Years back I nearly got up and walked out of a church in the middle of a service. I was a visitor to an employee’s church and the Preacher had just said that if a woman walks around in shorts and a tank top, she deserves for men to violate her.
I was drop dead appalled that anyone would say such a thing. Yes, I 100% believe in modesty, but shorts and a tank top? You should know I was visiting a church who’s members women wore long skirts, 3/4 sleeves, and never cut their hair or wore make-up. (I certainly stuck out).
I didn’t walk out because I didn’t want to embarrass my very beloved employee (she’s the best I ever had, to date), but I still to this day remain angry when anyone suggests a victim is at fault.
This (Right Here) Victim’s Fault
I suppose I reserve all the blame for myself. I was a victim as a teen, someone I didn’t know, took my virginity. I blame myself. Why? Because I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be and I was drinking.
I don’t like talking about it. But I know if I 1. Had been where I told my mom I was going to be, or 2. Not been drinking, then it would never had happened. Honestly, I think no matter what anyone says will make me ever feel like it wasn’t my fault. It’s a belief that’s been stuck in my head for… well over 2 decades.
The thing is, if I tell anyone that I believe such things, they are obviously going to try to convince me it’s not my fault and help me see the light.
This is one of my truths. Like I know for a fact there is a God (my God), that is a truth for me, that offers no doubt in the slightest. My rape as a teen being my fault is one of my truths. It’s just something that I *know*.
It hurts my heart a little that I feel this way. Because I think that if I do, then surely someone else might too? But, as strongly as I feel my own assault was my fault, I feel just as strongly for every victim out there that it is never their fault.
But, it is what it is.
The Obsessively Anxious 