Tuesday, June 9, 2015

some thoughts on religion and sexuality

(i.e. the duggars, my family, and catholicism)

tl;dr - “Religion makes people do terrible things,” the never ending saga!

I do not aim to defend, excuse, or support the Duggars in any way. But the media coverage has made me upset for several reasons. Of course Josh Duggar deserves to be punished for his crimes and of course his victims (including his sisters) deserve all the support and healing in the world. But there’s a really big distinction between two types of molestation: adults to children, and children to children.
In most cases, that I am aware of, children who molest other children were victims of abuse themselves first. Abuse and hidden sexuality is a learned behavior, not an innate one. While Josh Duggar was old enough to know that what he was doing was wrong, I am nearly certain he is not the only one responsible. This is not a gut feeling, I’ve observed a pattern here.

I, myself, am “the victim of childhood sexual abuse,” an “adult molested as a child,” and a “survivor of sexual assault” (and whatever dumb terms you wanna throw in there). The process of reporting my abuse, while it proved to me that the US Justice system cannot help people like me, also brought me to confront my abuser. He confessed to me that he knew everything he did was wrong, he knew it was inexcusable, and he was abused by someone before he began abusing others. My abuse from him began when he was thirteen, around the same age Josh Duggar reportedly began abusing his victims. Additionally, my abuser is a gay man in a conservative, Catholic, holier-than-thou family. 

After I found out that my abuser was also a victim, my parents informed me that my uncle, also on the Catholic side of my extended family, was “involved in a rape” in his younger years. This I take to mean as he raped someone as an adult, not necessarily a molestation case. Just a guess here. 
The pattern I’m starting to see is: when you try to squish human sexuality and behavior into a tiny box, it’s going to come out the sides. 

Who would have thought: a religion that teaches people to suppress their sexuality, fear their own bodies, and feel shame for even thinking about sex LEADS TO A POOR, CONVOLUTED EXPRESSION OF IT.

On top of that: a religion that teaches men to be aggressive animals who are not responsible for sexual behavior and teaches women to be chaste flowers of modesty who are responsible for every man’s thought about her MAKES CHOOSING AND BLAMING A VICTIM TOO EASY.

I don’t care how joyful and connected and blessed your Judeo-Christian institute of religion makes you feel if this is the cost.

So far, just in my own 21 years, I have seen too many people get hurt by men and/or adults who either feel their actions are justified by an imaginary man in the sky or have no way to explore or express their development into a sexual being without abusing others. 

To Josh Duggar and my abuser, I hope you get the help you need, the punishment you deserve, and nothing else.

To my fellow victims, I hope you get the help you need, the support you deserve, and the courage and ability to escape institutions that make you feel less than human. You are alive, strong, and healing. I hate being told that as much as any “victim/survivor,” but it’s true.

To everyone else, I know it’s easy to just shit all over people like Josh Duggar, but know that his actions do not exist in a void. He is a symptom of a larger problem, as is my abuser. Tweet all you want about what an evil family the Duggars are, but also be critical of the sources of their actions. Be critical and wise enough to see how these religious creeds negatively effect billions of people all the time. We shouldn’t need a story like the Duggars’ in order to start putting a stop to the all-powerful Judeo-Christian rape culture machine.

Tuesday, May 26, 2015

visits

B, you make me say and think and feel embarrassingly cliche things. during each monthly mini-vacation we have together i find myself falling in love with you all over again and again. two and a half years and the butterflies still come. recently i’ve caught myself thinking “there is no way anyone could possibly be more in love or more lucky than i am,” and i think that’s how love should feel: like you’ve achieved the impossible.

Wednesday, May 13, 2015

naked

fuck me with my elbow pad on. 
shake the bed to rattle the pill bottles on the nightstand. 
pause your body on top of mine while i gulp a dose of pepto. 

then you will see me 
naked.

Saturday, May 9, 2015

don't ask strangers

“what did you do to yourself?” 

they ask, as if i deliberately injured my body. [if it’s an illness, you curse the world; but if it’s an injury, you blame the injured?] 

“i broke my arm when i was thirteen. i have nerve damage.” 

i say, as if answering that question for the third time that day doesn’t make me want to groan. 

“oh, i hope it gets better!” 

oh, you idiot. good job, you said the right thing. the ‘get well soon’ response. 

“it’s permanent.” i say, as if this personal, private, difficult struggle with chronic pain and disability is something that belongs in your petty small-talk.

are you seeing anyone?

his name is Brandon and he is great! he’s queer, he’s here, get used to it. he’s fat and always wants to know if you like fat guys. he writes poems and makes jokes, usually at the same time. he likes to cook for people and play board games. he hates cats and is allergic to nuts so if you eat nuts you have to wait 2 hours before kissing him. he does not own a bed, and one wall of his bedroom is decorated with nautical-themed antiques. his favorite color is purple, which is also my favorite color so i think that’s why we get along so well.

Friday, May 8, 2015

art v. death

i think about death a lot. and for me, at least, the desire to create is very close to the fear of dying. i could die tomorrow. i could be stabbed to death like that kid from my hometown; i could be hit by a car while studying abroad like my friend Adam. improvisers don’t die but somehow he did.
i could die tomorrow, but at least this blog post would still be here to show you how ironic that would be. one last laugh before i go.

Thursday, April 9, 2015

pillow thoughts



i do not have anxiety, the anxiety has me.
it lives in my stomach my neck my chest my spine
it lives in my elbow and in my mind.
the water will never be hotter 
than the blotchy red patches of skin that show during an anxiety attack.
the water will never be hot enough to make much difference.
take a shower, go to bed, you need to go to bed.
i can’t sleep anymore i can’t eat anymore, something –
something is wrong
maybe writing will help. no it never looks right.
maybe crying will help. stop crying you selfish idiot.
PTSD, OCD, GAD, EMDR
your stupid alphabet soup does not make me feel better.
brush your teeth, comb your hair, take a pill to make you tired.
oh! i just remembered, i need to –
–no, don’t give in to the pillow thoughts to-do list.
but maybe it feel better do get those things done
or maybe it will only feed the monster, the hunger.
and here i am again with my laptop on my lap in bed
waiting for my drugs to send me off to a sleep i know will only last until 5am
or maybe this time it will keep me down long enough to sleep in.
only way to know is to shut up and go to bed.
here goes nothing.

Tuesday, April 7, 2015

B

i love the way you have become ingrained in everyday things. from the desk i do my homework on, to the groceries in my pantry – so many things make me think of you. these mundane reminders of how much i love you and know you and want you make me blush with excitement as if it’s the first time i’m hearing you say the words “I love you.”

Sunday, January 11, 2015

B

i want you beside me when i’m sleeping
i want to wake up to a kiss on the cheek every morning
i want my ass to be always in your hands
i want to feel you mindlessly play with my ring while holding my hand
i want to scratch the back of your head before pulling you in to kiss
i want to pick the pimples on your back
i want to have my back massaged on particularly stressful nights
i want to do the dishes after you cook dinner
i want to watch the daily show with you every night
i want you here