Pretending

by Holly Bourne

I can’t see that face on a man again. Especially as so many of those men weren’t even all that. It’s exhausting feeling so permanently powerless. What does it say when a man you’re willing to compromise on isn’t willing to compromise on you?

I mean, it doesn’t hurt even the millionth of a fraction compared to being sexually violated, and yet we make the poor men’s feelings more important than the violated women’s.

If only they’d listen rather than call me hysterical,

‘I wasn’t crazy,’ I whisper as I run, thud thud thudding on the floor. ‘You made me crazy.’

‘You can’t quantify damage!’ I throw my hands up, almost losing my towel. ‘Do you have any idea of the privilege you must have to be able to debate sexual violence from a place of emotional detachment?’