I originally posted this on social media, but several people kept asking to share my status. Because of my privacy settings, that required a lot of copy and pasting and was difficult for people not directly connected to me. So I’m just going to go ahead and toss this up here for sharing purposes. And for what it’s worth, here’s some receipts on me already saying #metoo over and over and over and over and over (major CW on some of those). People everywhere have stories like these! You just have to listen to them.
I am late to the #metoo party because I don’t know that I have the energy to say Me Too anymore. I’ve been saying Me Too for years now, and it’s emotionally exhausting. The main thing I get back from saying Me Too is more Me Toos from other women.
You know what I almost never get? Men saying anything at all. At some point, it stops feeling empowering to hear from so many other women about their shared experience. Instead of feeling less alone, I just feel like a repository of other women’s secrets, having nightmares about their experiences and feeling powerless to change anything.
Continue reading #MeToo
This is an essay I wrote in July 2013. I didn’t realize it at the time, but it was the exact moment when my world imploded. I’m happy to report that I have since rebuilt my life with the help of family, friends, medication, and extensive therapy, and I am stronger and better for it.
The first step in that process was finally acknowledging and opening up about my experiences with sexual assault. In sharing this essay with an increasingly wide net of friends, I have learned that almost every other woman in my life has had to deal with sexual harassment and violence in some measure, but almost none of them talks about it. That is why I am publishing this essay at long last.
I believe that as a society, we need to hear the voices of more survivors of sexual violence. The taboo surrounding discussion of sexual assault, rape, and abuse is too strong to prevent it from happening, and it is too strong to help victims heal. If I had felt more comfortable talking about my own history, I don’t think I would have become as sick as I did. But I also believe that no individual survivor owes it to a single person to talk about their experiences. So that leaves me. My own voice.
Continue reading PTSD
This past Monday, my friend No H invited me over to her place to play video games. “Hatoful Boyfriend was on sale for $5!!” she said enthusiastically. Hatoful Boyfriend is a Japanese dating sim that No H has been desperate to play ever since it was featured on Day9’s old Geek & Sundry show, Meta Dating. For those of you that don’t understand any of the words in that sentence, a dating sim is a type of video game that basically functions as a choose-your-own-adventure romance novel, where the primary objective of the game is to date someone. Choices you make, such as what outfit to wear or how to flirt with another character affect which of the love interests you can end up with as well as your ultimate success in the game.
Continue reading Hatoful Failure
Following my post on Thursday, I’ve a had a modest but nonetheless steady stream of traffic to this site. It mostly seemed to be coming from within the Wellesley community, so I was a little surprised when my mom sent me a link to a PBS article in which I am quoted. It’s a short piece without any particularly new or noteworthy information, and for whatever reason, the author only included my quote from the side that’s trying to get the sculpture moved inside.
Continue reading The Best Time a Middle-Aged White Man Called Me a “Drama Queen” for Having PTSD
ETA: Trigger warning for sexual assault/rape.
Dear Davis Museum and Cultural Center,
You probably don’t remember me, but I worked for you during my time at Wellesley. I was in the technology department, if you can call one full-time employee and a work-study student a department. The bulk of my job consisted of a) importing digital photographs of artwork into your new database and b) updating your website, particularly whenever there was a new exhibition on. Because of these two activities, I am extensively acquainted with the vast majority of your 10,000+ works collection, and I am also pretty familiar with special exhibits you put on between 2005 and 2009. I remember some of these being more controversial than others—for instance, your “On The Edge” exhibit definitely sparked conversations around campus when you decided to advertise by sticking postcards of this guy in every mailbox:
Continue reading An open letter to Wellesley College’s Art Museum
Several months ago, E told me that I absolutely had to read this one young adult series–the Jessica Darling books by Megan McCafferty. Now for all but the three of you I’ve managed to convince that YA lit is not a complete waste of time, hold on a minute before you click that little x on your browser tab. This is not going to be a post about YA lit. I repeat: This is not going to be a post about YA lit. Just bear with me for the next two paragraphs and I promise that you’ll be rewarded with an art history lesson and one of those insane person rants that several of you seem to like so much.
Continue reading Gustave Courbet, Celebrity Stalker