By Ricey Wild
I’m feeling a lot of anxiety right now – of trauma, fear and flashbacks of my own sexual assaults – watching the Kavanaugh hearing of testimony by Dr. Christine Blasey Ford. I’m feeling a lot of anxiety right now. Speaking for my own self, any cue or trigger can bring up the violent, horrific acts committed upon my helpless female body. I reported my rape and nothing was done.
How Christine channeled her courage to come forward to tell her story that has changed her entire life’s path is phenomenal and in my opinion not to be dismissed. Not now, not ever.
Understand I am no political pundit, nor do I have any credentials that would impress anyone who cares, but I am a woman who deserves respect. We all do when we are courageous enough to tell our stories about sexual assault. Dr. Ford has nothing to gain by testifying other than telling her truth to the American people. Kavanaugh, along with he who nominated him, have no place in the highest offices of the United States of America. Make no mistake: we are in the fight of our lives for our democracy like no other time recorded.
The nomination of Kavanaugh is the most absurd (whiny, crying, snuffling little privileged needs a roll of paper towels to wipe up the croc tears) candidate ever in white peoples’ history. Hint: He wrote a paper that sitting Presidents cannot be indicted while in office. HELLOOOOO???
Do not be distracted, that’s what The Man wants. 45 wants a sycophant in office when he is eventually indicted. That’s what this is about or 45 could just do us all a favor and defect to Russia, to welcoming prostitutes who will accommodate his perversions. Yes, I wrote that and I stand by it.
Because I spend so much time alone, albeit with Mitzi and the Katz, I am left to my thoughts and memories.
Today I visited my Ole Gramma Rose and we had a great time. I usually cook something up special but instead I was like…aghh!!! I made Hamburger Helper and brought some treats, too. Rose was so appreciative and we had laughed and laughed, telling stories calling up our friend Edna. I am a fortunate woman and I love and appreciate those who tell me that I’m important to them and others. Bless yooz. I feel the same way.
Now if we have family and friends who mean that much to us we have to be able to extend that empathy to others we don’t know but identify with and share similar experiences. You matter. We all deserve better than those old moldy suits that think they are the arbiters of what women need for our own health and family choices. Vote!
Some ten years ago I got an email from a woman named Jo. We have been friends ever since and she recently left Brooklyn, NY to go to her high school reunion and thought it would be nice to visit me here in Rezberry on route to Montana. Of course, I was excited and thought she gave me a month’s heads up, and my friends were right here who cleaned up greasy rez-idue so I wouldn’t be embarrassed for Jo’s visit, and her not having to wear a face mask. LOL! I like to think I’m messy but not a slob. It turns out that’s a relative term. Who knew?
About two weeks ago I was in Wal-Boogit and an older white woman stopped me. She said that I am “stunning” and I so loved that compliment that I lifted all my chins and went about being stunning for the rest of the day. Later I went outside to my bitty back porch, when it was still 80 degrees, and when I sat down my Powwow chair collapsed under me. I was trapped. I tried getting out by rocking but…nope. There was no way out until I called 911.
Two hot firemen showed up and tried not to laugh. I asked if they were able to heft me and they did like I was a baby. One of them picked up a kid chair, dusted it off and then offered it to me to sit on. I heard both of them chortling when the left.
Pretty sure my traumatic experience was a laugh at the station house. I went from being ‘stunning’ to being stunned. I’m okay with that. I laugh at me, too. Except I hurt again. Having written the above; I heart that we all give ourselves an empathic break. Ima gonna sleep-n-sleep-n-regenerate so’s I can go on.
It’s like my Unk Gene always said: Be good to yourself, you are needed. Lorri.
