Trigger warning, obviously, for physical intimidation, implied threats, an adult terrorizing children, being "tickled" too hard (non-consensually) so that it hurts, not being listened to about very strong feelings, inappropriate (non-consensual) touching by other children, and general, all-around shittiness. It's also about an empowering experience, too, so it's not all dark, and it ends on a good note. If you wish to proceed, enjoy.
Christmas with the Christian side of the family, I anticipated, would be extremely unpleasant. The year before a couple of uncles had been delighted with Duck Dynasty's Phil Robertson and had eagerly expressed their glee to one another. "Even if you don't agree, you've got to admire him for standing up for his beliefs," one of them had smiled.
I had not said anything that year, being shocked at what they had said (since it was relatively old news even then), and not knowing what to say.
This time, for weeks beforehand, I had practiced saying that I actually don't admire the publicity stunts of reality stars, that I didn't think a loving god would tell someone that an act of love was an abomination, even that no one can judge another's salvation (because, once again, my grandfather was asking us to come to his church, even though he thinks that we are believers like him).
Surprisingly, though, it was not an unpleasant Christmas; my great stand was not about religion or politics at all, and I stood up to someone that I wasn't expecting to.
My cousin was asking an uncle about a gun he was thinking of buying.
"Why do you want it?" his older brother (whom I think of as Blue-Butt because of a Smurf rape joke that I got in trouble for years ago) asked.
"Because it has more firepower," answered my youngest cousin. (I will call him Red-Butt, because when he was very little, after his bath he used to run through the house naked. We older kids would grab towels and try to capture him and cover him up, everyone laughing all the while, and my mother would yell, "There goes the Red-Butted Boobie!" (not an actual bird))
"He wants to make a bigger hole," his dad commented.
Blue shook his head. "Poor child," he said sarcastically.
The words flew out of my mouth and I was pointing deliberately at him before I realized what was going on. "That's how I feel about you!" I retorted.
"I am twice your size," he said, contemptuously emphasizing every word.
"So?" I asked, spreading my hands and giving him a purposefully confused look. I was thankful that my mouth had responded so quickly.
He rolled his eyes, gave a little scoff and looked away, ignoring me. He had not answered my question, which made me think that I had won somehow.
After a few seconds, I mumbled, "I'm just teasing you, Blue. I'm just kidding... sort of," but I don't think he heard me, and my heart wasn't in it. It felt bad to say, and so I stopped saying it.
I couldn't get this little exchange out of my mind for hours afterwards. I cannot imagine how physical size would have anything to do with being nice to people, or even with acting childish. Did he think physical size made him more adult than me? Or that he could subtly put people down because of his size? Or even that I couldn't feel a certain way about him? (Red is as big as he is, so he can't really put Red down as being child-sized compared to him.)
There are at least three things I believe happened here: 1) I probably have made an enemy, whether I was right or wrong to say it, 2) I told him that I was not intimidated by his physical size or strength, and, 3) I was more of a loudmouth than I ever remember. I told him what I thought of him, and I love that that happened.
I am surprised that he would resort to physical intimidation to shut me up, that that was apparently okay with him, and equally surprised at my response. I have always thought of myself as timid and scared, and I once told my mom that on some level I was physically afraid of all men. That is still true somewhat, but here I was, unafraid of him.
As a child I had been terrified of an uncle who physically bullied me (and my cousins), "tickling" us until it hurt, grabbing us against our wills and hanging us upside down in spite of our terrified screams (the other adults did not take our protests seriously, and did not want to make waves).
As an adult, I had bought a can of mace and decided that even in my family, there would also be legal repercussions if someone tried to physically intimidate me. "Get out of my face!" I would say, and if they persisted, I would mace them and later say, truthfully, that I was afraid for my physical safety. They would know not to mess with me, and that I did not take implied threats lightly. If they were to invade my physical space, after all, what's to stop them from hitting me? Perhaps I was being paranoid, but it made me feel a lot better.
That attitude, about an uncle, now applied to my cousin as well. Worst case scenario, if I ate my own teeth, didn't get a chance to mace him, and he beat the crap out of me, he would still be a felon. He would either be in prison or on the lam, and it would ruin his life. I didn't care how many people I pissed off, I would have gladly sent a bully to prison.
His threat was deflated; obviously, he would not have gone through with it. I was surrounded by my father, other male relatives, and my mother, who brawled quite a bit in high school, when other girls picked on her, and was strong enough to have had several very physical jobs. I also have taken two years of taekwondo, and apparently I was less cowed and intimidated by him than he expected (maybe even than I have been before). He was also sitting across the room from me; if he had been invading my personal space, looking down on me, I might have reacted differently; I really don't know.
I can either assume that he wouldn't have gone through with it, and thus was making idle threats (I don't know why else he would refer to physical size), or that he would have gone ahead and beaten up a person half his size for calling him childish.
He is three years younger than me, and this is not the first time that he made a point of boasting that he could take me on. When he was going through puberty and the subsequent growth spurts, he once told me, very arrogantly, "I'm stronger than you." (I forget the context of this situation; I was probably disagreeing with him.)
So what? I thought. You're still an asshole. I had not said it at the time, but I think I might if it happened now.
And I have punched him before. When I was twelve and he was nine, I often played male characters in our games, such as Woody and Robin. He started finding excuses to push me or touch me in the chest, all in the context of "play." It got to be such a problem, and bothered me so much, that (at my mother's suggestion, no less), I punched him when we were playing in my grandparents' pool one day with some of his friends. I thought that his touching me was in this case an accident, and I didn't feel very good about doing it in front of his friends, explaining what he did in front of them. But I was so desperate to have it stop that I did it anyway.
The blow had landed on his throat. I had thought that I would have a weak punch, but he was in tears, his voice hoarse. He was mad at me because he said it was an accident, and it abruptly put a stop to our game, but I was relieved. I had finally done it! I had finally physically hurt him, for using me as a sex object--not even taking my feelings into consideration when using my body to satisfy his sexual urges or curiosity. I hoped he would never do it again.
I was right; he never touched me again. He may have remembered it, and was looking for an opportunity to "put me in my place" or get back at me ever since.
Whatever the case, it doesn't look like he can or will make such threats anymore, and I don't have to let him put his brother down (as I saw it) in my presence.
It feels good to be mean.
What do you think of this? Leave a comment below, or send me an email at: atheistjourneysblog@gmail.com
Follow or tweet me here: https://twitter.com/atheistjourneys
No comments:
Post a Comment