When our moral integrity is compromised, even very slightly, we fight believing it and calling it by its public name because it is dangerous to make public we’ve been wounded and made into an object; however kind and supportive others may be by our admitting to the world being humanly reduced to your underlying animality, i.e., to meat; the bull in the bullfight knows too well how a public display of weakening can be collectively exciting. Admitting the fact of mortality as a victim of a wrongful expression of another’s sexual desire, display of dominance, the show of the real “stuff” in the right-stuff, exposes us to being taken to be a scrafice, the unfortunate road-kill of being delivered to an imperfect world. In the same way we refuse to imagine our own death as a possibility, we risk even the smallest brush with social death as well since it’s no less bloody, but you face living on with the torture of knowing you’ve been the object, in the case of sexual assault or enslavement or being made a side-show freak, of an intentional act of inhuman mistreatment.
In a word, QuoteSqueeze, most abused women (or men), slaves and slave decendents, and side-show freaks hide away the wounded animal behind their skins unspoken, often until the calming grave which takes all pain away forever. Electing to not make public a Trump pussy grab, locker-room, one of the guys, acts at one point in time is a different matter entirely when the abuser seeks to make himself one’s leader. Casting a vote is an act of commission and it commits us to what we will allow to accept as Reality. Your thinking probably pleases a certain crowd, not me.