Over the past decade since writing this blog, I really thought I wasn't reaching anybody out there in cyberspace. Then as time went by and emails starting showing up with comments, I realized that there was something happening out there. I have no regrets. I've seem to come full circle when it comes to violence against indigenous women and indigenous girls. The thing that I didn't understand was that just saying something makes it exposed. Far too long, we as indigenous women and non-indigenous women haven't said anything.
To paraphrase a lady: "Me too. I can not say honestly that I know of too many indigenous women who have been raped, assaulted and harassed. By a lawyer, by "friends;, by ex-partner and others. She writes that she was fortunate that her experience wasn't particularly physically violent." I paraphrased her as she says it clearly. As in even mentioning being violated means an immediate fear response from each victims of "people will pity me or they will judge me." attitude. Personally, I've found when people started judging me they were hiding their own trauma.
She further goes onto say that "we live in a layered levels of normalized silence an oppression. Where we can't talk about it because these are people we know, live with, work with. It's not ok. No one deserves to have their personal space violated and not deserved to be shamed into silence. We all deserve respect."
I believe this is the core of where I started this blog. I was a victim of a very violent sexual assault. I was shamed into silence that last close to twenty years until it came to me through a friend. She had asked me if the men who raped me knew they hurt me. I thought this was a very strange question as it was obvious they knew; however, she meant hurt me emotionally. I explained to her that after my attacker were done with me, one stayed behind thinkin he could have me submit again. I told my friend that I had told him "If you thought I enjoyed what you did to me you've got to be kidding!" With that last statement, I felt only one punch and I was unconscious. I was fortunate as he much have been so outraged that he left at least twenty scars in my head. My friend said, no! Does he know he hurt you?
You see, this systematically we as indigenous women without knowing what we are doing. We tend to think if we do not say anything everything we be fine. It was during the investigation that took about four years and three RCMP officers later to realize that these men who had raped me were serial rapist. I was only one of seventeen from what the RCMP reports had found out; however, none of these indigenous women wanted to do anything about being raped. I had been one of their youngest victim. I couldn't comprehend how grown indigenous women hadn't said anything about these two men. If they had maybe, just maybe, I would have been spared.
These levels or layers of normalized silence of oppression was a perfect setup for these rapist to hunt and hurt. They were such violent indigenous men. Both had married sisters and these sisters, I'm sure at one point in their lives they wanted to help me. You see this shame of silence extends to wives of the rapists. These women were beaten into silence.
Years after one of the sisters died, I approach the other sister say to her that I didn't want to leave this earth without any regrets. I wanted her to know that I did hear her and her sister talking outside that car where they found me. I told her I had pretended to be unconscious; however, hearing them drive up to the house where the attack took place woke me. I lay there in a pool of blood. I told her I heard you both go into the house. I waited for them to come out and rescue me; however, instead of being rescued I heard them screaming.
As I told her this story, she told me "No!' We found you in bed with her husband and she (meaning the deceased sister's husband) beat you up with her boots. This lady whom I was sharing my side of my story was looking right at me telling me a lie. Unknown to her I knew the whole story of what happened to these two sisters after they left in that care freezing. The one sister was so badly beaten up by her husband she was dropped off at a safe house. This safe house was my late friend's home. Back then, I was a child who just turned eighteen. I didn't know this lady, yet years later we became lifelong friends. It was this friend who years later disclosed to me that she took in this woman. The woman stayed with her for two weeks.
I mentioned this to the sister I was confiding in about the reality of what really happened that morning so many years ago. I needed to this power of truth out there as for decades these women and their children tried shaming me. There was a constant effort to violate my personal space whenever possible. I can not nor would I every try to comprehend what their other victims went through with these men's wives. I say this as, I left my community and found my voice. Many indigenous women can not do this as they have a family to support and I personally believe they don't realize they've been shamed into silence.
There is an epidemic of indigenous men out there who've continued to violate the personal space of indigenous women and indigenous girls. I had thought that if someone had said something about these two serial rapists maybe even taking both to court, women and girls would be safe. They didn't target non-indigenous women. They used their status as married men to justify raping indigenous girls and indigenous women. I was an indigenous girls. I had just turned eighteen by a few months. I thought I was safe with the group of people I was with and I thought I could trust them all.
I had been the sacred buffalo. Within my community, my grandparents travelled around the world twice before I was ten years old. My grandfather was a heredity chief and my father was ex-military. My entire family was political. These men went out to their way to totally discredit me, shame me.
Decades later, I took the remaining rapist to court, he was found guilty after twenty years. It was after he served his sentence that he started shocking me. Everywhere I went he would be there. He's tried to sit next to me and I even worked on the same team as him. I had to use me voice to get him to understand. I am not his property. It got to the point where I'd openly call him out saying: "you see this man sitting next to me. He raped me! I took him to court. He served time. He still thinks I enjoyed what he did to me!" I'd have to say this out publicly in front of strangers for this rapist to leave me alone. This is decades after being brutally raped by him and his brother-in-law.
I write this blog. I write to give a voice to all those indigenous girls and indigenous women who remain silent. Its not their fault they've lost their voices. There are so many levels of abuse within our communities. It's within these levels that we get lost if we do not have a support system in place. We get lost if are unable to find our voice. I write this blog knowing that in the beginning, I was worried about all those indigenous girls were falling victims to this plastic medicine man. I didn't want to be put in a position where I could do something or say something.
It's important to tell your story. It's important to know that in telling you story you might be helping another person who just needs to know that they are not alone. Too many women say "me too|" and their stories are important. We need to give our indigenous girls a fair start in their lives. They need to know that they are not alone. Sometimes, it takes a lifetime of taking care of ones own mental health to understand the scope that these acts of violence happen to women in general.
I hope you continue reading my blog. I have a few YouTube videos I'm planning to upload about what indigenous women are doing to help others.
To paraphrase a lady: "Me too. I can not say honestly that I know of too many indigenous women who have been raped, assaulted and harassed. By a lawyer, by "friends;, by ex-partner and others. She writes that she was fortunate that her experience wasn't particularly physically violent." I paraphrased her as she says it clearly. As in even mentioning being violated means an immediate fear response from each victims of "people will pity me or they will judge me." attitude. Personally, I've found when people started judging me they were hiding their own trauma.
She further goes onto say that "we live in a layered levels of normalized silence an oppression. Where we can't talk about it because these are people we know, live with, work with. It's not ok. No one deserves to have their personal space violated and not deserved to be shamed into silence. We all deserve respect."
I believe this is the core of where I started this blog. I was a victim of a very violent sexual assault. I was shamed into silence that last close to twenty years until it came to me through a friend. She had asked me if the men who raped me knew they hurt me. I thought this was a very strange question as it was obvious they knew; however, she meant hurt me emotionally. I explained to her that after my attacker were done with me, one stayed behind thinkin he could have me submit again. I told my friend that I had told him "If you thought I enjoyed what you did to me you've got to be kidding!" With that last statement, I felt only one punch and I was unconscious. I was fortunate as he much have been so outraged that he left at least twenty scars in my head. My friend said, no! Does he know he hurt you?
You see, this systematically we as indigenous women without knowing what we are doing. We tend to think if we do not say anything everything we be fine. It was during the investigation that took about four years and three RCMP officers later to realize that these men who had raped me were serial rapist. I was only one of seventeen from what the RCMP reports had found out; however, none of these indigenous women wanted to do anything about being raped. I had been one of their youngest victim. I couldn't comprehend how grown indigenous women hadn't said anything about these two men. If they had maybe, just maybe, I would have been spared.
These levels or layers of normalized silence of oppression was a perfect setup for these rapist to hunt and hurt. They were such violent indigenous men. Both had married sisters and these sisters, I'm sure at one point in their lives they wanted to help me. You see this shame of silence extends to wives of the rapists. These women were beaten into silence.
Years after one of the sisters died, I approach the other sister say to her that I didn't want to leave this earth without any regrets. I wanted her to know that I did hear her and her sister talking outside that car where they found me. I told her I had pretended to be unconscious; however, hearing them drive up to the house where the attack took place woke me. I lay there in a pool of blood. I told her I heard you both go into the house. I waited for them to come out and rescue me; however, instead of being rescued I heard them screaming.
As I told her this story, she told me "No!' We found you in bed with her husband and she (meaning the deceased sister's husband) beat you up with her boots. This lady whom I was sharing my side of my story was looking right at me telling me a lie. Unknown to her I knew the whole story of what happened to these two sisters after they left in that care freezing. The one sister was so badly beaten up by her husband she was dropped off at a safe house. This safe house was my late friend's home. Back then, I was a child who just turned eighteen. I didn't know this lady, yet years later we became lifelong friends. It was this friend who years later disclosed to me that she took in this woman. The woman stayed with her for two weeks.
I mentioned this to the sister I was confiding in about the reality of what really happened that morning so many years ago. I needed to this power of truth out there as for decades these women and their children tried shaming me. There was a constant effort to violate my personal space whenever possible. I can not nor would I every try to comprehend what their other victims went through with these men's wives. I say this as, I left my community and found my voice. Many indigenous women can not do this as they have a family to support and I personally believe they don't realize they've been shamed into silence.
There is an epidemic of indigenous men out there who've continued to violate the personal space of indigenous women and indigenous girls. I had thought that if someone had said something about these two serial rapists maybe even taking both to court, women and girls would be safe. They didn't target non-indigenous women. They used their status as married men to justify raping indigenous girls and indigenous women. I was an indigenous girls. I had just turned eighteen by a few months. I thought I was safe with the group of people I was with and I thought I could trust them all.
I had been the sacred buffalo. Within my community, my grandparents travelled around the world twice before I was ten years old. My grandfather was a heredity chief and my father was ex-military. My entire family was political. These men went out to their way to totally discredit me, shame me.
Decades later, I took the remaining rapist to court, he was found guilty after twenty years. It was after he served his sentence that he started shocking me. Everywhere I went he would be there. He's tried to sit next to me and I even worked on the same team as him. I had to use me voice to get him to understand. I am not his property. It got to the point where I'd openly call him out saying: "you see this man sitting next to me. He raped me! I took him to court. He served time. He still thinks I enjoyed what he did to me!" I'd have to say this out publicly in front of strangers for this rapist to leave me alone. This is decades after being brutally raped by him and his brother-in-law.
I write this blog. I write to give a voice to all those indigenous girls and indigenous women who remain silent. Its not their fault they've lost their voices. There are so many levels of abuse within our communities. It's within these levels that we get lost if we do not have a support system in place. We get lost if are unable to find our voice. I write this blog knowing that in the beginning, I was worried about all those indigenous girls were falling victims to this plastic medicine man. I didn't want to be put in a position where I could do something or say something.
It's important to tell your story. It's important to know that in telling you story you might be helping another person who just needs to know that they are not alone. Too many women say "me too|" and their stories are important. We need to give our indigenous girls a fair start in their lives. They need to know that they are not alone. Sometimes, it takes a lifetime of taking care of ones own mental health to understand the scope that these acts of violence happen to women in general.
I hope you continue reading my blog. I have a few YouTube videos I'm planning to upload about what indigenous women are doing to help others.
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