I have been asked to participate in another zine that is specifically for spreading awareness about sexual assault. I am deeply honored. But also trepedatious.
When you write about your experiences in the most brutal truth it brings some flack, but it also brings some issues about your own insecurities and fears of subjecting yourself to the public. It also brings up your own memories and experience. You relive a story when you tell it. So sometimes it’s dangerous.
The subject of rape is a very personal experience. It is the darkest experience to reveal to anyone.
And the problem is I fear and worry is it makes you vulnerable at times. Because people reject it. They can’t handle it. They don’t want the bubble of their image of themselves or their life to be shattered by the intrusion of “your horrific shit.” To put it as tactful as others have put it to me.
Then there is the victim blaming. Then there is the social fall out afterwards. It takes so much courage to recover. People really have no clue and it is sad to me they don’t like it when you change back to yourself.
They want you broken, or they want you so super strong you can bounce bullets off of you like some god damn superhero. I’m just human. I’m not impervious. I have feelings.
The women I have met are extremely different. Some go to substance abuse because they can’t handle that wound, they haven’t truly healed and faced there pain.
I still struggle myself. I still struggle with getting myself to the therapist. We don’t always talk about the rape, we talk about everything, but sometimes I just wish it wasn’t at the location I go to, it creeps me out. But I always look forward to talking to her. And she is blunt and direct and honest, gentle and compassionate, but affirmative in directing me to focus on the positive because I will get myself into an emotional storm if I’m allowed too much time to think and worry. Fears of being murdered, a random vagrant asking me for money or hustle me, the fears of being snatched, all are very real based off of what happened. That’s why they call it PTSD. But luckily my reactions are not scary, I hide it very well, I just panic and my heart increases, but I focus on staying calm and focused on exit points, safety, etc.
She thinks this would be good for me to write it out. And I am debating on whether to write a story or just submit a poem.
On my poetry zine for the show I’m doing a long bi-fold with the steak knife on the front, publication information on the back, and a few drawings and poems in the interior. I’m going for 7 poems and 5 drawings.
So far I have a small budget, all black and white copies no color. I’m going to recycle some old prints test pieces as apart of it. Debating on hand stitching the bindings or not. Might do something special for the covers depending on time constraints. Rubber stamp pads are expensive for just printing covers.
I got a Pinterest board with ideas.
I know I want to print a full color hand collage book with the poems but don’t expect much sales. That’s really NOT what it’s about.