Not every space belongs to everyone
- Melissa Herrera: Not Waiting for Friday
- February 19, 2023
- 2157
Several weeks ago I wrote an article about a complex being built in Holmes County that will help girls age 14-19 who have been sexually trafficked and abused. I received many positive comments about the story as I’ve been out and about in my community. Lots of money has been raised for it to be built, and land has been given for this very worthy project. Land is a precious commodity here and not one we part with easily, but every child also is a precious commodity.
It felt good to know people thought it was a good thing. But I wonder if it’s because we will not know the girls who stay there or where they came from. We will feel good knowing none of them are from our area.
We often cannot believe sexual abuse and misconduct are happening, so we seek quick rehabilitation and forgiveness and put our hands over the victims’ mouths, leaving them to falter. When someone tells you to forgive and move on, the focus is on the person who committed the crime, not the person who needs protected.
And that is something for us to think about because while everyone deserves a second chance, not everyone deserves to be in every space.
If you’d seen me the other Friday, you’d have seen fire come out of my head and in the next second a crumpling into my chair. Something had caught my eye in an article, and I was instantly ablaze.
But I remind myself I have a pen to use, and I pick that up today.
Eighteen years ago my heart broke in half when someone I love deeply was assaulted. Many of you know me personally, and some of you know me only through my writing. Some things I’ve never written about in public because they are too painful to rekindle, until they are rekindled for you.
Especially in small towns, people who do bad things are rehabilitated and given every opportunity to flourish. “This person deserves a second chance,” we say. “They made a big mistake and need forgiveness.” And I agree with this. I am grateful for second chances in my own life and those of people close to me.
But memories fade, and life moves on for everyone except the ones who were harmed. For them it takes time and a lot of space from accusing eyes to gather themselves into someone who can thrive freely — because their existence is an inconvenient truth, a reminder.
I don’t like the word “victim,” but it has had a weakness injected into it that has taken the severity out of what it means. Its literal definition is “someone who is harmed or injured, a person who is tricked or duped.”
We should be educated on what a victim looks like. The person who did the bad thing is not a hero or leader, but someone who should be given the chance to move on with their life. They are human, but there are places that should be off limits to them. Wisdom means carefully choosing where to tell their journey.
In my experience none of these life-affirming actions, chances or words were readily given to my loved one. Instead, a barrage of abuse and disbelief followed. Then they left this area, when they could, because there would never be an opportunity to excel in the very place they were born.
During a traumatic event, words stick with you. Sometimes they do break your bones. Here are some of the words that still stay with me:
“How will the 14-year-olds be punished?”
“Why aren’t the 14-year-olds going to jail too?”
“Why was this reported to the police instead of bringing pastors together?”
“His life and career are now ruined.”
“Those 14-year-olds knew what they were doing.”
“Those 14-year-olds look much older than they are.”
“He would get less jail time for killing those 14-year-olds than for this charge.”
Sexual abuse and misconduct don’t look like one thing. It can look like a husband who demands his wife stay at home so she can’t look at other men, then beating her anyway, or someone who uses their power and fame to prey on middle-schoolers. It looks like the face of an abducted and trafficked 8-year-old as well as the budding beauty of a 14-year-old child.
We want to hear the abuser has repented so we can shuffle it under the rug but run away from the inconvenient words of the harmed. And sometimes, years later, when everything has been nearly forgotten, we dust off that old pedestal and set them in front of 14- to 18-year-olds to talk about leadership.
And today I’m thankful for my loved one who is thriving despite it all. My heart hopes anyone who is being abused will find someone to confide in, listen and a community that believes.
Melissa Herrera is a columnist, published author and drinker of too many coffees based in Holmes County. You can find her book, “TOÑO LIVES,” at www.tinyurl.com/Tonolives or buy one from her in person (because all authors have boxes of their own novel). For inquiries or to purchase, email her at junkbabe68@gmail.com.