July 11th, 2024
There was a notion that came back to me. A notion that the psychological abuse I experienced included sexual violence. It feels like this fact only exists to myself, as no one who knows what I went through ever suggested it or brought it up.
Although I don't know what it was that my abuser said to my childhood best friend to convince them to cut ties with me, I do know what she said to a different friend. Both friends had prior knowledge that my abuser and I were fwb. Friend was told that I had kinky sexual fantasies about her.
I read stories about transfems who have parts of their sex life exposed. Of the times kinks and fantasies were among them, it was to "prove" the transfem was guilty of wanting to sexually abuse someone. If someone really wanted to they could write up some crocodile-tear ragebait about any kink being harmful, but common ones I see are cnc and ageplay. What I'm trying to say is some kinks are more stigmatised than others (especially in the queer community), even if kink itself is stigmatised.
I could tell you that I didn't have hard kinks at the time I was abused, and based on what my friend told me, my abuser wasn't trying to defame me because of my kinks, but because I desired sex at all. My friend who once told me she got unbearably horny around a guy she liked just a few months earlier told me that just the idea of me sexually fantasising about her was violating to hear. But... is my situation really that different from the transfems with hard kinks when both our desires are twisted into a violent visage?
I wonder, I really do wonder. And I want to believe that it IS sexual violence on behalf of all those who went through that. But the idea that the same could be said about me, I don't think so. Maybe I'm being ableist towards myself, thinking that if I can't actually communicate why I think I'm a victim of sexual violence, then I must not be. I would never say that to someone else, though. Maybe I could fill out a whole list of things I say to myself that I wouldn't say to others.
Maybe I also feel this way because mom and dad couldn't be fucked to take me seriously when my sister stole things from me. And because no one stood up to me when I was bullied in highschool. Being violated was the right of others for as long as I can remember, and how can I be inspired to stand up for myself when inspiration only goes as far as the ears have heard or eyes have seen. What right do I have to say that I was abused, or sexually violated, or maligned, or defamed, or that I'm a lesbian, or a woman, or disabled, or oppressed, or at risk, when there's always someone else who communicates that through everything they do and is much more understandable and likeable?
I'm trying to remember where I was when that alarm went off, telling me that I should brush my teeth and get in bed. I'm not changing the date of this entry though. Tomorrow won't be a different day but it will be another day. Just another. I don't keep tally of the days I think I've wasted but I have a rough idea.