The Scourge Of Sexual Assault | Silent Plea

By Dwain Wellington Rattray
Pride Contributing Editor

The degradation of our society is evidenced in the manner we treat incidents of sexual harassment and sexual assaults. In speaking with a friend yesterday, she mentioned that a Facebook ‘friend’ (and I use that word in the most loose way possible) was making unwanted sexual advances toward her regularly. When I asked why she didn’t simply delete him, she responded that it was a part of everyday living. She is wrong. There is never an excuse for sexually inappropriate behaviour. There is never an excuse for harassment or assault of any nature.

Unless we shine a blinding hot light upon the stigma that is sexual harassment and sexual assault, the status quo of silence will remain firmly in place. Far too often we are complicit in these acts of violence. Whether we are witness or victim, our voices must be loud, clear and unshakable when we tell the perpetrator in no uncertain terms, “That is not okay.” This must be our constant mantra. There can be no fear when we speak to the offender. The change will begin with us individually, one incident, one woman, one man, one child at a time.

Silent Plea 

Above the screams from the television at maximum volume,

The sound of high pitched wails bring tears to my ears

Through thin dry walls pounded by her skull until the white meat shows,

Painted with warm sticky blood.

Bright crimson fluid staining a white cotton blouse;

Salty fluid from brown pools stain cheeks quivering in fear.

But she stays –

And I am quiet.

 

An apology accompanies one dozen red roses hand delivered to her office;

And she forgives – She forgets.

She forgives the shrill timbre of bellowing poison from a snarling mouth;

She forgets cranial drums that rang with an almost

Tangible pain for hours afterwards;

She forgives the back of an open hand

          Connecting hard and fast with a soft cheek;

She forgets flesh tingling and skin bruised as raw as her tired emotions;

She forgives his giant forehead looming larger than her fear

          Before cracking the bridge of cartilage and bone;

She forgets wet, red dots from her nostrils decorating, soiling

          White ceramic tiles while she goes for ice to ease the inevitable swelling;

She forgives makeshift missiles flung with fury

          as far as a yellow phonebook can be flung;

She forgets temporary blindness from black and blue and puffy eyes.

But she stays –

And I am quiet.

 

I ignore her shaking shoulders in the elevator each morning,

I ignore her forced smiles through too much make up,

I ignore pictures falling off our shared wall each night,

I ignore downturned eyes and wringing hands amid

          the cacophony of the house-party,

I ignore bruised arms and skinned knees,

I ignore the lump in my throat as clenched fists turn my knuckles white,

I ignore the building rage in my gut as I think, ‘If this was my sister. . . .’

I ignore the shame of my inaction.

But she stays –

And I am quiet.

 

She stays and I am quiet

Until the banging is at my door.

She can barely speak between trembling sobs and

Quick furtive glances behind her;

She is reminiscent of a hunted animal at wits end –

          And she is.

His voice is thunder when he calls her name;

She cringes past me into the safety of his absence;

He meets my gaze and our eyes lock for a moment.

Ignoring me, he pierces her with soulless eyes;

His voice is as quiet as ancient crypts:

“Get out here. B!#@%!” He spat the last word.

She cowers behind me, gripping the back of my arms in

          Silent plea –

It occurs to me that I do not remember her name;

We forget the names of countless women with splints on their wrists;

We forget the names of countless women hiding stitches from friends;

We forget the names of countless women with too many hospital visits;

The sour reverie is broken by

 

The cold steel of his grating voice:

“Get. Out. Here. Now.”

Shuddering, she buries her face into my back;

I can only imagine that she is praying,

Her whispers send shivers down my spine.

I am afraid.

He glares at me.

Silence.

 

But she stays –

And I am quiet.

She stays close to me as we quietly watch him

Turn suddenly back into his apartment;

She stays sitting where I guided her on my couch

While I quietly call 911;

She sits quietly listening to him

Throw her possessions into the hallway;

He screams at her through the wall:

“You gonna leave here!”

 

She continues to stare at the carpet

Even as we hear other raised voices arguing with him.

The terror on her face is palpable

When there is a distinct knock outside:

“Police.”

I open the door.

The story is told and notes are taken –

I am no longer quiet.

“Is this her?”

The officer motions to my quiet guest.

I nod and she speaks for the first time:

“Can I go home now?”

He glances at his partner lock silver bracelets

          Unto the brute’s wrists;

“Yes ma’am.”

The domestic despot

          Is deflated,

          Dejected,

          Distressed,

          Deemed a destroyer of damsels –

          Destined to himself being destroyed by his own deeds.

In that moment she finds strength!

And simply, she leaves.

She is crying, but she walks away.

Her pregnant pains give birth to unparalleled courage;

Her courage travails to bring justice;

Justice opens wide to cage an animal.

 

Freedom is forfeit –

Freedom is found.

 

One sexual assault is one to many. We must not tolerate it, from anyone, anywhere, at any age, in any form. The message must be loud, clear, singular and constant. We will not be silent.