Women Are Talking
My Life as a Woman: The Screen
I have been told that what I am about to tell you is a reflection on me. I caused it. I carry it. I am damaged goods. A soiled female. A worthless vessel. A throwaway thing. Disposable. Unworthy of respect.
Respect belongs to me only if no man has touched me outside of a sanctioned relationship like marriage. And even then: I could be drugged and raped in my sleep. And if I am, it’s because I chose badly. I deserved it or it wouldn’t have happened. I - and every woman - am the projection of the self-loathing of men.
The first sign of shame is contempt. Men hold women contemptible.
And before anyone jumps in, man or woman, to say not all men:
I have been betrayed by every single man in my life.
Now comes my urge to explain.
No. Just believe me.
Some women are exempt from that contempt by a few men in their lives. IF they adequately fulfill the role given them as mother, daughter, sister, friend, female. So you will see the man who loves and respects his grandmother. His wife, maybe. A daughter.
The Madonna Whore thing. The split is inside the man. His lack of ownership of his own sexuality and selfhood is the source of his projections on women.
On the spectrum of disrespected women I’m low on the scale. Or high. Whatever.
Because from birth I rebelled against my given roles and refused to submit to the patriarchy starting with telling God Himself to fuck off when I was fifteen and left the cult I was born and raised in.
I am my family’s scapegoat.
Scapegoating goes deep, y’all.
I’ve tried to write about it and can’t because no matter what I say, no matter what I do, no matter what I don’t say, no matter what I don’t do - it’s my fault.
Scapegoats have existed since the dawn of humanity. Why?
Because we are all taught original sin. We’ve been told. We were born flawed. Sinful. Unworthy. Bad. Only grace can save us.
Or the scapegoat.
Her! It’s her fault.
Case in point: Donald Trump, interviewed by Nora O’Donnell about the latest assassination spectacle, when asked about the would-be assassin’s own words in which he said he was going after pedophiles, told Nora, “I think it’s a disgrace that you would even say that. That’s a terrible thing for you to say.”
Nora corrected him, “I’m reading his words, sir.”
Trump continued to shame her. “You should be ashamed of yourself. You’re a disgrace.”
A perfect example of how projection works.
With Trump, it’s so obvious it almost reads as exaggeration—except it isn’t. But to MAGA—and to a large percentage of the population—it’s not obvious at all. Why? Because that’s how projection works.
Case in point: Andrew Tate.
Case in point: Epstein.
Case in point: Weinstein.
Case in point: Prince Andrew.
Case in point: [fill in the blank].
Case in point: my own father. When I confronted him about sexually assaulting a child, he turned vicious, “You were born without a soul,” he hissed. “Lolita wasn’t blameless.”
“You’re just like your great grandma Martha (rumored to be a witch).” He went on.
He evoked his mother, the Madonna, “What would your grandma think of you now looking down (presumably from heaven)?” To my father, I was the prototype of the slut, the whore, the witch, contemptible.
Instead of gathering me to him and guiding me, protecting me, helping me embody and know my value and worth, he told me at fifteen, “I don’t care if you’re a slut, but if you hurt your Mother again, I’ll kill you.”
This, during the time in which I was being raped and blackmailed by a group of boys in high school. I’ve always vaguely wondered if they managed - as they threatened they would - to get one of the photographs they took of me during the rape into my father’s hands. I was nothing but a slut in his eyes.
In contrast, Mark Greene on ER has one mission as he’s dying: reach Rachel, his fourteen-year-old daughter. He refuses to leave the planet before he’s reached her—past the hurt—as her father.
Mine left the planet and reached beyond the grave with a final insult —disinheritance.
It took me until MeToo—and watching Promising Young Woman—to see it:
My father’s contempt for me was never about me. It was about his own shame—for his sexuality, his desire. And I was the nearest place to put it. His daughter. The object.
That’s not an easy thing for a daughter to recognize.
Though I’d done years of healing work, this was the first time I felt the shame shift. It was always his.
And the men who preyed on me were acting out their own shame and disgust for themselves.
It was never me.
It’s not easy being the screen for men’s projections—the object in the frame. Ask any woman.
Ask Virginia Giuffre.
Ask Anita Hill.
Ask Monica Lewinsky.
Ask Christine Blasey Ford.
Ask Gisèle Pelicot.
Ask us. Because women are talking.
Listen:
From ProfessorMeredith:
One Thing
On Repeat
I used to play this on repeat, not knowing what I was hearing—what it was asking of me.
If we knew the truth—that original sin is a lie—we would not need to project and scapegoat. In case you missed it:
Press the heart so more people can see this. Your support matters. Reach out anytime in my DMs or by email. I love hearing from you. ❤️🔥
Thanks for speaking up for those of us who have not found the right words to do so. I’m writing a piece of my own experience after marrying then divorcing a man 25 years my senior. It’s hard and I’m working through all the moments of “why did I even accept that?” To not blame myself anymore for all the healing I’ve had to do 🪷🌱
They tried to strip us of our power, belittle us, humiliate us. They succeeded for a time, but not anymore. We don’t believe them. We never really did. Love to you!