Don’t Let It Happen Again
It’s now or never, friends. I wanted to share this after the last Presidential debate, but honestly, I was too scared to do it. What will they think? What will they say? Some of them will run away and never read another word I write. I don’t talk politics on my blog! I’m ashamed I was scared because of those reasons, but that’s the truth. Well, y’all. I have to write this before it’s too late.
Recently, I made a public disclosure about inadvertently discovering the person who molested me as a child, the person who haunted my life until that moment, the person whose choice still wakes me up at night in a cold sweat, desperately fighting to know I am safe. I’m battling the aftershocks of that discovery. The triggers that come along with it, but what triggers the PTSD I’ve had for years and years is not something I can escape now.
Every time I see Donald Trump on television, hear his name spoken, think of him, I am molested all over again. I’m right back in that place, a little girl who was defiled. My thighs are sore and bruised. I’m left breathless and broken, not only by Donald Trump who has harassed and harmed young women, but by my American brothers and sisters who would consider electing him. How did it come to this? How can someone’s money and business credentials outweigh his treatment of women?
At first, I thought it must only be me. The discovery of my molester must be too new. That’s why Donald Trump is a constant trigger. I stumbled upon other women speaking in these same terms, identifying Donald Trump as a trigger for the sexual molestation, rape, and violence they survived. They relive every moment of the violation as he gives another speech, when another news story is played, when another friend gives a passionate defense of him on social media. Knowing other women feel as I do isn’t a relief, it’s confirmation I have to speak up. We’ve spent too many years together, friends, for me not to tell you that this is a reality.
For over a month now, I’ve had to take a medication to help me cope. My doctor described what’s happening as having my nervous system on fire. I startle easily. I can’t write outside at night, because I fear noises in my woods, my beloved woods. I jump when my dogs bark and get nervous when I hear a door open. I don’t like having my back to the door. I feel unsafe again. The nightmares bleed over into my days. I sit here with all of this, knowing the real horror is, my brothers and sisters may elect this man to be our president.
When I discovered the man who molested me, I told my sister I suspected it was him, but I never knew for sure. You know what she said? She said, “Beth, everyone knew. We all knew.” They knew it happened. And the terrible thing is, we all know this about Donald Trump. We know who he is. We know what he’s said and done and yet, we leave our daughters unprotected, just as I was.
I find Donald Trump abhorrent for a multitude of reasons, but this… this is not something I can remain silent about for fear of losing readers. I must share this with you now, on the eve of election day, before it’s too late to speak my piece. You may have a litany of reasons why you feel he is the best candidate to be our Commander and Chief, but know this. All I can think about is how he once said about a little girl walking by him, “I’ll be dating her in ten years.” All I can think about is the alleged rape of a 13 year old girl. All I can think of are the countless words he’s spoken in complete contempt of women of all ages.
I see a predator when I look at Donald Trump, someone with whom I would never leave my own children. Not even for a mi
nute. Would you, friends? Just ask yourself that question. As mothers and fathers, would you leave your little girls in a room with this man given the things he’s said and done? I know, I know. He’s not up for election to be my kids’ babysitter. He’s just being considered for the highest office in the country. Donald Trump’s behavior is already making an impact on the culture in which our children live. Little boys hear the things Donald Trump says. They see what he does. And it must be okay, because Mom and Dad are supporting him. Locker room talk, they call it. It’s okay to talk about violating women. Boys will be boys.
“I moved on her like a bitch. I couldn’t get there and she was married. Then all-of-a-sudden I see her, she’s now got the
big phony tits and everything. She’s totally changed her look… Yeah that’s her with the gold. I better use some Tic Tacs just in case I start kissing her. You know I’m automatically attracted to beautiful… I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star they let you do it. You can do anything…Grab them by the pussy. You can do anything.“
I know this opens me up for dismissal, for hate, for abandonment by readers who have been faithful for many years. I know this will mean some of you will rush to defend Donald Trump or call me crazy for thinking and feeling the way I do. Or maybe it won’t make a difference at all. The thought of opening up my little corner of the internet to the vitriol I read elsewhere is cringe worthy, but I can’t remain silent. I’m not only protecting myself, I’m protecting my children.
Tomorrow, when I go to cast my vote, I’ll have to see his name there. The thought of going to my p
olling place fills me with the same dread I feel when I pass by the town where the man who molested me lives. When I vote this year, I won’t only be exercising my right, acting on my responsibility as a citizen of the most powerful country in the world, I’ll be facing a monster who sparks a visceral fear in my belly. Donald Trump is the thing that goes bump in the night. His name should have never been on that ballot.