AIBU to think we're led to believe there's a social contract, but it's a lie?
Caveat: I might be a bit pissed, but in vino veritas, et al.
We're supposed to look after the buggers, and do everything we can, and sacrifice ourselves in the name of making sure they're alright, and in return they're supposed to make sure we're alright, and look after us - the social contract we buy into is we look after and so they look after us - but it doesn't work that way, does it?
We look after them, but when we're not okay they just smile and nod and hope that when we sober up we'll go back to being good little support humans.
The thing we buy into, the social contract, is - we'll look after them, we'll do the shitwork, we'll make sure everything is okay and hunky-dory in their lives, and in return they are supposed to look after us, and keep us safe. This is the social contract we are expected to buy into, as women.
But I'm not being kept safe. Because every time I do my woman's duty of looking after the menfolk in my life, I'm forced not just to listen to the sounds of the deaf-and-dumb paedophile, I also have to pretend I can't hear him.
Because if I acknowledge I can hear him, it's an acknowledgement that they - my menfolk - have failed in their half of the social contract. They have failed in protecting me; they have failed in their duty; they have failed as men; and it hurts them to realise this...
And so I have to lie.
Every time, I have to lie. I have to pretend I can't hear him. I have to pretend he's not there. I have to pretend I can't hear the calling sound of the paedophile, because if I acknowledge it they feel bad that it's there.
He still lives next door to my dad. My dad, who decided that he wouldn't be chased away by some monster, so he'd stay right where he was and to hell with how bad the paedophile felt having to see him every day - with nary a thought for how his daughters might feel having to see and hear their abuser every time they visited.
It's been twenty five years since I saw my sister say "no" and realised that I too could refuse to go along with what he wanted. It's been eighteen years since the violent response of a man to my disclosure forced me to go the police. And still, every time I do my familial duty, and look after my menfolk, I have to hear him, making his deaf-and-dumb grunting noise with which he used to call us forth to fellate him.
But it's me who has a problem. Me who can't hold my drink, gets maudlin, gets rowdy and argumentative and stroppy, me who turns into a right irritable shitty little bitch who needs to stop drinking and shut up. Me who needs to stop drinking because every time I drink and hear the paedophile - because he's right fucking there just a couple of dozen feet away - me who needs to stop drinking because I get angry and they can't cope.
Why is it my fault that I can't get over being forced to fellate him when I was two years old? Why is it my fault that I can't shut up and get over it and forget all about the first memory I have being that of being raped? Why is it me who's characterised as unable to hold her drink when they give me booze in his presence and expect me not to notice?
Why do they think they're doing their manly duty by tolerating me and kindly telling me to shut up, when they're failing in their half of their social contract?
They are supposed to protect us from this shit. That's their half of the bargain. And yet eighteen years down the line they're still pretending there's nothing they can do and so there's nothing happening and nothing to hear and nothing going on except me being unfortunately and inexplicably nuts.
I don't know why I'm posting, except I need to speak and be heard, because no matter how loud I scream no one can hear me.
It's FWR; women's voices matter. Here's a woman's voice, desperately screaming for a good couple of decades now, yet they cannot hear. All they can do is wait for sobriety and the swallowing of the rage.
They're good men, and yet they cannot see what they're doing to me when they expect me to pretend my abuser doesn't exist.
The judicial system didn't help - community rehabilitation my fucking arse - so where do I go from here?
AIBU to think the idea that they'll protect us in exchange for us looking after them is a massive fucking lie?