Dear Ones, I am heartbroken this morning. The kind of heartbroken that comes from being deeply misunderstood, mischaracterized and written off. A long time ago, I wrote a piece for Elephant Journal called Dear Drunk Girl. It was moderately popular, and I actually got messages from several people who work with undergrads in this college town saying that they wanted to use it in working with a social norming program aimed at helping students see that binge drinking was not necessary to have fun on a Friday night. Yesterday, EJ resurrected the piece, as they sometimes do. I drew fire in the comments, and on EJs Facebook page, but I absolutely accepted that. There seemed to be a balance; folks who knew I meant well and came from a place of love and concern, and folks who thought I was a victim-blaming, rape-justifying slut shamer. Today, there is a piece entitled Rebuttal to Deart Drunk Girl on EJ. Its a staff pick, so its prominent. Its author calls me a slut-shamer and encourages me to work to help women instead of perpetuating the notion that rape victims are at fault. Elephant Journal lives on unique views, and I fully understand (well, I hope) that this is not their way of piling on. Im choosing to assume that it was a ratings decision and in that context, neither kind nor unkind, just a neutral action that fits their charter to create and allow meaningful, mindful dialogue. That being said, I am burning, shaking and buzzing. I will not, should not and actually cannot respond anywhere but here. I am choosing this place because I believe that those of you who have chosen to come here, and who know my own charter understand that I wrote that piece from a place of love and concern. I do not sit on my porch and judge the drunk girls; I have for years been involved in University and community programs aimed at helping prevent harm to anyone (because boys get hurt, and robbed and beaten up when they are too drunk to stand up, too). I do not hold the rapists innocent. At all. My whole spiritual life is based on compassion and love. But I told my stepdaughter, just as I told my son, that if you choose to get so drunk or so high that you lose control of yourself, you are at risk from predators and accidents. I chose, perhaps, to be un-PC to try to keep them safe rather than letting them, believe that we lived in a utopia where people did not do things just because they shouldnt happen. I also required that they wear seat belts when driving, even though it wouldnt be their fault if another driver hit them. I saw it as increasing the odds of their survival and success in life. Because I loved them. Thats all. I think I need to sit, to take a walk, to remind myself that I know who I am, and who I am is not determined by the inflamed rhetoric of a person who knows nothing about me beyond a single piece of my writing that apparently pushed a lot of her hot buttons. This is a test. Im going to get through it. Right now, though...my heart is broken. love, annie
Posted on: Fri, 14 Mar 2014 13:10:36 +0000
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