Tag Archives: abuse

Origins #27

13 Jan

I promised at the end of origins #26 that I’d give you some insight into how I grew up because it’ll become relevant to the story, so buckle your seatbelts, because my back story is so fully of Jerry Springer type shit that you probably won’t even believe it.

This one’s epic so don’t expect to get through it in one go…

My family

Like most people of my generation, I was born to a man and a woman. My mother had already had two daughters to her first husband before I arrived. They were 9 and 7 years old respectively when I showed up, and my little brother, also born to my father, would join us about a year and a half later.

So right off the bat, I’ve got two half sisters and a brother, but my father had already had a son to another woman, so I had another half brother. I only met him once though, so I don’t think of him as family.

I would eventually learn that when my mother was 19, she’d gotten pregnant to some handsome young foreigner who promptly skipped out on her, leaving her too embarrassed to admit the situation to her parents, and gaving that child up for adoption. So, technically speaking, I have another half brother out in the world.

But wait… there’s more!

My mother and father never married. In fact, my father was out of the picture before my brother was even born. My mother then found a man who already had 3 daughters of his own, and married him, making him my stepfather. His daughters were older than my sisters and lived with their mother, but technically this added 3 stepsisters to my already complex family.

Say what!?

So, technically I have 2 half sisters, 3 step sisters, 2 half brothers (one of whom I’ve never met and the other I only met once), and one full blood brother.

But when I talk about my family, I refer to my two half sisters as my sisters, and my full blood brother as my brother, and even though I called him ‘Dad’ most of my childhood, I refer to my stepfather as my stepfather, and only ever refer to my father as my father, neither of them ever get the title Dad these days.

The story begins

My sisters and their father

As I mentioned, my mother had her first son at the age of 19 but gave him up for adoption. That would have been back in 1968. Then in 1970 my mother met and married Les Harland, and they would go on to have my sisters, Erica in late 1970, and Kylie in 1972.

I don’t know when Les and my mother divorced, but I know that before that happened, Les molested both Erica and Kylie, and I know that he did this repeatedly. I also know he was a taxi driver with a gambling addiction, so what money he did make, burned through his pockets so quickly he might as well not have made any at all.

Sadly, I believe it was the gambling, not the sexual assault that caused the divorce. I’m not sure if my Mum knew of the abuse at the time but it became common knowledge in the family before the girls eventually moved out of home. Nothing was ever done about it and it drives me crazy.

My father, me, and my brother

I’m not sure how long my mother had to get by as a single parent of two young daughters, but I she must have known my father since at least 1978, because I was born in 1979. My father, Henry, was an alcoholic. I knew that since I was little, but it wasn’t until 2016 that I would learn that he was also violent and that he would sometimes come home drunk and climb into bed with my sisters, claiming it was all just a mistake the next day.

Come 1981, with my brother Alex still in her womb, my mother and father went their separate ways. I didn’t know anything about what caused the end of their relationship when I was a kid. All I knew was there was a time my father was around, and then he wasn’t around any more.

I was told repeatedly as a kid that because my parents were never married, making me a bastard. I think that’s why I always assumed I was the result of an accidental pregnancy.

My father didn’t disappear completely. He would visit us on Christmas and Easter and our birthdays. And then just on Christmas, and maybe our birthdays. And then maybe our birthdays. And then just text messages.

I know my father went bankrupt. I know he lost his drivers license for 10 years. I know I look a lot like him. I know he left behind his first son, and then he left my brother and I behind as well, and then he took up with a lady who already had two sons and was a father to them.

Love your neighbour

With my father gone and my mother with 3 children and one on the way, she had very little choice but to move into the cheapest place she could find. That would be a block of flats in one of the cheapest suburbs in Perth at the time.

Being the only parent, she had to work, which meant she had to rely on people to baby-sit. The problem was, my mother had moved to Perth from a small country town and didn’t really know many people, least of all in this new suburb, so she had to make friends with her neighbours and have them baby-sit us.

I would later learn that one of those neighbours who babysat us was imprisoned for molesting children.

The kids need a man in the house

My mother was of the opinion that children need a father, and I’m sure the idea of no being dependent on neighbours to baby-sit spurred her on too, so she made sure to find a man to play the role of father to her now 4 children. My mother married my stepfather, Des, in the early 80s, but I couldn’t tell you the year.

My first memory of Des, which might actually be my first ever memory, is of telling Des I’d race him to our new HomesWest (government) house.

I remember running my little legs off down the footpath. I remember that I beat him. I was about 4 years old and yet I outran a fully grown man. The fact that Des smoked at least a  pack of Winfield Blues every day probably had something to do with my victory.

Our new house was in a different part of that same, very poor suburb my Mum we had all been living in, but I remember being overwhelmed with excitement that we didn’t have to live in the flats any more.

Plenty of fish in the sea

So, how did my mother meet my stepfather? I didn’t find out until about 15 years later, but they actually met through a dating agency. Back in the day that was seen as a somewhat embarrassing thing, but my mother had four kids so I’m not surprised she went that path, but let me tell you why Des ended up going that route.

Des was mentally ill. I believe that was what caused his divorce from the mother of his daughters. Des had worked at a shoe factory for 30 years and had a mental breakdown along the way. I assume that either that caused the divorce, or that the divorce caused the breakdown.

Either way, he got a fortnightly needle in the bum to keep him in check, and he smoked all those cigarettes as a form of self medicating. He said they calmed him down. He’d sit there in a cloud of smoke lighting the next cigarette while he’s still smoking the current one, just to avoid the few seconds between them.

Us kids new that Des was sick, but we didn’t know exactly what that meant. We just knew he was ‘crazy’ and that he’d had electroshock therapy.

Like so many other parts of my life, it wasn’t until many years later that I’d find out the actual condition Des had. I remember very clearly reading the black typewritten text on the yellowed paper, it said “Schizophrenia”. If I hadn’t seen that document, I’m not sure I would have ever found out.

A big family in a little house

It was a three bedroom house so Mum and Des were in the master bedroom. Erica and Kylie were in one bedroom, and Alex and I in the other room.

We must have been there before I started pre-primary because I remember very distinctly one time Mum picked me up from Kindergarten to bring me home to that house…

As Mum took a right hand turn the door on my left swung open, not having been properly closed, and I rolled out of that open door. I don’t know if I was actually buckled into a seat belt or not but by caution or dumb luck I ended up tangled upside down in that brown, ratty, old, non self-tightening belt, dangling millimetres from the road. No harm, no foul, I suppose.

So if I was still in kindy, I was younger than 5, which means Alex was about 3, Kylie was about 12 and Erica was roughly 14. Until recently I remembered those early days very fondly. That would change as a result of the rest of what happens in the origins story.

It’s not like there weren’t bad times, I just didn’t think about them very often. I guess that was part of my technique of choosing to not care about things as a way to stop them affecting me.

Bad things

I’m not super keen to tell you the bad things, but I think it really helps explain a lot of why the rest of the origins story plays out the way it does.

For starters, I grew up around two girls who had been sexually abused, that in itself is a very bad thing. My sisters both struggled to cope with the fallout of being abused. Of course they struggled, they were little girls who had been violated and they wouldn’t have had the skills to properly process all the feelings that come with such a violation. They also weren’t taken to anyone to help them understand the situation, and worst of all, the perpetrator was never even arrested for his crimes. In fact, the police were never even informed that these crimes were committed.

Erica’s way of dealing with having been molested was to turn in on herself and become a very quiet, timid girl who just wanted to be alone as much as possible. Kylie went the other way. She became aggressive and loud and in-your-face, and she became quite violent.

Dealing with Kylie

Kylie, being 7 years older than me, had a significant height and weight advantage over me, and I’d been told I was never allowed to hit a girl, no matter what. That meant as futile as my defences might have been against someone so much older, I wasn’t even allowed to fight back. Unfortunately for me Kylie knew that too.

She used to torment me. She used to straight up torture me.

Kylie would learn all these martial arts moves and use them against me. She’d bend my arm behind my back and sit on me to hold me in place, then she’d punch me with one  knuckle pushed out to give me a “dead arm” or a “dead leg“, or one of each, or all four limbs at once, depending on her mood.

Then there were the pressure points, Chinese burns, the camel bites, the hair pulling, the ear twisting, the head locks, the good old fashioned kicks to any and every part of my body, but the biggest prize in Kylie’s eyes, was to get me right in the balls.

Logically I know there’s no shame in being Even though I know mathematically there should be no shame in that for me, it’s hard to ignore the fact that you were beaten by a girl, especially because Kylie would point that out to me while she was beating the shit out of me. She’d literally say things like “You’re getting beat up by a girl,” or “I’m just a girl, I can’t hurt a boy,” and my least favourite of all… “Are you gonna cry?” which would of course be said in repetition while she hit me over and over until the pain overwhelmed my tiny little body and eventually the tears would come out.

I hated the pain but what I hated more was someone forcing me to do what they wanted, and enjoying making me feel weak. The fact that I wasn’t allowed to fight back made it so much worse.

You might think that because Kylie tortured me that I didn’t care for her, but you’d be wrong. I loved her dearly. I hated that she hurt me, but because she was so smart she was fun to play games with and she was witty and funny and just fun to be around. Despite all the shit she put me through, she was probably my favourite sibling.

I loved her so much that seeing her accidentally run through a glass door and get all cut up left me so traumatised and upset that I urinated blood for a few days afterwards.

Dealing with Des

I knew Des was ‘crazy’ but I didn’t know what that meant, exactly, but I knew he’d act really weird sometimes and that I’d have no idea why. I’d say something that everyone else in the room understood to mean one thing, but Des would take it as a personal attack. Even as a little kid I didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, so I’d try really hard to word things as inoffensively as possible, but he’d always find new ways to be offended by me.

Des was one of those people who claim to be Christian but never go to church and completely ignore the basic teachings of the bible. Regardless, he was quite focussed on God and Jesus and the devil.

One day, very early on when I was maybe 6, Des told me that he knew that Alex, my little brother was second coming of Jesus, and that I was the Antichrist. I didn’t even know what the Antichrist was. I had to ask the guy at the Church the rest of us actually did go to what it meant, and he just said “the devil”.

So Alex was all that is good, and I was all that is evil. That’s a hell of a thing to hear when you’re barely old enough to tie up your own shoes.

Another important thing about Des was the fact that he was almost completely illiterate, which meant that I was able to read more than him by about mid-way through year one (5/6 years old). Des hated that. When I would try to read my little golden books I loved so much, he’d accuse me of trying to rub it in that I was smarter than him.

And Des sure didn’t mind giving a hiding. Any chance he got he’d belt my scrawny little frame until I was a blubbering mess. Sometimes I couldn’t sleep because I was so sore that night. Sometimes it was a few nights later before I could get comfortable again.

When Des hit me, it was terrifying. Obviously getting smacked is going to be scary for a little kid, but Des would get this look in his eyes. They’d bulge out a bit and it was like an animal was attacking you. I don’t know how else to describe it but the scariest part of all was not knowing if he’d stop.

Sometimes he’d at least start out trying to be playful. He’d tickle me and I’d laugh, and then he’d keep tickling me for too long and I’d scream at him to stop, but he’d keep tickling me. He’d hold me down and keep tickling me and he’d ask “what, are you gonna cry?” “Are you a little cry baby?” And, big shock, a little kid will cry if you do that to them long enough.

He’d pull that whole “Are you gonna cry?” thing when it didn’t start out so playful as well. Sometimes he just wanted to prove that he was stronger than me, so he’d just hold me down and poke me, or just say mean shit to me, or keep smacking me, or whatever else would come to his mind, but it was always with the same goal… of making me cry.

Dealing with Des, part 2

Des was violent, and certainly that was something I disliked about him, but physical pain dissipates so quickly. The things that stick with a kid, or at least this kid, are the things people say, and Des just loved to tell me things.

He’d tell me that I was ugly. That I was a “slow learner” (that era’s equivalent to retard). He’d tell me I was useless, and selfish, and greedy, that I was weak, that I had a stupid smile, and that I dumb, that I was stupid, that I was too skinny, and worthless, and on and on.

A couple of his absolutely favourites were, “No girl will ever want you.” and “You’ll never keep a job.

It’s hard to know how often he said those things. I didn’t like to hear them so I tried very hard to not let them in, and I managed to forget about them for a very long time. When I was reminded that I was told all those sorts of things, it felt like I must have heard them every single day of my childhood, but I’m sure it couldn’t have been that frequently. I can assure you though, that it was a very, very regular occurrence for me to hear those sorts of things.

Dealing with Des, part 3

I was not Des’ only target. Des didn’t like Kylie much either. Kylie was smart and the older she got, the harder it became for anyone to make Kylie do anything she didn’t want to do.

Kylie was a straight A student in primary school but that all changed when she started high school. All of a sudden she wanted to be with the cool kids and she focused her attention on that instead of school. Her grades plummeted and her lack of respect for authority started to put her at odds with Des.

They were at each other constantly. They’d scream at each other, and swear, and sometimes Des would smack her and if he did Kylie would fight back.

Our little 3 bedroom HomesWest home wasn’t big enough for the two of ’em, and I bet the whole suburb could hear it. I’m sure it comes as no surprise to anyone that this battle escalated over time.

The peak of their battle happened while I was still quite young. I estimate Kylie being around 15 at the time, making me about 8.

I remember Des and Kylie yelling at each other. I remember looking at them while they screamed at each other. Kylie’s hair whipping about as she moved. Des’ eyes bulging in that way that always meant trouble. His white singlet yellowed from wear and from absorbing the smoke of innumerable cigarettes. The cheap, grey, dress pants and belt he always wore around the house even though he never went anywhere or did anything.

I remember his hands around her throat.

I remember her ripping at his fingers for all she was worth.

I remember the stance of a man in his 40s wringing the neck of a young teenage girl, with him the aggressor, leaning forward, and her the desperate, overpowered victim, in a pose of sheer terror.

I remember standing there in my pyjamas wanting desperately to do something, and I remember not being able to move. I couldn’t even make a noise.

I remember the moment he dropped her limp body and how it collapsed into the ground.

I remember believing my sister was dead.

It felt like hours went by.

And then she suddenly made this ungodly noise, this revolting, animalistic heave of inhalation. It might well have been the most awful noise I had ever heard, but to me it was the most beautiful sound that could ever exist, it was the sound of my sister coming back from the dead.

And do you know what happened next?

My mother told us all he didn’t mean it. My mother genuinely believed we could all just carry on living the way we had before.

That didn’t work so well for Des. He had another nervous breakdown. He went back to Greylands for about 6 weeks and got some more electroshock therapy.

Seeya later Kylie

Prize for the least surprising moment of this story goes to the fact that Kylie moved out almost immediately after Des tried to kill her. She went off to live with some friends and very quickly got in over her head with drugs and alcohol.

She met a man who somehow puts up with the chaos that she continues to generate even to this day and managed to have 4 children with him. The first was born when Kylie was 19.

Kylie accidentally killed their second child in her sleep by rolling onto him when he was just 11 days old. She told the rest of the world that her baby was a victim of SIDS. I didn’t find out the truth until 20 years after the fact.

Her other 3 children would go through a hectic upbringing surrounded by constant drug use and alcohol.

Seeya later Erica

Erica moved out within the same year as Kylie because she’d just finished year 12. She went off to live with my grandparents in a small country town. Erica had gotten progressively more religious as the years went on and the small town environment suited her well.

She would meet a man and have a child to him, only for the father of her child to disappear on her.

Due to her religion, Erica thought she should be able to forgive her father for molesting her, so when he came knocking looking for a place to live, having been kicked out by everyone else he knew, she took pity on him and let him move into her house with her and her young child.

I was very angry about it and made that well known, but people are going to do what they’re going to do.

It turned out that I was wrong about what would happen, but I was 100% right that letting that monster into her house was a terrible idea. See, as far as I know he didn’t touch Erica’s son, but he did leave his fucking cigarette lighter on the coffee table and leave Erica’s 5 year old son alone in the house with the cigarette lighter.

The house burned to the ground. Erica had no insurance.

I’m very thankful to say that the community rallied around Erica and her boy and they bought her a new house on the same block. I don’t tend to appreciate religion but I hope there’s a God out there who can reward those good people in the afterlife, and I hope there’s a devil to take care of Les Harland.

Where was my Mum in all this?

She was working.

Des got a disability pension but it all went on cigarettes. Just after he nearly killed Kylie he was smoking 100 cigarettes a day and his pension didn’t even cover his cigarettes at that point.

So my Mum had to work to cover all the bills, and holy shit did she ever work! She cleaned houses and was often gone for 12 or 14 hours a day, sometimes 7 days a week. Once a week she’d round Alex and I up to go deliver newspapers and we’d use the $4 we each made to buy our Red Rooster for dinner.

If my Mum could pick up some work washing dishes, or cleaning an office, or anything like that, she’d take it on. Whatever she could do, she would do.

My Mum made sure we had enough money to get by. Now, if you ever saw how skinny us kids were you might disagree, but we none of us starved to death. Sure, the other kids made fun of the holes in my clothes, and they made fun of how long I went without hair cuts, and that you my toes poked out of my shoes, and that I had to wear clothes I’d long since outgrown, but I’m still here and you don’t get much for being fashionable in primary school anyway.

One more thing about Mum working. Des would sit on the front porch waiting all day for her to come home. He’d sit there and stare at the street desperately nervous that this would be the day she wouldn’t come home.

He was right

Kylie left us. Erica left us. Turned out it was only a matter of time before Mum left us.

I’d finished school and had my first job when my Mum finally pulled the pin. Believe it or not, I didn’t see it coming at all.

My Mum and Des had never had a good relationship. They’d scream at each other and throw shit at each other and occasionally a plate or a coffee cup would explode on a wall between phrases like “You don’t fucking love me you lying bitch!” and “I’ve been working all day and you haven’t even done the dishes!” and “I’ll leave! I’ll fucking leave! Don’t you test me!”

You’d think the writing was on the wall in amongst the shattered porcelain, but I genuinely didn’t see it coming because they’d had this horrible, co-dependent relationship for 16 years by the time it finally broke.

I have no problem with my mother leaving my stepfather. It was the right thing for her to do. I wish she’d done it earlier.

What I do have a problem with is how my Mum finished things up. She just didn’t come home.

She didn’t fucking warn me and it was days before I knew what had happened to her. That was pretty stressful but it only got worse when she finally did contact me because she told me she’d spoken to HomesWest, the government housing body who she rented the house through and told them she was moving out. You have to have a certain number of people staying in your house to qualify for HomesWest and with Mum gone, we didn’t qualify any more.

So not only did my parents just break-up and my Mum had gone missing for days, I was now due to be evicted, effectively scheduled to be homeless.

For fuck’s sake.

Seeya Grandad

It’s difficult to cram a whole life into a single post but this story just wouldn’t be complete if I didn’t include my Grandfather.

I’ve told you about my father, the alcoholic bankrupt. I’ve told you about my sisters’ father, the child molesting gambling addict; and I’ve told you about my stepfather, the schizophrenic stepdaughter strangler and all round child abuser.

As far as male role models they left a lot to be desired, but that didn’t matter because I had my Grandfather.

When World War II broke out my Grandad was too young to go, so he lied about his age and went anyway. He was shot through the knee and captured and was a prisoner of war for five years. He eventually gets back to Australia and he goes home and starts a farm, and does alright with that farm too. Not bad for a bloke who can no longer bend his left leg!

And as the world progressed, so did he. When he bought a Datsun ute, all his mates had a go at him for buying a Japanese vehicle. He said, simply “The war is over. We need to move on.”

And for a man who’d been through so much and worked so damned hard and seen his daughter make such bad decisions with men, he was nothing but adoring of his grandchildren, regardless of how they came about. He was always ready to have a laugh and always had a joke to tell.

I don’t know if the other kids felt the same but he made me feel special every time I saw him. He called me a special nickname that nobody else in the world ever called me and he’d pick me up and put me on his shoulders like fathers do in the movies. He played cricket with us into his 70s!

I got the short straw with a lot of things, but I had a legend of a grandfather and I’ll be forever thankful for that.

But my Grandfather left us too.

It happened just after I found out my Mum had left Des and I found out I was staring down an upcoming homelessness. Des got a call at home from someone looking for my Mum to let her know her father had been rushed to a hospital in Perth.

Des relayed the message to me when I came home for  my break in my shift at the pizza store. I wanted to call the pizza store to cancel my shift so I could go to the hospital but Des wouldn’t let me use the phone. He told me that my grandfather was ok, that I’d be able to see him tomorrow, that I should let him get some rest.

I argued but I was going to need all the money I could get for when we were evicted and Des seemed so certain that my Grandad was alright and that it wasn’t urgent and I was due back at work and I didn’t know what to do, so I went back to work.

When I got home 4 or so hours later, Des told me my Grandfather had passed away while I was at work.

I was devastated.

A few days later I found that document with Des’s diagnosis that I mentioned earlier. That word Schizophrenia answered a lot of questions.

The leftovers

I didn’t talk much about Alex. He was a good kid but a bit socially awkward. I love him but I didn’t treated him very well. I wasn’t nearly as violent to him as Kylie was to me, but we had our fair share of tussles and I always won, except for the time he chased me AND GOT ME with a steaming hot iron.

After Mum left us, I moved in with friends. It was great fun but after a few years I went back to study and moved in with my Mum, my brother, his wife, and their newborn child.

About a year and a half into that Mum tells me that she’s buying a house and that her, my brother and my brother’s wife would be going thirds in the mortgage.

That meant… I had nowhere to live… again.

So I moved in with some people I’d met through my studies. One of them used to many drugs and slipped into a drug induced psychosis which lead him to believe I was trying to hook up with his pregnant girlfriend, which wouldn’t be such a big deal if he hadn’t studied Muay Thai Kickboxing for 15 years and collected all his rage into a fist and king hit me while I was cleaning up after one of his parties.

He knocked me out and fractured my skull in the process. I don’t know how or why I didn’t fall over while that happened but he guy who x-rayed my skull said I’m lucky I didn’t because I would have very likely died.

After that I started a small business, played in a few bands got involved with that girlfriend I was with for 6 years. Literally nothing happened in that 6 years except for me getting fat, working really hard, driving my car at the race track and finally getting my job at Everlong.

Now back to the actual story

I hope this was remotely interesting to read. I think it’s necessary information for what’s ahead in the origins story and I’ll refer back to this a lot to help things make sense as the story continues.

Hopefully you feel like you know me a little better. I wasn’t lying about the Jerry Springer shit, was I?!

Motherly love

4 Jan

I have a huge affinity for the mothers of the world. The older I get the more I realise just how challenging an undertaking it is to raise a child and just how much hard work and sacrifice goes into it. To the billions of mothers of the world who have put their children’s needs and wants ahead of their own, I salute you and I hope your children show their gratitude to you for everything you have done and will do for them.

A tattoo with the word "Mom" in a love heart

With that said, there are a few mothers out there who are really letting the rest of the team down. I’m not talking about the mother’s who didn’t know the right thing to say when their child was upset, or couldn’t find a way to afford that special item the kid was dreaming of having, or the ones who had no choice but to end the relationship with their child’s father and unfortunately had to put the kid through a tough time in the process. No, those are parts of life. As difficult as those things might be, they’re not malicious acts.

bad

Unacceptable

The mothers who are letting everyone else down are those who refuse to accept the responsibilities of being a parent. That’s some real bullshit right there. Your kid has only got one mother and it’s impossible to overstate how important that mother is to her child. To not at least try to do the best for your child is unconscionable. Aside from the very, very small percentage of women who are genuinely forced into being a mother without any choice in the matter, the rest either chose to have a child or at least chose to ignore the steps that go into avoiding having a child.

Once the kid is born, you’ve got one responsibility before all else: to ensure that child gets the best life you can possibly provide him/her/other-politically-correct-alternate-gender-title. If it’s not in you to devote yourself to that child it’s better to put them up for adoption and allow someone else to show that child the love they’ll need.

To not give your kid your all is pretty shitty, but the sad thing is, there are mothers out there who are doing an even worse job than that. There are mothers out there who actually intentionally mistreat their children. If ever there’s someone who deserves the title of crazy bitch, it’s a mother who knowingly harms her child.

Here are a few examples not to follow if you’re fortunate enough to get the opportunity to be a mother:

I didn’t know it was possible to fit the word whore so many times into an 11 minute conversation with your son.

Crazy bitch tip: It’s never ok to wear a white dress to a wedding, least of all to your daughters. Also, when your children are telling you that you’ve hurt them over and over, acknowledgement and an apology is a better starting point than trying to convince them that they’re wrong.

Apparently she “didn’t mean to do that one”.

Crazy bitch tip: You should be mortified if you cause your child to fall and smash their head onto the ground, and if you’re not it’s time to speak to a psychologist about why.

This one is so hard to watch.

Crazy bitch tip: Discipline and torture are not the same thing. If your child is shrieking like an animal from the physical or emotional pain you’re inflicting upon them, you’re doing it wrong.

Crazy bitch tip: if even your dog can tell that you’re doing the wrong thing, it’s time to adjust your approach.

Crazy bitch tip: it is more important to feed your child than have access to the internet.

Crazy bitch tip: not everyone is meant to breed.

The truly revolting

Crazy bitch tip: you’re supposed to fucking protect your children from predators, not invite them into your home.

Crazy bitch tip: if your boyfriend wants to fuck your children, get the fuck away from him!

Crazy bitch tip: do not pimp out your own goddamned child!

Crazy bitch tip: do not pimp out your own goddamned handicapped child! For Fuck’s sake!!!!!!!!!

 

White people are allowed to have opinions

28 May

I missed the first part of this video the first time I watched it, so I was shocked by the actions of the presenter.

Then I watched it again and caught the part where the woman tells the presenter that his opinion is invalid because he’s a white male and suggests that because he’s a white male, he’s automatically racist and sexist. I also noticed that, in the midst of this she tries to talk over the host of the show and then accuses him of talking over her.

At a certain point, there’s just no way to be on her side.

For me it was when she couldn’t handle the criticism the host aimed at her and told him that she wasn’t “going to enact the labour of having to explain” why the hosts criticism of her calling him a racist, sexist purely for being born a white male is offensive to her.

For the record, I know ‘her’ name but I don’t want to direct people in her direction, so I’m going with the generic forms of ‘she’ and ‘her’.

Honestly, I just feel bad for her. I feel bad for the majority of these young social justice warriors, really.

Yes, of course there are wrongs going on in the world and there are people that seek to take advantage of you or are prejudiced against you because you were born female or an ethnicity other than Caucasian, but I think it’s been so brainwashed into these young women that they’re seeing it in situations it doesn’t exist. That wouldn’t be such an issue if it didn’t actually hurt the cause, but it does. It diminishes the impact of the voices of those people who are fighting against actual injustices. It reinforces the opinions of those people who are sexist and racist and it alienates the people who are actually on the good side because they get blamed for things they have nothing to do with.

Anyway, you might as well disregard anything I’ve said on the matter because I’m a white, male and my opinion is apparently racist, sexist and minimalising everyone on the planet. Sorry about that, and sorry about talking over you.

Crazy bitch tip: Maybe you should enact the labour of explaining whatever the fuck is going on in your head so that someone can understand why you’re calling everyone racist sexists.

Update

I found a video in which a guy goes through and accumulates all the various bullshit the young woman in the video has been up to.

But I’ve realised that it’s presented by a white male, so again, it’s clearly completely invalid as well.

Animals

14 May

The following video shows several teenage Portugese girls bullying a boy by surrounding him and physically assaulting him. It’s like watch human beings behave like animals.

Here’s a translation of the video, provided by the Reddit user usefulreddit.

This is not a initiation ritual! The kid is being bullied. He does not react because behind the girls there were guys defending them 😦 It’s sad to see this happening in my own country…

Bullied: “Look you should wait before hitting me cause there’s still people passing by”…

1st Bully: “Don’t turn your face away or you will get hit more”

Girl in the back: “Careful, there’s people passing by”

Boy in the back: “How’s it going?” (trying to avoid attention of the passerby)

Then 1st bully starts to count from 1 to 2 several times while the 2nd bully slaps him on the count of 2… 1st bully: “One, two, …”

2nd bully to the 1st: “Hit him”

1st bully: “Three” slap

1st bully: “This is how you hit hard” punch

1st bully: “Do you want to see how I can hit him harder?” 2nd bully nods

1st bully: slap “This is how you hit hard, turn your face to the other side, my hand is hurting!” slap “This is how you hit hard” slap “This is how you hit hard” slap “This is how you hit hard” slap “This is how you hit hard”

2nd bully turns back to a boy: “Do you want to hit him?”

1st bully: “I’ll hit him for you”

Boy in the back: “But you have to hit him really hard”

1st bully: “But do you want me to punch him or slap him?”

Boy in the back: “Punch”

1st bully: “I did that already”

Boy in the back: “Yep, but hit him again, hit him again or else I will be mad at him” … 1st bully: “One two” 2nd bully slaps 1st bully: “One” 2nd bully slaps 1st bully: “One two” 2nd bully slaps 1st bully: “One” 2nd bully slaps 1st bully: “One” 2nd bully slaps 1st bully: “One” 2nd bully slaps

Girl in the back: “careful, there’s people passing by”

1st bully: “Ok let’s start again” slap “One two three” slap “One two three” slap”One two three” slap etc etc

1st bully: “I feel like punching him now, you disgust me” Then they start talking about something about the kid messing on some friends relationship and they laugh at him

Girl in the back: “(name of the boy in the back) you should hit him, I know you want to”

1st bully: “One, two three” punch “One, two three” punch

Boy in the back: Does your hand hurt?

1st bully: “Not alot, one, two three” punch “One, two three” punch “One, two three” punch punch punch punch “Now I need to rest, my hand is hurting me”

Then they talk a bit, the 1st bully punches him on the chest and kicks him in the groin..The bullied asks her to stop.

1st bully: “Grab his hands”

Bullied: “STOP” and then he curses

1st bully: “Don’t talk to me like that” slap punch

Then the boy starts to fight the bullied apparently out of camera. They stop. Then they fetch him a glass of water for some sick reason and because they want to hit him more… The the 1st bully punches him one last time and goes away…

This is one of the most disgusting translations I’ve ever did…

Crazy bitch tip: do not gang up on someone and slap, punch, and/or kick them because that’s extremely cowardly.

Crazy bitch says what?

11 Apr An overly attached girlfriend meme with the caption: if you try to leave me, I'll punch myself in the face and tell the cops you did it.

An overly attached girlfriend meme with the caption: if you try to leave me, I'll punch myself in the face and tell the cops you did it.Crazy bitch tip: If the only way you can keep your guy around is by threatening to frame him for domestic violence, the relationship is already over and you’re acting like a fucking head case.

Parenting: you’re doing it wrong;

2 Mar

I don’t have kids, so it’s fair to say I’m not the best person to go around judging anyone for how they parent their children. Then again, there are some parents out there who do such an impressively bad job of it that it’s tough not to think they should probably know better.

For instance, a Florida woman sent her daughter to school wearing this home made shirt:

the shame shirtIn case you can’t read it, it says:

My name is [blanked out]
I Currently Have All F’s
IN ALL OF My Classes. I AM
NOt aloud to have A boyfriend
No tiMe Soon. So back OFF before
I get another good WOOPIN like
I got last Night. Also I can NO
longer have ANY Friends until
All OF My F’s Are All Brought
Up to C’s And UP!!!

I was going to do that [sic] thing to point out that I’m knowingly reproducing grammatical errors, but if I put one of those in at every error, the quote would have gone on for miles, [sic] to the whole damned thing, ok?

In addition to this mother’s efforts to publicly shame her child by forcing her to wear this shirt, the woman was not kidding about the ‘Woopin’ she mentioned, and her daughter was covered in black and blue marks.

According to Hernando County Sheriff’s Department spokeswoman Denise Moloney, “She beat the child with a belt, and the belt had some sort of metal on it.”

Like I said, I’m not a parent, but… I reckon there are a few key aspects of being a parent that even I can point out as good and/or bad approaches.

For example, one responsibility as a parent is to protect your child. This woman from Florida seems to get the gist of this concept but is failing in the execution of it. See, I think it’s pretty obvious that the mother’s rationale is that by beating the crap out of her daughter and sending her to school in an humiliating shirt, she’s protecting the young girl from bad influences and trying to help her focus on her schooling.

The problem is, the mother has actually caused more harm to her daughter in the process of trying to protect her, than ever would have occurred if the girl failed out of school completely. Being beaten by one of the two people in the world you expect to protect you from beatings is a pretty rough thing to go through. The beating itself is painful, but it’s the memories of your protector causing you to suffer so badly that really lingers.

The public shaming aspect is off the mark too. Sure, this mother wanted to bring home the point that her daughter hasn’t been doing the best she can. Clearly it was important to the mother that her child take on board that schooling is important and that  failing out of all her classes is unacceptable, but, publicly humiliating a child at school is not a good way to encourage her to want to go to school.

So, those are the thoughts of someone who doesn’t have kids, but what do I know?

Well, I do know that the local sheriffs office has arrested the mother for child abuse, so I guess my whole “don’t beat and humiliate your children” thing is somewhat in line with the way they think. Here’s the mugshot of the woman alleged of these actions.author of shirt

Crazy bitch tip: do not beat and humiliate your children, even if they’re not doing as well at school as you’d like.

Rape culture: a male perspective

28 Feb

I watched a video today in which ‘Rape culture’ was discussed and I’d like to share it with you.

In the video, Clementine Ford discusses her thoughts on the subject of cultural acceptance of rape within society. Ms Ford refers to the socially accepted norms regarding rape as Rape Culture.

Rape Culture infographic

I don’t thinks she’s crazy, I just think she lacks perspective

First off, let me say that I don’t think that Ms Ford is crazy, nor a bitch. I don’t think she’s wrong but neither do I think she’s entirely right. I do think, however, that Ms Ford is lacking perspective. “WHOAH! WHOAH! WHOAH!”, I hear you say. I understand that I’m walking on thin ice as a man daring to attempt to discuss this topic, but please don’t break the pitch forks and torches out just yet.

When I suggest that Ms Ford is lacking perspective, I’m not suggesting her opinion is invalid, and I’m definitely not suggesting in any way that there’s not a huge societal issue in regards to the amount of unwanted sexual contact happening against women around the world. Sexual assault has impacted my family, so I’m no stranger to the damage it causes.

What I’m saying is that Ms Ford is looking at some undeniable evidence and coming up with sensible, but inaccurate, hypothesis because her analysis lacks an understanding of the other gender involved.

I’ll freely admit that there is a lot I don’t understand about women, but at least I’m aware of that and I’m not suggesting that all women are after the same things or driven by the same factors. From the video above, I’m not so sure that Ms Ford understands that different men have different reasons for their behaviour, or that the majority of us aren’t directly or indirectly continuing or encouraging ‘rape culture’.

Rape is really shit and shouldn’t happen

Rape is unconscionable. Rapists should go to jail. Nobody deserves to be raped and rape should not be accepted in any way by a modern, civilised society. There should be no question about any of this and anyone who believes rape of any form is justified in any way is misguided to the point of being a danger to society. Ms Ford and I both agree that society should move towards an ideal point at which every woman would be able to work anywhere she pleases, at any time, day or night, and not have to factor in the possibility of being raped.

If we were purely talking about the casual acceptance of rape within society, I don’t have anything to say against that sentiment. There’s definitely room for improvement as far as educating people about the horrible impact of unwanted sexual contact. The number of people, not only girls, who are sexually abused by immediate family members, extended family members, family friends, and peers, is truly a travesty. It’s a huge problem and a blight on otherwise progressive societies. It’s an issue that needs to be addressed and resolved as quickly as possible because lives are constantly being ruined by this insidious behaviour.

But that’s not what Ms Ford is talking about. Ms Ford is discussing the idea that a woman should be able to do whatever she wants, whenever, and wherever she wants, without any fear of potentially being sexually assaulted. Ms Ford is blaming society for casually accepting rape as the root cause for women not currently being able to enjoy her idealised utopic scenario.

Reality

I’m all for being an idealist and working towards that ideal, but we can’t just ignore reality.

The reality is that not only women and girls get raped. The reality is that a lot of rapes could have been avoided with better decision making. The reality is that blaming people who never have and never would rape anyone for the small number of people who do commit rape is not productive. The reality is that the term rape refers to a specific type of sexual assault and is not an appropriate term for all forms of sexual assault. The reality is that ‘rape culture’ is a massive oversimplification of an enourmously complex topic and it’s doing as much harm as good.

Statements like:

“I do think it’s an act of terrorism to raise girls to believe that the world is not safe for them”
Clementine Ford

are unnecessarily inflammatory. This sort of hyperbolic speech is not helpful, it is so exaggerated that it’s alienating. I personally find it very difficult to take someone seriously when they say things which are so over the top.

It is not an act of terrorism to teach a girl, or a boy, to be cautious about the company they keep and the situations in which they choose to engage. That’s called education. It’s important a child’s survival. We might all want the world to be a safe place, but it doesn’t matter how much we want it to be, the world is not a safe place. To teach children otherwise only makes them more likely to be impacted by the dangers which do exist in the world.

If I had a daughter and I chose not to teach her to be afraid to climb into the lion cage at the zoo, and then she climbs in and gets eaten, I did a bad job educating her to the dangers of the world. If I had a son and I didn’t teach him to be afraid of falling off cliffs, and he later tumbles to his death, I did a bad job of educating him to the dangers of the world.

It’s essential to educate everyone that not everyone they meet will have their best interests at heart. It is essential to educate people that some situations are dangerous, and best avoided. It’s essential to educate people to understand that becoming intoxicated makes them less capable of protecting themselves from those people who don’t have their best interests at heart.Sexual assault is not a gender issue

One of the things that really gets to me about the people who talk about rape culture is, they so often speak of it as if it’s a men versus women thing. Men suffer from this blight on society too. Men get raped, usually as children, but also as fully grown men. The rape of men within prison systems is a known, ignored and mocked part of our zeitgeist. Not only are men often victims of sexual assaults, men also have to help pick up the pieces after someone they love is sexually assaulted, and yet we constantly see quotes like:

Tell_men_not_to_rape

Don’t tell women what not to wear TELL MEN NOT TO RAPE

Hang on, let’s think about that for a second.

Does anyone really think most men don’t know they shouldn’t rape people? Honestly? Because I don’t find that when I’m out walking with my girlfriend that I spend the majority of my time fending off would be rapists and having to explain that they shouldn’t be trying to rape people. No, the people who don’t understand that are… wait for it… FUCKING RAPISTS.

And by the way, why are so many people assuming that only men commit sexual assaults? If the point is to do everything we, as a society, can to minimise sexual misconduct, why are we pointing the finger at half the population and assuming they’re all rapists based purely on their gender? Why are we assuming that the other half of the population has zero responsibility purely because of their gender?

That’s what’s fucked up about all this. That men are universally being labeled as rapist monsters who are just waiting to rape and that women are universally being labeled as victims in waiting. That is complete and utter bullshit! Sure, a higher percentage of sexual assaults are enacted by males than females, but does that reduce the impact on the male victims? Hell no.

So instead of making the issue of ‘rape’ a gender issue, how about we address as a problem that is actively ruining the lives of millions of people? How about not trying to point the finger at anyone with a cock and balls and instead just pointing the finger at rapists?

Remember how sexism is bad when it’s against women? It’s just as bad when it’s against men. It’s not reverse-sexism, it’s just sexism.

Consider your audience

‘And he often says to me, “Can we just make it through one dinner where you don’t talk about rape?”
To which I reply, “Can we just make it through one of the Earth’s rotations around the sun where i can walk on the street with as much right to safety as you, just because you have a penis?”

‘ – Clementine Ford, speaking about her boyfriend

You know what the absolute best way is to make someone lose any interest in, and compassion for, a subject? Bombard them with it incessantly until they couldn’t care any more even if they wanted to.

Ms Ford’s boyfriend is clearly going to be on her side about the whole ‘let’s not rape people’ thing, otherwise he wouldn’t be her boyfriend, right? So I’m going to assume he’s not raping her, is extremely unlikely to have raped anyone in the past, or to rape anyone in the future. So why won’t Ms Ford listen to her boyfriend’s request to make it through one dinner without talking about rape?I believe the answer is simple. Ms Ford is misunderstanding who her audience is. She is preaching to the choir, so to speak, but she’s doing it to the point that even the choir doesn’t want to hear about it anymore.Constantly reasserting the facets of our culture which contribute to casual acceptance of rape and a lack of empathy towards victims is, I believe, actually detrimental to the cause of raising awareness. This is because the only people who are actually listening in the first place are the ones who already have enough human decency to understand that rape is a problem. Barking the same lines at those decent human beings over and over will only lead to them running out of care factor.

That might be a horrible fact to acknowledge, but I absolutely believe it’s the truth. Think about it… people lose interest in international tragedies in which thousands of people have died, within weeks, if not days of the disasters. Why would the term Rape Culture not also become something that people begin to tune out?

Blame

One of the aspects of the rape culture movement that I think has been a benefit to society is the effort to identify victim blaming and to provide valid and indisputable counter arguments.

There is no excuse to rape someone and I hope that bringing that to the attention of people will help to reassure anyone who has been sexually assault to stop making allowances and/or excuses for their attackers and instead go and report them to the authorities. Anything that increases the legitimate prosecution of sexual predators is a good thing.

What’s not a good thing is confusing blame, with logic.

To point out that you’re less likely to get raped if you stay at home in your own bed completely sober, than going to a frat party and getting drunk out of your mind and using every drug you can find is not an effort towards blaming a victim, it’s stating a fact. There’s no denying that women do get raped in their beds at home, but the frequency with which that occurs is much lower than the incidences of sexual assaults at parties in which young women are consuming large quantities of alcohol and narcotics.

Pointing out a fact is not the same as blaming the victim.

To suggest that it’s a bad idea for an attractive young woman to go to a drug and alcohol fueled party being hosted by a group of young men who are used to getting away with everything, and then get drunk and use drugs there, is a bad idea… that’s not blaming the young woman, that’s just being rational.

To tell that same young girl the day after the party that she was raped by those young men would be far worse than telling her not to go in the first place.

Yes, there are people out there in the world who would say to that rape victim that she was “asking for it”, and that’s fucked up, but it’s also ridiculous to pretend that she couldn’t have made better decisions.

That image above stating “Don’t tell women what not to wear, Tell men not to rape” isn’t very helpful, and it’s an example of the black and white thinking which pollutes sensible thinking about how to reduce sexual assaults. For starters, teaching men not to rape does not preclude us from also teaching women what attire might draw unwanted attention.

No, I didn’t just say that if a woman should be raped if she is wearing the wrong clothes. What I did say was that some clothes draw the wrong attention. Walking through the wrong areas also increases the likelihood of receiving unwanted attention. Being overly flirtatious also increases the likelihood of receiving unwanted attention. Again, I’m not saying that any of that is ok, I’m just saying that’s what happens.

So, instead of assuming that I’m assigning blame, how about considering if there’s a potential benefit to avoiding unwanted attention?

I’m a guy who is 190cm (6’3″) tall, currently weighing in at 90kg (200lbs), and I try to avoid unwanted attention. I do so because, even though I know it’s illegal for someone to stab me, and even though I don’t like that society hasn’t completely eliminated stabbings, I’d still prefer to avoid situations in which I know I’m more likely to be stabbed. I’m not going to assume that anytime I walk through a neighbourhood renowned for gang violence late at night that I’m going to get stabbed, but I am going to assume that the chances of me being stabbed go up if I do choose to go there.

If I did get stabbed after wandering through a place known for gang violence, don’t you think that someone might just ask me what the fuck I was doing there? Would that be insensitive as all shit? OF COURSE! But does that make the question any less reasonable? Unfortunately, no.

We don’t have to like the truth. We don’t have to stop pushing towards the ideal world we all dream of, where we’ll all be safe all the time, but we do have to accept that there are certain things we can do to help protect ourselves from things we don’t want to happen to us.

None of this is excusing the actions of any sexual predator. I’d be in favour of castrating those pieces of shit who commit rape and other sexual crimes, but seeing your rapist punished is not nearly as good as avoiding being raped in the first place.

Focus

Like I said at the start, Ms Ford isn’t wrong, I just think she doesn’t understand the male side of the story. Pretending that rape is something that only happens to women and that every man is a rapist in waiting is so far from the truth that it’s offensive. It’s also offensive to pretend that women play no role in their own protection.

I don’t want women to live in fear, but I don’t think they should be so foolish as to pretend there aren’t dangerous people out in the world.

What people can do to massively impact the affect of rapists on society is to press charges against them, and I believe that is the most important thing to focus on. By reporting sexual assaults the perpetrator is more likely to be put in prison, and therefore more likely to be unable to assault anyone else.

I also think it’s essential to educate people about the situations in which sexual assaults occur, and how best to avoid being in those situations. I think it’s hugely important that people separate ‘blaming victims’ from analysing data and making useful suggestions based on the findings.

As for Ms Ford

I have no doubt Ms Ford is generating beneficial results already, even with a slightly askew take on things, I just hope she broadens her understanding of the issue of sexual assault. It’s obvious that Ms Ford’s heart is in the right place, and I believe that’s true of most women who are so vocal about ‘rape culture’.

Human being tip: If anyone has ever sexually assaulted you, it’s not your fault in any way. If you can handle the stress of reporting them, please do so.

ps: You might be interested in reading about how I dealt with an alcohol fueled, sexually charged situation, which I discuss in the Origins series.

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