Yup, my watershed moment was when I found out my rapist had died. He was an older man who I had always brushed off as a bad teenage experiment. I didn’t even realize how much fear and anger I had for him, until I heard through the grapevine that he had died. Suddenly, I was staring at my Facebook feed, seeing some mutuals posting about his death, and had tears welling up in my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but of shame and anger.
It was simultaneously emancipating and also enraging. I suddenly knew he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me again… Until then, I hadn’t even realized I was worried about that. I had been carrying an immense amount of shame as a result of the “he has probably done this to others, and will probably do it again in the future” train of thought. Everyone says victims should report so their rapists can’t hurt others, right? And since he was an openly gay older guy, I statistically would have had a higher chance of being believed, right? But reporting would require telling others about what had happened, and I couldn’t even imagine doing that.
But I also knew that since he was dead, he would never see justice for what he did to me (and likely others before and after). He was very wealthy, very well-connected in my local area, and he died comfortably in his own bed. None of which he deserved. Knowing he would be feted his wake was absolutely enraging, because he only deserved a cardboard box underneath the local prison.
It was also what eventually led to me realizing why I had historically been so homophobic. I was born and raised in a conservative area, so homophobia is just par for the course here. But I eventually realized that I had been projecting my fear and anger of him whenever I saw a gay couple in public. And that what he did to me wasn’t their fault. I had also been externalizing a lot of my own shame. Nowadays I’m a staunch ally, but it would have been extremely easy for me to simply dig my heels in and refuse to do any soul-searching. I was definitely the older lady in this comic for longer than I would like to admit. And I have an immense amount of respect for the victims who do come forward, because I know what kind of determination that would take.
![Realization [PizzaCake]](https://sh.itjust.works/pictrs/image/58eacea0-b255-4a2d-b579-35265a7cffee.png){kind=link}
Yup, my watershed moment was when I found out my rapist had died. He was an older man who I had always brushed off as a bad teenage experiment. I didn’t even realize how much fear and anger I had for him, until I heard through the grapevine that he had died. Suddenly, I was staring at my Facebook feed, seeing some mutuals posting about his death, and had tears welling up in my eyes. Not tears of sadness, but of shame and anger.
It was simultaneously emancipating and also enraging. I suddenly knew he wouldn’t be able to hurt anyone else, and he wouldn’t be able to hurt me again… Until then, I hadn’t even realized I was worried about that. I had been carrying an immense amount of shame as a result of the “he has probably done this to others, and will probably do it again in the future” train of thought. Everyone says victims should report so their rapists can’t hurt others, right? And since he was an openly gay older guy, I statistically would have had a higher chance of being believed, right? But reporting would require telling others about what had happened, and I couldn’t even imagine doing that.
But I also knew that since he was dead, he would never see justice for what he did to me (and likely others before and after). He was very wealthy, very well-connected in my local area, and he died comfortably in his own bed. None of which he deserved. Knowing he would be feted his wake was absolutely enraging, because he only deserved a cardboard box underneath the local prison.
It was also what eventually led to me realizing why I had historically been so homophobic. I was born and raised in a conservative area, so homophobia is just par for the course here. But I eventually realized that I had been projecting my fear and anger of him whenever I saw a gay couple in public. And that what he did to me wasn’t their fault. I had also been externalizing a lot of my own shame. Nowadays I’m a staunch ally, but it would have been extremely easy for me to simply dig my heels in and refuse to do any soul-searching. I was definitely the older lady in this comic for longer than I would like to admit. And I have an immense amount of respect for the victims who do come forward, because I know what kind of determination that would take.