This + the mononoke movies are proof that if you sit around and wait for long enough your favorite media that hasn’t gotten any new content for years will eventually get more
Everyone felt sad for the penguin walking alone and the monkey rejected by his mother. But this video is far more heartbreaking, yet it didn’t receive the same attention.
The men who say, you “can’t make a wife out of a hoe.” The funny thing is, no one says the same thing about men. Let’s fix that:
• You can’t make a husband out of a rapist
• You can’t make a father out of a coward
• You can’t make a partner out of a predator
• You can’t make a fiancé out of a fuckboy
• You can’t make a husband out of a misogynist
• You can’t make a dad out of someone who leaves in postpartum
• You can’t make a partner out of a man who gaslights
• You can’t make a spouse out of a narcissist
• You can’t make a father out of a deadbeat
• You can’t make a partner out of a manipulator
• You can’t make a fiancé out of a controlling asshole
😃
My fellow female doctor was harassed and assaulted by our senior consultant. When she brought it up, everyone called her crazy, and the senior consultant claimed that she was the one trying to hit on him because he is rich and called her a home wrecker (he was married). Her fiancé worked in the same hospital, and he broke off the engagement. She lost her job. She was a brilliant doctor, but rumors spread and she couldn’t find a job anywhere else. Her family abandoned her due to defamation. She couldn’t handle the stress and tried to take her life. After a few months, she was admitted to an asylum, and her life was completely ruined. The fact that women can have a false rumour about them and their whole career can be destroyed, while men can have a whole ass r@pe allegations and still be the president of US…I never want to hear anyone argue that GENDER INEQUALITY doesn’t exist.
“I don’t understand why women don’t just report it if it really happened.”
When I was 19, I reported mine. I had bruises. Hospital photos. Text messages of him apologizing the next morning. My friends drove me to the station because I could barely stop shaking. I thought evidence would make it simple. I thought truth would be enough.
Months later, I was the one on trial. His lawyer printed my Instagram photos and held them up in court. Asked why I wore crop tops. Asked why I drank that night. Asked why I didn’t scream louder. He replayed my police interview and pointed out every time I hesitated, every time I cried, every time my timeline wasn’t perfectly linear. “If it was traumatic,” he said, “why can’t she remember clearly?”
Sitting there while strangers debated my pain like it was a group project felt like being stripped again. My messages were projected on a screen. My body was described in detail. My character was picked apart like that was the real crime.
He walked out on bail. I walked out with panic attacks.
That’s why some women don’t report. Because even with bruises. Even with screenshots. Even when you do everything “right.” You still have to survive the assault twice, once in private, and once in public, just to maybe be believed.
I actually don't want to climb any corporate ladders. I don't care about job titles. I don't need accolades.
I just want to have income to fund my lifestyle, not be depressed, help other people, and be around good humans.
“But you survived”
I disassociate, like a lot.
My heart drops when someone raises their voice.
I shut down very easily.
I'm far too observant.
I always feel like a burden.
I isolate often.
But yeah, sure, I guess I survived.