Unintended Weapons

Anything can be weaponized but the male sexual organ is utterly destructive used this way. Millions and millions of women and children live with the memory of a penis used as a weapon. Sadly, I am entirely unable to even conceptualize a penis as anything but a weapon. Even in my tenderest feelings for a man, any man, I cannot forget he carries a weapon that if properly motivated can gravely injure me or someone I love. If a man is reading this and finds it disturbing, consider what actions could be taken to remove himself as a threat to anyone perceived as weaker or even inferior. This dynamic may have been with humans forever. I couldn’t say. It is not what makes a man. It is what destroys the bond between men and women and their families. If we are not cognizant of it, we are unconsciously contributing to it. What world do we want our daughters and sons to inherit? A man decides every day by his actions. We all decide by our silence. 

My response to this male organ is not theoretical. It is visceral born of hours, days, and years of being targeted by men as a girl child. I can no more wish this response away than wish away my hand. If removing my hand would make this awful knowledge go, would I remove it? No of course not, but god knows I have tried to literally cut out this knowing. It does not work. An injury to mind and body can be healed but not removed. Even the healing cannot be complete because the scars will remain for the entirety of my life even as they remain to this day on my skin.

I cannot forgive the men that inflicted this pain on me. I can take action to stop it from happening in the world proximate to me. I don’t tolerate intimidating, violent, or drunk men in my life. I am lucky. The numbers of women and children who cannot make this choice is truly mind numbing. I am still left with my own pain stirred up by my simply seeking medical assistance. This is wrong. I wish it wasn’t so.  I have to battle my way through it, or if not battle, at least chart a healthy course.

Joceile

9.17.22

[Picture of me as a baby held by my dad in 1958.]