Wrath

Herself speaks.

Although I would like very much to do so, I am unable to write properly about the Kavanaugh hearings this week.

The degree of rage held by Womankind is tremendous. Justifiably so.

We are no longer able or willing to blame ourselves for, hide, or dismiss the casual atrocities we have experienced over our collective lifetimes.

I am one of the extremely lucky ones -- my stories are mild, relatively speaking; my moments of discomfort and danger pale in comparison to those of Christine Blasey Ford and of countless other women. It is unthinkable, the abuse and assaults that they have had to process and accept as part of their personal history; the disbelief and slander, the shame and frustration and criticism. So many wrongs, never put right.

I find myself looking back and realizing that I was not as angry previously as I should have been at things that once happened. I am re-evaluating so many experiences, and am looking at the impact of my self-blame and my assumption of responsibility for the actions and feelings of Men. It is terrible. Draining. Enraging.

I own my actions, let there be no doubt. I will no longer, however, own the actions of others.

I feel unsafe. And I am angry not only on my behalf, but even more so on behalf of women who have experiences that have been, until this week, unspeakable. We know, too, that there are so many others who carry scars from events that may forever remain unspeakable for them. And the worst part is, we all know these things will continue, because of how Humanity is.

Nevertheless: perhaps this cumulative rage may make a dent in the Ways of the World.

We can hope.