I Didn’t Report Because Fuck You

I Didn’t Report Because Fuck You

I’ve got other shit to do. I work full time at a demanding job. I have two kids. Their dad doesn’t see them or pay child support. I make a decent paycheque which is equivalent to what two parents working at McDonalds would make. Dentist appointments, soccer practice, games every Saturday (my week to supply the oranges), car repairs, my own health (slipped vertebra), I’m out of sick days, recycling day, the kids’ emotional health, help them with homework in the evenings, no minutes on my cell phone, one kid needs braces, figure out a way to pay back student loans, don’t forget bus tickets, I should be exercising more, keep the house liveably clean, really should have a garage sale, car insurance, drive one kid to school for 7:30 twice a week, make sure to have lunch foods, bus tickets, groceries, dinners planned, pay the bills, rake the leaves, bring in fire wood, goddammit forgot to buy light-bulbs again, parent-teacher interviews, Christmas is coming…

So I went on a date and the fucking knuckle-dragger asshole raped me. I will add him to the list of violent misogynists that I know. I’ll add him to the list of men that have assaulted and molested me since my earliest memories in life. The first was when I was five years old–he was a babysitter. What do I start with when I go in to the police station to make my report? Do I tell them about when I was 12 and had to walk past a construction site in Southern Ontario every day for four months and felt literally sick with fear and disgust as the men stared and taunted me? Do I tell them about the time when I was 18 and the older guy I was in love with suddenly decided it would be hot to slap my face while we were ‘making love’? Do I talk about the campus rapes I experienced at Carleton University in 1991? I am forty fucking years old. Where does it begin and where does it end?

I am not ‘scared’ to go to the police. I am not afraid to ‘relive the trauma’ –I live it every day. I am not fearful they won’t believe me or that they will judge and scrutinize me (although they likely won’t believe me and will judge and scrutinize). I know that for each woman this is different and I understand that many are rightfully mistrusting of the police.

But for me? I have enough shit to do. Why the fuck should some asshole cruise along being a total fucking creepy piece of shit and now I have to change my whole life? And give my NAME to all you internet douchebags and rape apologists? No thank you. Who I am is none of your goddam fucking business you nosy shitheels. It is not my responsibility to respond to assault in a way that makes all you assnuggets satisfied. It is up to you–to all of us–to live like decent fucking human beings and stop being pieces of shit to each other.
Fuck you.