch
as fate and fortune
take you from me
In the stillness, I know
it is only for a little while
and you are thinking of me
the song in your heart
bares my name
I reach out into the gulf
now unafraid of it’s depth
to grasp the strand
that shudders between us
I hear your thoughts there
reclaiming words shared
Fingers touch, pluck the threads
to make the music
that my soul still sings
a song that bares your name
as you show me how
to learn to be myself
even by myself

~ ~ ~

© W.R.R. 7/9/2012

For Sharon, my friend and confidante, a stepping stone who gives so much of her time, caring heart, and gracious spirit to help me on my healing journey. She doesn’t lead the way, she walks at my side, keeping a pace I can manage. When I stumble, she helps me up. When I weep, she comforts me with her own tears, that soft gift of empathy wrapped in a strength that inspires me to keep trying, keep moving forward. Right now she is on a plane to another country. My gut twisted in fear, afraid to not be able to reach her at any moment. But she is teaching me about trust, and I know she will come back to me. She teaches me to trust myself, too. Now is my time to show her that her gifts are well spent – as I strive to be strong for her. Be safe, Shar.


In regard to the conviction of Jerry Sandusky

My deepest thanks to the accusers most, and then to the other witnesses, the prosecution, judge, investigators, and certainly to the jury, for believing the survivors. Normally I’m not a fan of the news media, but in this case, they were exemplary in sticking to facts, protecting the accusers names, and bringing the facts to the public with dignity and respect for the victims. To be honest, I did not expect that last part; nor did I dare too hope too hard for the conviction we finally, thankfully, received. The public Twitter feed on the #sandusky hashtag was 99% amazing support for victims of child sexual abuse, and that helped me a lot, just to see so many outraged and demanding justice for victims. I hope this conversation and support continues in the public eye at last, rather than fading back into hushed obscurity as it did after the same horrors were first reported in the Catholic Church. To my fellow survivors: we are stronger than we know. Many of us are long past the statute of limitations and can’t ever have this kind of justice for ourselves, but we can take this conviction to heart as the harbinger of change that it will be; for us, for those who suffer now as children, and for those who will never be harmed if we work to make those changes a reality.

(Originally posted as a comment on the Good Men Project, here: Viral Thank You Letter to the Sandusky Survivors)