The Trial for my right as a woman
This was to be the day of reckoning, the day I had dreaded for so long. This day, I had feared since that dreadful night, it promised to be the day that I would be judged if not for anything else for being a woman. For this day alone I had opted to pretend nothing had happened to convince myself what had happened was ok and that I need not fuss over it. And yes when the day finally came, it did not disappoint judged I was more harshly than I had imagined. I asked myself but why, how did the roles turn so quickly. How was it that the hearing became about me defending myself from the shots that were fired at me. How is it that I was the one explaining myself, that I was the one trying to show that I was aggrieved even when the writing was on the wall. Well, they say the burden of proof lies with the accuser, but the evidence was clear and yet we took to debating hearsay and the thoughts of the spectators who had no idea of what was going on inside. How is it that hearsay overtook hard evidence.
How did we move from the fact that I was offended and start to pass judgment on whether I had the moral authority to be reporting the matter? How is it that the defendant didn’t get to defend himself against the charges but instead I was defending why I reported the matter.
How is it that a woman like me one who has seen and experienced the pain that this male inclined society afflicts on a woman, would stand there and pass judgment on me. More painful because she witnessed the incident but instead she tries to justify what he did. It was love he did it in the name of love. But does love seek to refrain, restrain and hurt? Is love a prison sentence? If it is then no I don’t want to be loved.
I must hand it to the guys though, bro code is definitely stronger than the sisterhood they will go under for one of their own. How else can I explain a seemingly rational gentleman or may I say assumed gentleman totally ignoring facts and instead trying at whatever cost to seek justification for his male counterpart.
But then again, how is it that after hearing all that was said, and knowing the truth, why do I blame myself. Why is it I who continues to weep, why is it I who has to justify herself? Why is it I who begins to doubt herself? Why is it I who is struggling to be heard in the room? How come no one puts him to task to explain why he did what he did? Why am I the one being asked to explain why he did what he did?
They say hell knows no fury like a woman scorned, and yet here I am retreating to a corner with tears in my eyes, with a heartbroken, a downcast spirit. You see why I didn’t want to go through with all this do you see I tell myself. Will, I stand up again and put myself to such scrutiny again. No, the answer is no, I will do what I have always done retreat to a corner and cry by yourself. If you can’t go to the corner cry inside.
Snap out of this I tell myself, you have a lot to focus on and this is spilled milk. But it’s a lot easier said than done. I still can’t understand why as women we always feel that if something happens to a woman she somehow had it coming. And yet for the guys, it’s simple either she had it coming or he was drunk we can’t hold that against him.
I listened to her justify everything he did and reduce my pain to mere whinings of a disgruntled ex-girlfriend and remembered the time she shared about how her teacher had harassed her. I wondered how she would have felt if I had said that it was her fault or that she provoked in a way. I wondered if she felt that in a way it was her fault.
Yes, I clearly understand why I never speak up. My reason is the ones’ who should stand with me, judge me instead. And somehow find a way to blame me for it and give me another reason for blaming myself which I was already doing anyway. So let me have just my reasons for blaming myself don’t give me more. No, I will not share my pain with you, I will keep it close to me. I will not let you give me one more reason to judge myself harshly am already doing that.
Am still in that corner with tears in my eyes, but I need to get up and face tomorrow. I need to open that trash can and put in all the trash that belongs there.
I am coming from a place where I was made to feel helpless by someone who had no power over me but who took advantage of his physical advantage to bring me to my knees. I bowed down head low like dog conceding defeat to a superior being. And why did he do oh it was in the name of love. Forgive me but that love I don’t desire to have.
Am coming from this cruel place where because he told them and they all thought it was a relationship, it was no matter what I say. It was one even though I never consented to it. Even though I took the time to clarify for him countless times that it was not, it was still one. But let’s turn the tables a little if I was the one claiming that we were in a relationship and everyone could apparently see it, and he said no he never consented to it. What would the all-wise everyone be saying, “Oh but why did she imagine they were in a relationship when he never told her. But why do women do that? Smile at her and she starts picking out wedding china. Oh, he slept her, oh come on just because a man sleeps with you doesn’t mean he is planning to marry you. No, my sisters unless he says it don’t assume.”
I thought I had escaped that world which judges us harshly for being women. I thought I was among the cream of society, the best society had to offer and that they looked beyond gender how wrong I was.
