Opening My Eyes Inside

I’m still processing, still reeling.

All of those women, and a few men, coming forward to say they too had been touched by the foul hand of sexual harassment and assault. Each of their lives tainted with no regard for their autonomy or bodies.

My wife has suffered the horrors of sexual assault multiple times through her life. Not just harassment, which she’s had on a near daily basis, but full on assault and abuse. I’m certain she’s not the first woman in my life who’s endured such indignities, but she is the first one to talk openly and candidly about them to me. It sickens me every time the specter of those living ghouls resurface, ripping open wounds we so badly wished had permanently healed. Alas, gashes of the psyche rarely remain in slumber, they prefer to make their presence known just when they’ve been forgotten.

Perhaps that’s the most damning thing about the atrocities women face: the reliving of their ordeals, over and over. The fear and pain all can come flooding back in the merest of moments. For many, it is a permanent state of mind – the torture of knowing that when, not if, a man forces his desires upon them that society willfully will look the other way. Worse, it actively seeks out ways to blame them rather than the fiends that prey upon them. It is little wonder why so many women remain silent preferring a silent purgatory to a public one.

That’s the easy part of my processing. I am more fully aware of the overwhelming prevalence of the depraved notions of so many men. My eyes, previously shuttered because I wanted to believe in the goodness of men, have been opened. I can see its insidiousness more plainly, so I can step in and step up to combat it.

The hard part of my processing is the self-evaluation. The review of all my interactions with women, the dissection of my actions and words. While I’ve never raped anyone, I’m certain I’ve at the very least been coercive and persistent – traits I had inherited from the social norms and queues of my youth. I’ve cajoled, insisted, persisted. Even when it was clear, by actions or words, that my advances were unwelcome, I kept inveigling myself, believing as I had been taught that if she would just see what a great guy I am that she would at last be wooed.

As bad as that is, it is not the only way I’ve been ignorant. I’ve witnessed men clearly following women walking and said nothing. I’ve heard innuendo said in a meeting countless times. Behind closed doors, I’ve heard gross declarations of what men would “do” to various women they see, fully expecting zero pushback.

I was complicit in my silence. By not standing up for my fellow human beings, I allowed this festering boil to remain and allowed women’s fears to be realized. Through my inaction, misogyny kept its stronghold, and women were forced to accept their mistreatment and groping against their will and wishes. They were made to feel less than, inferior, powerless, and at fault. And I let it happen.

I admit my personality veers towards the non-combative. No longer can I lean upon that as a reason for cowardice. This is far bigger than me or my trepidations; this is about empathy and standing up for people when they may not have been able to fend of the slathering of a man. It’s not because I have a wife and daughters; it’s because women need our support. They need us to be their allies, someone who believes them when they sound the alarm and do not search for ways to push the blame onto them. They need advocacy, not doubt. I intend on being there for anyone who needs a hand and a voice.

I am deeply sorry for what I’ve done and what I’ve not done. I will do better from here on out. I will teach our sons to be better than I have been, to help them become advocates as well.

I see you all. I stand with you. I cannot change my past, but I can help shape the future, not only through my actions, but through my children.

We have work to do, men. Let’s get to it.

Photo credit: BlackDoctor.org

The Great Tree

The sirens’ abrupt start, coming from everywhere, woke her. It was still dark outside, or as near as she could tell. The lights of the ferry station nearly blinded her with its halogen assault bleeding into every nook and cranny of the place. It was the best location she’d found to sleep because no one kicked her out with protestations of “Get a job!” or other, more profanity-laden, insults. She liked that it was dry and comfortable enough. Can’t find that too much in Seattle. But this siren? That was new and frightening. She stood up from the bench that was her bed for the night, and shuffled to the TV by the ticket booth to try to figure out why the damn alarms were going off.

CNN was on – it was always on here – and some overnight milquetoast broadcaster was excitedly talking, eyes wide.

“According to the NEIC, there was an earthquake in the middle of the North Pacific Ocean measuring 8.6 on the Richter scale. The earthquake, as the graphic shows, is roughly midway between Japan and the Pacific Northwest of the continental United States. They have announced warnings of waves as high as twenty-five feet expected to hit the rural shorelines of Alaska and Russia, with waves in the twenty foot range expected to hit the shores of the Pacific Northwest and Northern California. Japan also is expected to have waves in the fifteen to twenty foot range. Hawaii will be less affected, with waves reaching only seven to nine feet. There have been warnings issued to the areas mentioned. If you are in those areas, please get back from the shore as far as you can. The waves are expected to move fast and reach Russia and Alaska by 2:38 AM, and Seattle and San Francisco at approximately 3:02 AM. Those closest to the Pacific Ocean, please get to higher ground immediately. Now we go to Greg Fichtel, spokesperson for the National Earthquake Information Center, for more…”

Slackjawed, she stood transfixed for a few moments. There were no more ferries running at this time of night. She had no way of getting off the island and away from Elliot Bay. She was trapped, and probably doomed. She went and picked up the few possessions she had, then went to the ladies room and into a stall, hoping it would be enough for her to survive the walls of water that were on their way even now.

The next day, on every TV:

“Experts around the world are baffled by the appearance in the Pacific Ocean of “The Great Tree,” as many are calling it. As it erupted from the ocean at the exact spot of the epicenter of the earthquake that caused flooding and damage to all shores in the North Pacific, the consensus is that it sprang from the ocean floor, despite that never occurring in any recorded history. As you can see from the shots from the aircraft circling it, it continues to grow up and out, now reaching well over fifteen hundred feet in height and several hundred feet wide. The strange green and purple roots, or at least that what they appear to be from eyewitness reports above, have spread some twenty miles out from the tree, seemingly writhing in the currents as they spread out. There’s no telling how much more this can grow. Reports are in that the countries closest to this strange phenomenon are talking and working through possible strategies to deal with it if it keeps expanding. Words from the President of the United States, just twenty minutes ago:

‘I have been in contact with Russia, China, Japan, Australia and the nations of the South Pacific. We are monitoring the situation closely, and are mobilizing our armed forces to be ready for a joint approach should the situation escalate.’

We will keep you updated as new information comes in. For now, the White House has issued an evacuation order for the areas closest to the ocean on the West Coast, and is coordinating with Pearl Harbor to evacuate citizens from Hawaii. More ships are on their way, according to President Ramirez.”

Three days later…

The Great Tree, as it was dubbed when it came up from the depths of the Pacific, had not grown in two full days, its final height reaching just shy of two thousand feet. Its monstrous trunk was two football fields wide. It swayed slightly in the air despite its immensity as it towered above the water and dwarfed the various crafts flying about it, each hoping to find something new to report back to their home bases. The roots that were still roiling about in the waves had splayed themselves out, but never exceeded their vast perimeter.

Suddenly the swaying stopped and the tree stood still and straight, as if pointing to the heavens. Almost instantaneously, clouds swirled around it, moving faster and faster, darkening as they did so. The sky became ominous, clouding out the sun and putting the entirety of the tree’s reach in blackness. Lightning lit the sky, increasing frequency as the darkness overtook the day. Thunder boomed constantly in a strange symphony with the lightning bolts crashing down into the sea below, striking down many of the aircraft who were attempting to flee. Strangest of all, the ocean around the tree itself was placid and calm, accentuating the foreboding feel of the scene.

The lightning stopped, the thunder soon afterwards. All was eerily calm.

Then the voice came. Not broadcast through the air; this voice touched every mind. The voice was evil itself, freezing the peoples’ minds it invaded.

“Ph’nglui mglw’nafh Cthulhu R’lyeh wgah’nagl fhtagn,” the phlegmy voice oozed into their minds, crushing any other thought.

“But no more. Cthulhu awakens, and you will all rightfully fear his reign.” The image of the mighty Elder God flashed madness into their minds and broke them all. His guttural laugh followed, rendering everyone immobile with fear.

“Behold your master, your God! ALL HAIL CTHULHU!”

As those words assaulted the humans’ brains, a great cracking sound commenced. The Great Tree began shaking its bark free, revealing the monstrous truth beneath. One great tentacle stood, shards of its wooden disguise plummeting into the waters. It waved a moment longer, and then a bubbling began at its base. Water sluiced about the humongous appendage as it wriggled. The air shook with morbid expectancy. Then the true master exploded out of the water, the largest of nightmares made manifest in the sky. The horrific God, now free, glowered at the newest minions and acolytes. Tentacles, too many to number, hung where a mouth should be. Red eyes looked through those unfortunate to be within his gaze.

“Now is my time. All shall come to me.”

All ships flew to him, none firing at this fantastic horror of lore. People walked to him, right off docks, and ships, and buildings the world over, oblivious to anything but The Call. The world was his now, after eons of slumber.

Photo credit: David Prei