I know this thread isn’t about men or me in particular. It’s about surivors, believing in them and hoping somehow and someway with each fallen idol we all end up believing in better things. Although the process is frustratingly so slow it seems to go backwards.
This one hits me deep though. He is (was?) my favourite living author. I won’t be melodramatic about it, I don’t know him, it’s not my place to theorize. I always say if you stand against this sort of thing you have to be even more vocal when it’s someone from your own cultural niche.
Place me on a jury I couldn’t condemn him to jail unless the evidence was beyond all reasonable doubt (but if it was I wouldn’t hesitate), but on what he has conceded already is just plainly wrong, even if it’s not criminal. I just cannot wrap my head around it.
Before I was into him as a very young teenager I was into one of his friends, the musician Tori Amos. She and he became firm friends she referencing him in her songs and he her in his stories. She survived an assault by a fan. I refuse to believe he doesn’t know what violent intent towards a woman entails and produces even if you can conjure and gaslight your way into securing a technical consent.
That’s where we go wrong isn’t it? So much heterosexual sex is so damningly close as to be abuse adjacent anyway. As I grew up and became a man, I like him have known many a Tori Amos. Women of all kinds placed on healing journeys they should never have been forced into in the first place. So many in fact I lost count more than a decade ago.
The common factor isn’t wether they did or didn’t consent, whilst of course we make that very important (and rightly so), the common factor is the harm, from men, who wether they had permission or not caused harm. Why do we do this? Can we just not? Why are we like this?
I do not know. I don’t believe we are hard wired to violence, control and abuse. I am afraid
it’s a mix of fear, jealousy and hatred. Women are heir to the same shadows, but we indulge them in men, and ruthlessly suppress them in women. Given the nature of this being about a storyteller, it makes me ponder what fucked up stories we have been telling one another to get to these places. What stories he wove for himself to make this okay?
There must be better stories out there, truer stories that can stop this. I hope he ends up telling himself a new one, where he takes responsibility for the harm he’s done, and rather than preserve the glittering world of literary fame and fortune he instead makes the narrative one where the main characters are the women he has caused harm, and tells them the fault was never theirs, but it was his. Hey, I can dream…