Just finished watching the Sean Combs documentary on Netflix and it has me feeling some type of way, stacked on top of the national discourse around the Epstein files.

Sexual violence is so damn pervasive, from the top of society to the bottom. I was raped repeatedly (by family & non-family) growing up and knew of it happening to others often too. We were all shit poor and the norm was to brush it all under the rug, pressured to ignore and operate business as usual. I hated having to hug/greet my rapist(s) at family events.

I used to think this culture of silence was endemic to latino or low-income families, a way to avoid accountability, keep masculine/manly identities intact, or keep everything from falling apart since shit was hard enough already. I remember CPS was called on my behalf when I went to (middle) school one day with belt bruises all over my body, and that was exactly what I was told to do by my abuser, to say everything was alright otherwise I would be breaking up the family and ruining all of our lives. So I did, CPS never came back, and nothing changed for me/us.

But the documentary and the files just make it so clear that this culture of silence happens at all levels, just through different pressures. The documentary highlighted some of those: the difficulty for men to speak up and name sexual violence done to them, one said she kept quiet about all the behind-the-scenes craziness "for the culture" believing Combs was uplifting hip hop, the various mechanisms that plant doubts about the reality of the assault in the victims mind (like easy access to & distribution of debilitating and memory-erasing drugs), and the silencing power of the promise of access to money and elite networks.

I came out publicly about my history of rape in April 2016. Back then, I was an anxious mess just sharing that info, took me forever to click the publish button. No consequences came from it to my main abuser (still running around the ruining lives of the people who stuck by him), but I was definitely psychologically released from the weight of carrying it. Now I can talk about it freely and matter-of-factly, and I won't go back into that closet.

I guess I felt compelled to write this quick blog to help me name a feeling I had: I'm glad these current events are bringing all this to light in a very public way. No more silence. After finally saying it and naming it/them out loud, justice may not always happen, but it does get easier.