Posts by Helen Marie
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Ah bother. Sorry- only half my picture came out when posting from my iPhone, so I tried to edit/re-post from laptop. And now it seems to have disappeared altogether... trying again.
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The centre of this sunflower reminds me of patterns my old Spirograph set made.
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+1 for #twitteraunties
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Penis beaker.
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Echiums with a cool sunbeam thing happening.
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Thanks for the feel-good thread. I'm using these Friday music threads as a kind of very belated musical education after shutting it all out for decades. So much to discover, it's overwhelming. Loving lots of things here. Feeling good feels.
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Capture: Two Tone, in reply to JacksonP,
Thanks for the welcome! Have been lurking for ages, enjoying the moodiness.
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It worked!
Another phone pic - Mud meets Sky
Burke St wharf in Thames. Now just used by terns as a convenient place to sit and chatter.
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Not sure if I'm doing this right - using the attachment thing? Anyway, if this works, a fern at Oakley creek. It's where I go to sort my head out. It's just a phone pic - I don't have a camera. I thought it was pretty though.
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Trigger warning for rape.
I love the word fuck. It has such a satisfying mouth feel and thwacking sound. I have no problem with it being used as a swear or for emphasis. I have however an actual physical reaction to the word rape, it brings with it a gut-twist of horrified recognition, and a feeling of face-blood draining. Horror and shame... even after half a lifetime. The sort of shame that stops you looking anyone in the eye, because you're scared they'll see it.
The police need to be educated about the shame that comes from being raped or sexually abused. They need to make sure they don't add to it. It lasts a lifetime, or it has for me, though therapy has dulled it a little. I was absolutely horrified to discover they're still doing the same old insensitive, victim-blaming shit that they were doing over 30 years ago when I went to them for help.
That night I'd just been raped. The guy with no teeth who broke in through the toilet window. My flatmates had walked in on the middle of it, and dragged him downstairs to the party. I think I cried a bit. A girl was there, comforting me, telling me they had the guy downstairs and were dealing with him. I went to sleep eventually. Next thing I knew, there were men in suits looking in the wardrobe. I asked who they were. "We're the police." One pulled my sleeping bag top open, looked in, his bare hands felt around with me naked inside it. (We didn't have beds, just slept on the floor). They said they were looking for a gun. He felt between my legs, underneath me where it was still sticky, looked revolted. So much shame.
Two days later. My police-station experience was a bit like the Radiolive interview. There were four male cops in the room. Only one was taking down my statement. The others were just sharing the room. They dropped their pens and listened. There were questions about my clothes, about how often I'd had sex that week, that month, that year. Sideways glances. I heard sniggering in the back of the room. A lot of emphasis on the fact that I'd not worn a bra that day (my top had a cut out crochet flower at the back that looked stupid with a thick bra strap running through it, so I'd gone without). How much had I had to drink? How many boys had I slept with again? Snigger. More shame. I remember being surprised and a bit dismayed that my cop couldn't spell sofa. All through my statement was the word "soffa". I signed it and hoped he was smarter than he seemed. Because he was "my" cop and I needed him to do this right. To get this guy sent to prison. Not just for me, but because his sister had begged me to go to the police. She said the whole family were sick of how he fiddled with their kids.
It didn't get to court. They said everyone had been too drunk to be reliable witnesses... I'd had sex earlier that same day... I'd get ripped to pieces in court... too little evidence in general. I was gutted. Felt like a stupid, drunk little slut who'd been an embarrassing nuisance to all the important men. And the kid-fiddling guy with no teeth just went on fiddling I guess.
I had imagined that things must be COMPLETELY different now! Surely they would have totally revamped their systems for dealing with sexual assaults. In my mind, there was a special sexual abuse area for interviews with victims. With specially trained experts who could gather the required information with skill and sensitivity, who knew what the psychological effects of this kind of trauma were, and who were careful not to retraumatise. But to read that they were still focusing on clothing and how much the girls had to drink?!
From today's Herald article by Toby Manhire:
The 13-year-old who gave the recorded statement in 2011, what is more, told 3News that she was "asked a lot of questions about what I was wearing, and I went out in a skirt". That "they said that I didn't have enough evidence to show, because I went out in clothes that were pretty much asking for it.
Bitterly, bitterly disappointed and feeling kind of hopeless about police and dickheads on the radio. Though heartened that people are outraged and talking about it. And absolutely delighted about how many of the sponsors pulling their adverts from Radiolive. Giovanni Tiso is a treasure! Surely now something will change? Now going for a very long walk with a dog in whatever weather is around.
