Let’s Sweep Abuse under the Carpet!

Yes, that attitude has worked so well during the past couple of millennia, hasn’t it? Seems we, as a race, are only prepared to look at certain things when they involve celebrities getting in on the twisted, dark act.

But all this attention upon the Jimmy Saviles and Rolf Harrises of this world is giving a false impression: That being rich and famous and, in some of these abusers’ eyes, above the laws which govern lesser mortals, means that such people feel they have a right to take what they want from children and teenagers, in a way that normal, working people, of course, do not.

Anyone who abuses starts from a position of inner superiority, of entitlement, of seeing others as possessions, objects. The high profile cases involving the rich and spoilt are not actually opening the can of abusive worms up in any useful way. Why?Because we are so busy searching for (and, at some level, enjoying in a sick, ‘Thank God it wasn’t me being fondled!’ way) those who were fiddled about with in the dim and distant past by known perverts that we forget about the day-to-day abuse of those who have no voice, no power, no rights and no Name to attach their ongoing terror and pain to.

The legal system, which lets down thousands of abused people, suddenly finds the wherewithal to prosecute the Named. High Profile means High Turnover and is fabulous for business.

The Great and the Bad are exceptions, glittering advertisements for a show. They are the salacious, newsworthy side of abuse. They are Soap Opera. But, away from High Courts and the Famed Shamed, we have thousands of vulnerable people, many of them women and children, who are enduring horrific abuse every day – and, because they are not attractive, or wealthy, or talented, or, in many cases, articulate, we would rather they remained anonymous dirt under life’s Carpet of Secrets. We don’t care until they die in the public eye and become horrific statistics and tragic reconstructions on the television.

How is it that we have swallowed this, ‘If it is not High Drama, it is not abuse?’ crap? Do victims have to be buried in forest glades, on life support in some ICU (their battered bodies unrecognisable), rented out to Daddy’s sleazy friends at five, pawned by Mummy to her boyfriend in exchange for drugs or booze, kept off school so that the authorities are not privy to the signs of Non-Accidental Injury in order for us to act on hunches?

How is it that we stopper our ears to those trying to disclose and call them delusional, or liars, of Drama Kings and Queens? How is it that we still fall for a charming and convincing act by the adults rather than listening to the faltering confessions of the child?

How is it that we stamp hard on our intuition, our sense of danger, of something being seriously amiss – and then, when it is too late, cry out, ‘If only I had listened/visited/intervened…’?

How is it that posts like this are judged inappropriate in some way, and go mysteriously missing, or have a limited shelf life?

The abused, deprived of help from society, very often trawl the Internet looking for answers, looking for help, looking for validation – and looking for a platform, often anonymous, in which they can share their grief and hurt feelings away from source.

Our tendency to sweep things under the carpet, to fear confrontation, to give baddies the benefit of the doubt has given us Trump. What a perfect symbol of the human reluctance to face things he is: A known felon, with court cases pending, a thug and a bully and a racist, yet still the President Elect. Why? Because, nearly 50% of the voting public swept reality under the carpet by failing to vote. Because they felt powerless? Because they did not want to face the fact that an emotionally abusive, Psychopathic man was going to be let loose upon the Nuclear Button? Because they, like so many others, assumed that his reputation was nothing but convenient media hype and that he’s a good guy really?

We in the UK are no better, frankly. We have allowed the Nigel Farages of this world to peddle their vile rhetorical wares. We have allowed hatred of foreigners to rise exponentially, fanning the flames of xenophobia and racial prejudice. We have opened the door to abuse: Of Refugees, of those with different coloured skins, of those whose beliefs do not conform to white Protestantism, to women and children who do not look like archetypal poverty-stricken victims.

Yes, the abuse perpetrated by Jimmy Saville, Rolf Harris and Gary Glitter (to name but three) was beyond-belief ghastly. But there are still thousands of abusers out there, hiding behind closed doors or emerging in full view of the camera to spout their sanctioned hatred and filth.

Oh, we can look at him now and say, ‘Ooh, I always thought he was a bit creepy!’ – but what good is that to his victims, eh?

We can lament after the event and wail, ‘I had a feeling something wasn’t right?’ – but that can never bring the murdered child back to life, nor can it ease the suffering of the beaten girlfriend, the sexually-abused children, the terrorised spouses of both genders.

Let us rip that carpet off the floor and throw the bloody thing away. It hides things which should not be hidden. It allows the awful cycle of rape, violence, racism and murder to continue. It allows humanity to labour under the illusion that appearance matches character – and that the cries of women and children are hormones and tantrums respectively, and those of men, signs of weakness.

We allow abusers to rule our countries. Why? Because we still confuse stubbornness and brutality with strength. We still see the willingness to go to war, or pass laws excluding some races, as a sign of security and concern for the greater good of mankind – instead of the Advanced Playground Bullying it actually is more often than not.

Sexual Abuse: True Filth

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/filthy/

Sexual abuse is as good a definition of ‘filthy’ as I can think of. It is time society stopped brushing this particular dirt under the carpet of denial and into the closet of ‘S/he asked for it!’ – and got out the power hoover of truth faced in order to eradicate this vile filth once and for all.

Sexual abuse is fomented in the mind and played out in the bedroom – but, because it is often enacted under the false cuddle of ‘love’, the victim fights his or her own mind in order to call it healthy sex, and uses every justification to excuse the abuser.

More than this, however, it erodes that healthy line between things the victim feels safe and comfortable with – and acts which are, in reality, little more than rape turned into abuser-justified eroticism. Trained to respond in an overtly sexual way, to be alluring and suggestive, to dress up and use props and act and be convincing, the victim’s covert messages to the opposite (or their own) sex become confused, ambiguous and potentially dangerous.

Sexual predators often use emotional intimidation to get what they want. They will accuse their prey of being boring, frigid, overly cautious and conventional. They will use emotional blackmail – fury, back-turning, sobs, threats – if their prey attempt to say no or to derail the train of predictable lust.

Abusers of all kinds find it almost impossible to take ‘No’ for an answer – and the sexual variety is no exception to this rule. They overturn the fragile tables of unease and fear and use rhetoric to persuade the other that the act in question is not just normal – but, in some way, psychologically essential for their well-being (and the sexual liberation of their victim). Gaslighting is used. The victims often ends up feeling as if they barely count as individuals; that they exist simply to fulfil any fantasy, no matter how twisted.

As a consequence of this, sexually abused people are often very anxious about their own sexuality. They often fear that they have some kind of problem which stops them from being aroused sexually; that they are not good enough, sexy enough, to satisfy another – because, if they were, their abuser would not need to go to such extremes to get turned on.

They feel they have to be speedily aroused, highly responsive at all times and inventive in an often dark, even demeaning, way. They feel obliged to flirt, to try it on,  keep sex high on the agenda even when they have no desire to do so. It has become part of the training, the moulding, the breaking of their sexual spirits.

The tragic thing is this: Something of self-esteem and self-respect and the hallowed sanctity of the abused person’s own body has been ripped and torn and shredded. The boundary which allows a human being to feel he/she has the right to refuse sex, and still be loved and respected, has worn away.

Sexual abuse makes people feel that they have to prove their love through ever-more outrageous acts; it means that their abusers are never satisfied with their performance because it is not about lust; it is about control – the abuser’s. It is about the dark extremes of human sexuality – and is, in fact, the very opposite of true arousal. It is a cold and frightening universe full of unstated threat and despair.

Sexual abuse is real. It is out there. It is hidden behind closed bedroom doors. It is not always committed by bogeymen or anonymous perverts. It can be committed under the pretence of love and within the sanctity of apparently trusted partnerships.

Sexual abuse starts with a sense of absolute sexual entitlement in the abuser: He or she has the RIGHT to do whatever it takes to get satisfaction – and the age or status of the victim is no bar; is, in the true sense, irrelevant. After all, you don’t consider the feelings of a dildo or blow-up doll, do you? And, to the hardened abuser, the abused has no more life and right to a voice than that.

The grim reality of sexual abuse needs to be faced, by those who would deny such matters, faced – and STOPPED.

Sexual predators are worse than the most disgusting filth we find on the bottom of our shoes. Scrape them off and bung them in the dog mess bin now!