I’ve been trying to stay out of the political shit show that has enveloped us lately–it’s just too upsetting to believe that this is the state of our country (cliche though it sounds).
But, periodically, when I check my mother’s Facebook to see what she’s been up to, I see her post shit like this, and it genuinely hurts me.
The fact that she would condemn someone like Hillary (understandably), but advocate and stand by someone like Trump is just another example of the kind of home environment I was so anxious to leave. Blaming the victims for sexual assault, pardoning the men who commit it, and supporting someone who treats and talks about women like they are objects to be used up, broken and thrown away. It’s a sad statement about her core beliefs about herself, and why she married a man like my father. It is a system of beliefs that I still struggle with myself.
What would she have said when I was nearly date-raped 3 years ago? Probably something along the lines of “You shouldn’t have worn that shirt that hung low when you bent over,” or “I raised you better than to drink with a man and go home with him.”
After it happened, I was ashamed. Embarrassed. Certain that I would be blamed for my mistakes and the transgressions of a lustful individual who could not keep his hands to myself. I was afraid to tell my aunt what had happened, in case she blamed me, as well. I knew better, but I still messed up. I watched my drink, I paced myself, I turned down his advances, but things still ended up for the worse.
I genuinely don’t know if my mother would have been sympathetic, or condescending. It is for that reason (among many, many others) that I refuse to maintain contact with her today.