The Peanut Chronicles

My hand is bruised, cut and bloody when we leave the “after burial wake”.

Let me give you a disclaimer: I am not a violent person. I am a pacifist. I have been in fights, but they were defense fighting. I knocked my hubby unconscious once. He had cheated on me (before we were married) and that is the only time I have hit someone out of rage and not self-defense. I have seen what violence does to people. I have seen a side of people that I never really wanted to see. And I deal.

HOWEVER….

… Ignorant people really need to bitch slapped upside the head.

Picture this: me, sitting with the evil in-laws and in-law family, at a luncheon table. Bear, getting up to talk with his uncle at another table. Me, passing Nut around and even allowing the EFIL to hold him. As I eat and not say anything to anyone, I realize that the only people at the table not talking are my EFIL and I. He is looking at me expectantly, as if I am supposed to start a conversation. I look at him, with a look of, “what do you want?” on my face.

He starts, “soooo…. Rachel.”

What the fuck is hi s problem? It’s JOANNA!!!

“I heard your book was just published.”

“Yup.” I take a swig of my Illinois manufactured wine and shutter a little. Please, someone ship these folk something from the central California wine area.

“What’s it about?”

”Sexual Assault and Art therapy.”

“Hmmm…. So what made you chose that subject?”

There are many ways that I can answer this question. I could say that one in three women in the USA are raped. I could say that 80% of those women are under the age of 30. I could even tell him that 1 out of 10 assault survivors are actually men. I can say all these things but I tell him the truth.

“My friend was beaten and gang raped when she was 19 by some of her ‘friends’ after drinking at a party with them and going for a walk.”

(And it’s true, I wrote the book for her therapy and, yes, she was one of the volunteers.)

If you are someone who is sensitive to this subject, sit down. If you are a woman sit down. In fact, if you have any sort of conscious at all, sit down.

Now that you are sitting, keep reading…

His response, as he bounces my baby boy on his knee:

“Well, she is to blame for putting herself into that situation. I mean, getting drunk with a bunch of guys and then going off with them…” he shakes his head in disgust.

I see red.

I see white I am so angry.

My hand is closed so tight around my butter knife I feel as though I am going to break it into two pieces.

I can’t breathe. This man. This SON OF A BITCH has said the one thing that is my friend’s reason why she didn’t press charges. He has implied that it was her fault. He has implied she is to blame. This is a feeling that she has flip flopped on for a decade. In fact, although I tell her over and over that none of it was really her fault, she doesn’t believe me. And this motherfucker is bouncing my son on his knee.

I smile and grit my teeth. I slowly put down the butter knife and stand up. I go and grab my Nut out of EFIL’s arms. I smile again. I take my Nutter away from the EFIL and bring him to the Bear. I say nothing, just keep smiling. I leave Nut with Bear and go to the woman’s bathroom. It is deserted. I promptly lock my self in the stall at the end and sit down. I try to calm my self but all I see is the annoying self-righteous smug son of a bitch’s face. All I hear is the comment he made. I want to beat his fucking face in.

Instead, I just punch the wall about four or five times, as hard as I could.

My hand is bleeding when I am done and I go to wash it. small cut, nothing big. I feel a little better. I go back out and pick up Nut. Bear doesn’t notice my hand until we are in the car.

Now my hand is black and blue, but no longer swollen. This is a good thing. Means no broken bones.

I could have done many things in the room. I could have started screaming at him and what a naive ass he was. I could have thrown something at him. I could have stabbed him with a butter knife, or at least blinded him with one. I could have made a large scene. But instead I took my son away from EFIL. Why? If I made a scene, it would have embarrassed the Bear. If I stabbed him in the eyes with my butter knife, I would have been arrested. I do the one thing that I can only think is right: I take the Nut away from him.

I will not… I REFUSE… to have my son grow up thinking that men are better then women and can do what ever they want to them. My son will learn to respect women even if it kills me. Taking Nut away from a man who is so fucked that he would say something like that even though it is common knowledge that his own daughter was raped at a party is the only way that I can see as teaching him a lesson.

I don’t want to be vindictive but am I wrong to be thinking like this?

4 Comments:

SUEB0B said...: That is some fucked up shit.; 9:14 PM
Mamacita Tina said...: Taking Nut away made a clear point without having to get into a "debate" with a man you know will never change his mind.; 6:18 AM
Unknown said...: Luckily my inlaws are crazy, but not THAT crazy. But close.

You did good. I would have gotten into a shouting match. It would not have been pretty. What you did was show that you are the better person.

Me, I have an awful big mouth. Sometimes I wish I could hit a wall instead of scream.; 6:57 AM
princessoctober said...: Oh, man. I can't for the life of me understand this thinking. Its not the same but, I had to ask my grandfather to quit using the word "nigger" in front of my son. My grandfather looked at me confused like thats all they could ever be called. Thankfully, my grandmother stepped in before I schooled him. I don't understand such racism, and such disrespect.
You did the right thing and I applaud you for that..my mouth runs way to much sometimes, and that kind of talk would of sent my mouth flapping at 1000 miles an hour.; 9:20 PM

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