Careful how you ask for things... (Fable)

Blustering in through an open window beside her, the wind brought a chill to the back of her neck. Leaning over to close the window she remarked "Boy it's getting chilly out these days." to the dog warming her feet. Looking back she could remember it was only a month ago she'd been in that field with the air so still and the hot afternoon sun blazing down on her. Then she had been asking the universe to please send her a cooling breeze. "Took you long enough!" She thought to the universe. "Guess I should have been more specific on when I wanted the wind with my request that day, huh?"

© A. Bougie 10/19/2017

Written from a writing prompt on the element AIR presented by the lovely and talented writer  Victoria Erickson.

#MeToo - My experiences with Sexual Assault

This is a picture of what I looked like the first time I was raped. Three boys in my neighborhood repeatedly from when I was 5 til I was 8 would bring me into the woods, force me to strip and let them do things to me. I told my mom a few times but she didn't believe me. She said I couldn't know what I was talking about, I was too young to know what sex was. I was confused and embarrassed so I stopped bringing it up. It didn't stop happening though until the oldest boys' family moved away.

When I was in 6th and 7th grade, living in a different town, I was followed repeatedly by two boys. They made me feel unsafe saying lurid comments and doing creepy things like leaving clay penises they made on my porch. So I didn't go out in my neighborhood. My mom believed me then, she called the cops on them once.

At the age of 15 I was raped twice. The first one I reported. However because I knew the person who assaulted me (it was a friends cousin) even though I was 15 and he was 18 making it statutory rape they told me it was only 'unlawful sexual contact.' They said that at most he would get one night in jail and then have it on his record forever. So the police refused to pursue the case.

In ways I felt as violated by the legal dismissal of my trauma as I did from being raped. It was so hard then to try to tell strangers what had happened, only to have them basically say it didn't matter. That what happened to me wasn't as bad as a pock on the perpetrators' record would be for him. This coming from the people who were supposed to keep us safe, and whose job it was to serve justice to those that hurt others and broke the law.

After that I didn't report the second rape, which happened one night when I got drunk at a friends house with a broken door. I blacked out drunk and passed out in the living room, everyone else there went to bed as well. I awoke to one of the neighbors (who had not been drinking with us that evening) from across the street finishing in me, he had come in through the unlockable door. I didn't drink for years after that, and still take it slower than most folks when I do now.

Thankfully I have not been assaulted since, but these memories do not just go away. They sit in the background of my mind and occasionally surface reminding me that I might not be safe. Now I do my best to not let those experiences inhibit me. I will never be free of them though. I can only hope that sharing this story along with the other brave women who have lived to tell their tales will start to open up the type of discussions that might make a boy or man think twice before choosing to use force in order to have his way with a woman or girl without consent.

#MeToo #NoMeansNo #AlwaysSeekConsent #ListenToYourDaughters #RapeIsRape #TeachYourSons 
#TimeForChange #ConsentIsSexy #PutAHaltToSexualAssault

© A. Bougie (10/17/2017)

Daddy Issues

I was told that I must have Daddy issues recently as an insult by someone who did not know me, or that my Father died less than a year ago of cancer. The insult was directed toward my freedom with my nudity. The message stated that no lady showed their ass and tits on the internet, that I was a slut who must have Daddy issues because of it. Well, I do have Daddy issues. My comfortableness with nudity however has nothing to do with my Father.

My Mother, God rest her soul (cigarettes are bad, mmmkay?) told me when I was younger that she didn’t believe she was pretty when she was young. That one of her regrets when she got older and became ill was that she didn’t believe in herself or appreciate how beautiful she was. She told me that I was beautiful, that I should believe it and appreciate it. That so long as I remembered the person I was inside and didn’t compromise my morals she saw no reason for me not to show my body.

Therefore to honor both my Mother and myself- I do, the best way I know how. I could give a damn what others think of me and how I choose to navigate my life in such regards. If people want to be so shallow as to read this book only by its’ cover they can go on thinking I’m a slut for not being ashamed of my nudity. Quite honestly, I’ve found that showing my tits and ass can be a magnificent way to easily weed out the folks whose interests go no deeper than my outer curves.

My Daddy issues are different. They correspond to how I have navigated myself through my past relationships, and the behavior I have allowed from men that I have sustained relations with. My Father never showed much interest in my creative endeavors. He never told me he really believed I could accomplish my goals and dreams; for years he told me I’d never be anything better than a burger flipper. My Dad did not get into deeper conversations with me when avoidable; and would go into fits of loud anger if I attempted to prod him into talking about an unsavory subject. He wasn’t demonstrative with affection and never called me just to say hello or hope my day went well. I couldn’t get my Father to come to my graduation for my architecture and engineering degree, or to one of the three music festivals I put my time, heart and lifetime savings into; though I learned my love of music from him. He wouldn’t even come to my house twenty minutes away for a barbecue. *

Subconsciously because of this I have allowed men into my life who did not support me in the ways I needed. I let it slide when boyfriends avoided touchy subjects with angry outbursts. I believed that I wasn’t worthy of the love and affection I longed for. So I tried harder to make up for it, and put my own needs aside to go the extra distance for people who would not go out of their way for me.

 It has taken some time reflecting to come to these realizations, and I am still working on how to effectively act upon them. Thankfully though, I now know I deserve no less love than I give. That I am worthy of having my needs met, and that includes a relationship where the energy shared is equally reciprocal and of genuine substance. I hope that someday someone will want to walk beside and snuggle me, to help and be helped through tribulations. Someone who offers mutual respect, appreciation and support for making our individual and shared dreams come true. In the meanwhile, I will continue to believe in myself and strive toward manifesting my goals; as I also deserve that self-love.

*My Dad was super awesome none-the-less and I still love him more than I can properly explain. He could always be counted on to be there for me in an emergency, and loved me whole-heartedly in his own way. As he would have said “I love you, just not all of the things you do.”

© A. Bougie (10/13/2017)