So, you may or may not recall that, in my first post, I tried to give some dimension to my rapist. People forget that individuals who do things like that are real humans, and they do other things than just rape/steal/kill/whatever it is they do. They also laugh at pictures of LolCats and use Post-It Notes and get sick after eating leftover Thai food, and when people forget that they implicitly assume that nobody they know could rape/steal/kill because they see them through the cats-and-notes-and-food-poisoning lens. Because you never see the rapist in a movie flossing his teeth or having to bike all the way back to the 7-11 because he remembered to get eggs but not milk, you lose the ability to see past the normalcy of those actions into whatever very abnormal stuff might be going on. So, a drop in the bucket, I made the attempt to counter that with a few homey details about My Rapist.
Funny thing is, I think I sort of forgot to do the same for myself.
I mean, yes, this blog is about the before-during-and-after of sexual trauma, and so it makes sense that I’ve discussed exactly that. But I’ve done so running the risk that I’ll become yet another abstract, The Rape Girl, and again I’ll lose that human sense that this happened to a person, not some person on the internet.
So, here we go. Here are some little things about me to hopefully remind people that I’m more 3-D than maybe I’ve been made out to be so far. And I think in a way this is to remind me that I am about more than the rape; because some days, the opposite feels true.
Somehow, my wardrobe has evolved over the years such that about 80% of the clothing I own is either red or blue. Thus, it takes a lot of effort to avoid looking like I’m trying to dress as Superwoman.
I don’t really like most kinds of lettuce/spring mix/spinach, so generally my salads consist of basically a pile of weird vegetables and dressing.
I am wholly convinced that any multiple of three is my “lucky” number.
Despite being a math/economics major, I have serious issues with algebra due to switching schools a lot during the period where kids usually learn that stuff.
Almost all movie references go right over my head, since I rarely have the patience to sit through an entire film.
I nearly cried at the end of Portal 2, yet was unfazed by The Notebook.
Math and Spanish are the only two subjects I write in pencil for. Anything else, and the smudging drives me insane.
I’m a little bit obsessed with Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman series. #NoShame.
For whatever reason, I get extremely self-conscious if my socks are in any way visible.
I have bigger feet than most girls a full head taller than me.
I keep a pocket thesaurus on my desk, but I don’t think I’ve ever used it.
I still write letters to my grandparents every two weeks, and I put stickers on the envelope.
I have been told by more than one person that I look like Betty Boop.
I have an irrational fear of fish/anything aquatic, yet am completely fine with snakes and reptiles.
I don’t know how to end this post.
No, seriously. I don’t know what I’m expecting you to do with that information, except hope that it gets filed under the “WrongReaction is written by an actual person” folder and not the “WrongReaction is written by a victim” folder. I can’t offer most people much of anything, but I hope I can at least offer some evidence that rape doesn’t happen to Those People, it happens to People. Real people.