Not a Cheerful One

If you are cheerful right now, you might not want to read this. It also touches on more sensitive topics than I usual focus on for which I apologize. I am not a violent person by nature. I run from any sort of confrontation and am a cripple when it comes to communicating something I might feel would offend or hurt another. When I get angry though, the pansy person I am normally disappears. I hate when this happens. This is the reason I began to shy away from contact sports as I got older-I hated feeling angry with another player. (That and my coordination skills exponentially decreased). To save Sel from my passionate venting and hysterics, I am going to use this as a venting arena. Last summer, I was bent on going to Africa for a field study. I wanted nothing more than to live in a hut, sweat buckets, and learn everything I could about the culture of wherever I was placed. One of my co-workers, who reminds me of my favorite high school teacher, expressed his concern at me going. I was touched by his concern, but nothing could sway me from my choice (except for a handsome blue-eyed man named Sel). While in the break room today, he offered his congratulations on my marriage and how relieved he was that I wasn’t going to Africa. He told me more of the reasons why he was so concerned last summer. He told me of the nearly 100 suits against the Peace Corp from women who were brutally raped while in Africa (among other areas). I looked up the article online and my flood of blinding anger I so often bury washed over me. It is still causing my blood to pound too hard through my veins and my hands to shake as I try and type this. There is nothing more despicable in this world than a rapist. I am Mormon and very strongly believe in the power of Christ’s atonement, but I don’t know if I will ever be able to feel anything other than hate for a rapist. I try to remember that rapists are human too. They have probably had difficult pasts. I try over and over to think this way, but all I keep coming back to wishing the pain they caused their victims would fall upon them tenfold. I know this might be controversial, but I think murderers rank better than rapists. When someone is raped, they have to wake up every single day and remember. Remember how they will never be the same again. Remember how they are supposed to be grateful to be alive. Remember they can never really forget. When you die, your pain goes with you. I know this is sounding dark and awful and I hope you know I don’t intend it that way. The world is full of truly beautiful people who do truly beautiful things every day. Even acknowledging that there are far more people who are good in this world cannot seem to placate my fury that women, children are sexually abused every single day. 1 out of 3 American women have been sexually abused. I bet you the statistic is actually much higher than that. The reason, rape victims blame themselves and are terrified people will find out. People will think poorly of the victim or wonder what the victim did to bring it on herself (sometimes himself). Children too often don’t understand exactly what has happened. They feel pain and are confused, but they don’t fully comprehend what happened to them was not normal. I want so desperately to know how to help stop this. I want justice to be served. I feel so powerless as I try and sort out what I could possibly do to keep another child or woman from being part to the too high statistic. The only weak conclusion I have lighted upon is that maybe if I am kind to every single person I encounter, it will help them believe there is still goodness in the world. Because there is. Even for those despicable predators who don’t deserve it. There is mercy and compassion. There is altruism and kindness. There is hope and faith. There is love.