I am from a community of silence, where DMC ( deep meaningful conversation) and rape culture are phrases and popular hashtags. I come from a community of silence, where fingers are pointed at them but never at ourselves. I come from a community of silence filled with euphemisms and quiet faux pas. This is ours, the bad, the ugly and the worst.
My fear you see, is a blinded community, tricked by media, false beauty and reality. A land of people fixated on impossible perfection, void of mistakes and digressions.
If I could count the number of silenced and hidden mistakes. If I could bottle the tears and fears and quiet sleep time nightmares. This pretty place with its high walls, local farm stalls, craft beers, night market cheers, naked cycle protests, tattoo sleeve contest, bare muscled chests, perfect Baywatch breast, this place too has ugliness.
I counted for sake of illustrating my point, the number of women I know in my community who have had almost rapes or any kind of sexual mistakes. I counted the men, young back then, who were lured into situations of discomfort and pain time and time again so that they would not be left out of “the know”. I counted abortion after abortion. I counted, morning after pills, condom breaks and spills, HIV test waiting period chills. I counted boys tears that dried and turned into mens’ life long fears. I counted eating disorders and fitness obsessions. I counted excessive drinking, smoking, vomiting, partying, sleeping around, anything to deflect the truth.
I counted and my hands grew stiff and my mind foggy, my shoulders heavy and my heart weak. We are not pretty, we are terrified. Afraid and confused. There is no education, no book, no Internet site, no cellphone app that can teach you how to say “Help me!” There is no clothing or blanket or piercing or ink that can cover invisible scars.
Instinctively you want to ask me, “Who are these messed up people who you know?” My answer is simple, cruel and cold as snow. You, it is you and him and her and them. It is all of us. Silently struggling to create perfection. It is sports men trying desperately to cut the ‘gay’ away. It is young religious girls ignoring the hot natural pulse underneath their pretty panty frills. It is high earning, over achieving men wanting to quit it all and go back to fishing again. It is women in the world wanting to show their legs and shave their heads. It is teens falling pregnant and allowing trains to ride over their parent’s life long dreams.
We are a community of silence, blinded by fear. We realise to late that all one needed was an ear, a moment to speak out, cry and be heard. A moment to protest, step out, curse. There is no us and them in the end. We are slowly and deliberately ruining our community, cutting off from reality. Forcing individuals to choose a path of brutality.
Speak out, shout loud, “Help me!” It is hard at first but when rehearsed quietly a fire burns inwardly and soon it will be heard.
Written for all who are struggling with the strange happenings around the story of Taro Spies.
Missing since Tue 12th May 2015, car found abandoned near Table Mountain.
– It takes the roof to be blown off by a bomb, for us to realise that war is indiscriminate – thegirlwhofoundpower