I've been thinking about this for the past week. Spoke to my T about it. Been wondering, why am I so drawn to this story? I am not a "celebrity watcher". Don't read People magazine. Don't watch Entertainment Tonight. Don't usually give a shit about who's banging who.
I guess I've realized that this story makes me angry. Angry that a little girl got molested. Angry that the perp got away with it, and kept his reputation intact. Angry that even 20 years later when that girl is a woman and tries to tell her story, she's dismissed as being just a pathetic creature, manipulated into telling a lie by a vindictive mother. Angry that the public is so gullible that they choose buy into this.
But on a personal level, its me who feels abused and dismissed. Its me who finds no justice. Its me who cannot even have the satisfaction of publicly shaming my abuser. Its me who has to live with its effects on me. I feel sympathy for Dylan Farrow, and am proud of her for speaking out. But its me feeling this pain and anger. Dammit, I am so tired of these feelings.
the ignorance and hostility toward the victim is astounding, outrageous, and triggering.
i have had to separate myself from it.
truly, it is the, at best dismissive, and at worst abusive, treatment of dylan that is deeply disturbing.
unacceptable. disappointing. etc. etc.
there is no end to the negative feelings.
i just keep reminding myself, this is not about me,
this is not about woody, this is not about the trolls,
this is about a courageous young adult survivor of child abuse speaking out and breaking the silence,
and that is a good thing!