It was an odd night for me in that it was after 8p.m. and I was out at a bar instead of asleep in my cozy bed.
I was sitting with some friends from school in one of the local pubs and enjoying a cold glass of water and some boiled-to-death broccoli off my friend's plate. I spotted another classmate and invited him to sit with us. He was eventually joined by a girl I knew and a guy I didn't.
The guy was a Nordic type-tall, blond, blue-eyed. I was told he spoke German so I greeted him in that language. He said I had an Irish-sounding accent.
I am a woman of many strange talents, apparently.
I didn't catch his name but it doesn't matter. I'll refer to him here as Schweinhund.
A friend and I were discussing the recent Supreme Court rulings we didn't agree with and I sarcastically mentioned Citizens United. That's when Schweinhund spoke up and told me firmly that I could not use sarcasm to discuss that case and that I should be ashamed of myself for making such a mockery of something so serious.
My first response was to say, "I hope you're joking." When I saw that he was not, I informed him that everyone had different ways of expressing distaste with things they don't agree with and that mine happened to be the use of sarcasm. I then made it clear that he had no control over my life and no authority to tell me what I could, couldn't, should or shouldn't do.
He responded by saying that the Justices should be tried for treason and hanged. I replied that I definitively did not agree and reached for my glass of water.
"Oh, now that the conversation has turned to the death penalty you're going to try to sober up," he said.
I gave him a withering glance and informed him that I hadn't been drinking alcohol. I turned my back on him then and pretended not to hear him complaining about me to my other friend.
But hear him I did, especially when he later mentioned the words "my bastard child" and "adoption."
I turned back to him and asked if he was considering adoption. As someone who has participated in an open adoption I had plenty of good things to say about the process.
But that wasn't what he was saying. He explained to me that "some girl" was claiming that he was the father of her child and that she just needed someone to sign away the parental rights so she could put the child up for adoption. He also said that he didn't even know if the kid was his or not.
Here's the story, from the mouth of the Schweinhund:
He had dated this stripper, she already had four kids and lived in government subsidized housing. She had come out to visit him and they had hooked up and she had plead with him to take off the condom. It was like she had a pathological need to be knocked up. He complied, but only for a second. She called him a few weeks later and told him she was pregnant.There was just no way the kid was his. It was impossible. It had only been a second. She said she wanted money for an abortion and he sent it to her. She changed her mind and said she was going to do an adoption. Then she called him again and said she was all alone and felt a growing connection to the baby. She was crazy and was trying to "trap" him and have the good life. He was 90K in debt and it wasn't going to happen.
I kept waiting for him to tell me how she had pulled out a Kalashnikov and forced him to remove the condom but alas, no. How then had he been obligated?
Also, what was with the condescending tone when stating that she's a stripper? What does it say about Schweinhund that he knew she was struggling to support her family and he indulged in unprotected sex anyway?
I pointed out the fact that the woman didn't get pregnant on her own and he said that he knew that and accepted responsibility for his actions (it sure didn't sound that way). He claimed he would go before the judge and tell him what an irresponsible person the stripper witch was and ask for full custody so he could raise the child himself (it sounded like something a villainous character in a Victorian novel would do to save his own "honor").
I told him that being a single parent was very difficult and he said he knew but would make it work somehow. This last bit softened me somewhat.... well, that and the idea of him up at 2a.m. trying to make formula and change a poop diaper at the same time. Heh.
I didn't get to ask anymore questions because his current girlfriend showed up and he asked us not to say anything because "she didn't know."
I complied although, I wish I hadn't. I should have at least managed a coughing fit in which I issued the words "double bag it" but I didn't.
As a woman who has gone through two pregnancies alone while the fathers were out partying, sleeping around and acting like I didn't exist, I can't just shrug things like this off.
I know what a toll pregnancy takes on the body and how attached a mother becomes to her baby.
With my oldest daughter I remember how hard I had to work earn a decent wage to support the two of us. I also remember how society looked down on me and how her father got away with paying almost nothing in child support.
When I think of these things it makes me want to find Schweinhund again and give him a good swift kick in the sperm gun. But I won't.
There's no need to resort to violence when there are so many delicious opportunities for public shame.
Saturday, March 17, 2012
Friday, March 16, 2012
Forever Young-ish
As the parent of a 13-year-old teenosaur, I was bound to discover the neon hipster paradise known as "Forever 21" sooner or later.
What I wasn't expecting was to find things I wanted for myself- but I did.
I bought items that a woman at my stage of life can wear without appearing like a Barbie trying to outrun menopause.
In light of this I have re-christened the store "Eternally 33." I think it gives it a note of dignity.
To your left is a photo of the bright red peacoat I bought recently. It was admired by many a classmate.
A hairstylist was also complementary until she took it from me to hang up and discovered the label. The magic went out of our banter after that.
I went back yesterday with my daughter and bought myself a little black number that I plan on wearing next time I go out to Nepenthe.
Look y'all, if you could get a bag full of decent clothes for under $100 why wouldn't you?
You'll have to use your critical eye because there are a lot of lame pant suits, 70s sitcom wear and Navajo wannabe prints to wade through.
And don't forget your sunglasses- the day-glo swimsuits can do a number on your eyes.
What I wasn't expecting was to find things I wanted for myself- but I did.
I bought items that a woman at my stage of life can wear without appearing like a Barbie trying to outrun menopause.
 |
| Look at this peacoat tell me she's broke |
To your left is a photo of the bright red peacoat I bought recently. It was admired by many a classmate.
A hairstylist was also complementary until she took it from me to hang up and discovered the label. The magic went out of our banter after that.
I went back yesterday with my daughter and bought myself a little black number that I plan on wearing next time I go out to Nepenthe.
Look y'all, if you could get a bag full of decent clothes for under $100 why wouldn't you?
You'll have to use your critical eye because there are a lot of lame pant suits, 70s sitcom wear and Navajo wannabe prints to wade through.
And don't forget your sunglasses- the day-glo swimsuits can do a number on your eyes.
Wednesday, March 07, 2012
My Rape in the U.S. Coast Guard
Why I Joined
I joined the Coast Guard in 2007. At that time, my family and I were living in Mexico and my spouse was an officer in the Mexican Navy. Things had become so violent and insecure there that we decided to move back to the U.S. for the safety of our two children.
In order to get a resident visa for my spouse, I had to be gainfully employed. The Coast Guard caught my attention because, at the time, they had just captured one of the heads of the Arellano Felix cartel that controlled Tijuana.
I visited a recruiter for the Coast Guard thinking that my college degree in journalism, my four years of professional experience as a reporter, my prior U.S. Army service in the field of intelligence and the fact that I was fluent in three languages would make me a valuable addition to that branch of the military.
I was sent to basic training in Cape May, New Jersey and graduated two months later. My husband got his K3 visa and I got assigned to a Small Boat Station Humboldt Bay.
Any silly illusions I might have had about being valued for my background quickly disappeared when I arrived at the boat station.
Think of a hospital hiring a doctor to work as a janitor. That's what the Coast Guard did to me. In order to join, I had to give up my prior rank with the army. At the station I was expected to scrub toilets, clean up the galley, stand all night watches and teach myself everything I needed to know about our boats so I could become a qualified boat crew member. I was called a non-rate. It was a non-rate's job to do all the jobs the petty officers didn't feel like doing. This gave them more free time to put their feet up on coffee tables and watch sports while on duty.
In order to leave the boat station, I needed to go to an advanced training known as an "A-school." The Coast Guard wouldn't allow me to put my name on an "A-school" list until I had been in for four months. The master chief at our station wouldn't allow anyone to put their name on the list until they were boat crew qualified. Although this was against Commandant's policy, I was told "That's just the way it is."
I mentioned my journalism degree. The Coast Guard has its own journalists known as PAs. The waiting list to go to the Public Affairs A-school was about a year and a half. Between petty officers not being available for sign-offs on my boat crew qualifications and one of the boats being disabled when both were needed for certain sign-offs, it took me over a year to get qualified.
I also wondered why I should have to wait a year-and-a-half to go to a four month journalism school when I had a four-year degree in the subject and several years of experience as a journalist.
I was required to stay at the boat station for two days at a time and I lived there every other weekend. While this was going on, I began to have problems at home with my husband. He refused to look for a job or speak English and he began to be verbally abusive toward my daughter.
When I went to my command and told them what was going on at home they said it sounded like I was having trouble adjusting to the military and that maybe I shouldn't be there. They also accused me of exaggerating about my husband's language difficulties by saying that our neighbor (who also worked at the station) had talked to him several times and claimed that his English was just fine. Apparently, my husband's ability to say "hello" "yes" and "thank you" made him a fluent English speaker and me a liar.
Once, I had trouble lifting a training dummy out of the sea and into our boat by myself. When we got back to the station I was called into the office and told by the BM1 that the master chief hadn't liked my inability to lift the training dummy and that I was going to be put on a special training program. He said that the station's standing orders required each member to be able to lift 180 pounds by themself and that if I could not do this, the station would consider out-processing me from the Coast Guard for "failure to adapt."
At the station there was a female petty officer who worked during the day as a Store Keeper. It was her job to order supplies for the station. I asked when she had last been required to lift 180 pounds to prove that she was fit to order supplies for the boat station.
It was ridiculous to suggest that if I wasn't fit to do the job of a BM (the people who drive the boats) or MK (the people who fix the boats) then there was no place for me in all the Coast Guard with all its varying career fields. I later found out that there was no requirement that the members of the boat station be able to lift 180 pounds on their own.
As time went by, the command made their contempt for me more and more obvious.
The Rape
Things became worse at home. I tried to work things out with my husband but between the humiliating things that were taking place at work and the complete lack of help or effort on his part at home, I reached a point were I couldn't take it anymore and I asked him to leave.
I had to go to my command and tell them what had happened and that I was now a single parent. They put me on a day shift Monday through Friday and things seemed to improve almost immediately.
One weekend after my husband had left, I got invited to go out drinking with a group of coworkers from my station. I was excited about going out and I looked forward to bonding with my fellow Coasties.
There were six of us that night. I liked all of them and was enjoying their company. I had three drinks in total which ended up being more than I could handle. While I was talking and drinking I noticed the guy I'll call "M" watching me closely with a big grin on his face. I didn't think much of it at the time.
The group soon decided to move to the bar next door. When I got up to follow them I had trouble walking and realized I was really drunk. There was an area at the back of that bar with ping pong tables and I remember laughing and trying to play the game with my friend B.
As we were playing, M stood nearby and seemed to be watching me. When B left he came up to me and said that I looked like I might need to sit down and rest. He said his apartment was close by and promised to give me some water and a quiet place to sober up. It sounded like a great idea.
As I stumbled along the sidewalk toward his apartment he told me he had always had a "thing" for me. I laughed and concentrated on not falling over. Once I was seated on the couch he brought me a glass of water. While I drank from it, he sat down right next to me. I felt like he was sitting too close to I got up with some difficulty and moved myself away from him to the other sofa in his living room. He followed me there and sat down next to me again. At some point, he put his hand under my dress and stuck his fingers inside me. I remember the idea that I was somehow "ruined" running through my head.
I don't remember how we got into his room but the next thing I knew my dress was lying on the floor and then I was on the bed. With slurred speech I asked him to get a condom. I felt like I couldn't get away from him. Then we was on top of me and I was looking out the window in his room at the rooftop and thinking it would be a nice place to sit on a sunny day.
He finished and I stumbled toward my dress so I could put it back on.
He left me there to go back to the bar to get something.
His phone had a text message from one of the other guys in our group saying "Not Kelly."
I felt really bad and decided I was going to get out of there and walk home. As I was walking out of his apartment he pulled up beside me in his car and insisted I get in. I let him drive me home and he dropped me off in front of my house.
The next morning I woke up feeling confused and upset by what had happened.
I had been so drunk that I could barely stand when M had offered to help me. Because he was someone I knew, liked and trusted, I didn't think anything of following him to his house.
I saw that he had isolated me from my peers. His behavior appeared calculating and predatory.
I knew I had been raped.
I wrote about what had happened and posted it to this blog.
Anyone who read it would have known I had been raped.
I told my two closest friends from the station what had happened. They had both been out with me that night. One of them said she had seen him go off with women like this before the other one just shook his head.
Remarkably, both of these individuals went on being friends with my rapist and continued to hang out with him as if nothing had happened.
One Monday while I was standing watch at the station one of the petty officers came up and said, "I read your blog and when I asked M about it he said you guys just talked and then he took you home."
Of course he did.
Later M came up and said he was sorry. He didn't say why he was sorry but he seemed to want me to believe there had been some sort of misunderstanding between us.
Apparently, I misunderstood that "sit quietly at my apartment and drink water" really meant "I'm going to sexually assault you while you are too intoxicated to do anything about it."
I was too afraid to report what had happened to my command because they had already made it clear that they didn't think I belonged in "their" Coast Guard.
Something else would happen within the next few days to strengthen the idea that my silence was the best choice.
The master chief called me into his office and told me he couldn't have me standing watch every day because he needed people who could work on the boats (Never mind that he had to have someone on watch at all times anyway and that that person was usually taken off the boat to do the job). He went on to say that he had every right to kick me out of the Coast Guard for not being "world wide deployable" but had decided instead to send me to nearby Group Humboldt Bay to work with the Yeomen.
Being available for world wide deployment is a big deal in most branches of the military where new troops are constantly needed to replace existing forces in a combat zone. However, the Coast Guard does not send members to combat zones and I was fully capable of completing the requirements of many of the Coast Guard's domestic jobs.
Before letting me leave his office, the master chief told me that I had wasted his and everyone else's time at the boat station. This was particularly cruel because he knew that my marriage was ending and that I was having to care for two children on my own. Also, there is no way I could have known that that would happen when I arrived at his boat station. "Make sure your marriage fails" was not on my to do list when I arrived at Humboldt Bay.
The Confrontation
I moved to the larger Group Humboldt Bay soon after my talk with the master chief and really started to enjoy my job. I had a great mentor and a friendly work environment where I could thrive. I had begun to strike as a Yeoman which meant I was getting on-the-job training for that particular Coast Guard rate. I had also just passed an important test that would allow me to eventually become a petty officer.
A few days after I had passed the test my supervisor asked me to follow him down the hall. I had no idea what was going on.
The mood was grim when I stepped into a conference room and saw that the Executive Officer, the Command Master Chief, the officer in charge of Intelligence Operations, the lieutenant in charge of my office were watching me from their seats and not smiling. The chief that had escorted me in told me to have a seat.
I noticed a pile of papers sitting on the table. They were print-outs from my blog "The Eventual Mexican."
The XO told me I was there because he and the other men were concerned that some of the things I had written on my blog were a security breach for the Coast Guard.
I was mortified by the accusation and I began to shuffle through the print-outs to see what they were talking about.
One of the posts I came across was the one where I had described being raped by my co-worker.
The Intel Officer said that I had given descriptions of our station's boat activities and seemed to believe that terrorist might use that information to attack us.
The XO expressed his disappointment with what I had written and I was instructed to remove those posts. I was also given a Page 7 which is a form of disciplinary notice that goes in a member's permanent record.
I left the room feeling embarrassed and frightened that I had almost lost my job.
In the days that followed, I kept thinking about what had been said to me during the meeting and I began to grow angry.
Here's why:
1.The Humboldt Bay boat station can easily be seen by any resident of Eureka who happens to be looking across the bay. There is no fence or protecting feature that hides it from the public view.
2.There are no set schedules for boat movements at that station. We went out at random times to train or at even more random times when some mariner was in distress. Therefore, it is impossible to say that the station will have a boat at X location at X hour on X day. What is possible however, is for any observer to see such comings and goings with the naked eye whenever they do occur.
3.There was more information about the Coast Guard and its missions on the Coast Guard's official webpage than anything I ever wrote on my blog.
What the official Coast Guard website didn't have were documents from one of its members detailing abuses committed by her command and how she was raped by a co-worker.
I had been taught that public relations were very important to the Coast Guard and that the public's trust of our organization was essential.
This trust was so essential that when I wrote about the appalling things that had been done to me by the Coast Guard, immediate action was taken to silence me and make my testimony disappear.
This trust was so essential that a room full of authority figures were able read a first-hand account of my rape and not feel the slightest need to make further inquiry into the matter.
After I Left
Not long after I was honorably discharged from the Coast Guard I got a call from our legal office in Alameda. It turned out that one of the married officers I had worked with had been sending sexually suggestive messages to several women. He had also had affairs with some of them. JAG told me he had targeted women that were in some sort of difficulties with their husbands or significant others.
They pulled up records of all the instant messages that he had foolishly sent over the Coast Guard's internal messaging system. Some indecent messages had been sent to me as well and they wanted to get my statement. I had to go back through memories I had blocked out of conversations with this man that would start out harmless and gradually escalate to something improper.
When I received the messages I was working at another station that was four hours away from him and I did not work under his command. Some of the other women did. Fortunately I didn't have to see him on a daily basis.
He called me once and I lectured him about his behavior and reminded him that he was married. I made it clear that I didn't mess around with married men and he stopped talking to me for a while after that.
During the time that I was speaking with the JAG officers a lot of anger towards the rape and my old command started to come out.
"What the hell?" I thought, "I'm out of the service now. I can speak freely about what happened to me and no one can threaten to ruin my life over it."
I told the women about my rape and about how my command treated me at station Humboldt Bay.
Soon I got a phone call from another female officer who was investigating a complaint about the command climate at Station Humboldt Bay. The complaint had been filed by a female who had been stationed there under the same master chief as me. The officer wanted to get a statement from me because some of what I was complaining about bore a striking resemblance to the complaint of the other female at the station.
The second thing that came about was my officially filing a report against my rapist with the Coast Guard Investigating Service.
I cannot fully describe the relief I felt in doing so. I had always feared that my silence would mean that another woman would be victimized by the person who assaulted me. Finally I spoke out.
During my time in the Coast Guard I was ignored when I became depressed and asked my doctor for help, marked low on my employee review because of pregnancy-related issues, subjected to non judicial punishment for standing up to a coworker who was misusing his authority and failing to do his job and forced to constantly witness gross acts of abuse and intimidation by people of high rank towards those with lower rank. For these reasons and many others, I left the Coast Guard when my four years were up.
I had the opportunity to meet with the XO at my last command and tell him all the reasons why I was leaving the military and would never consider coming back. He said it sounded like my entire time in the Coast Guard had been a "worst case scenario."
What he didn't seem to understand is that these kinds of experiences are common in his organization. They happen every day.
People who speak out are told to "suck it up" or that they don't belong in the military if they can't handle the way they are treated. Others who have tried to report sexual assault are often recommended for medical discharge for "personality disorders" or "failure to adapt" as in, "failure to adapt to being raped and then watching your rapist go unpunished, get promoted and go on with his career."
Until the Pentagon stops pretending that their current sexual assault training is working and puts an end to commanders getting to decided arbitrarily if someone is guilty of rape or not, nothing will improve for the thousands of individuals who have been the victims sexual assault and the thousands more who could be.
I joined the Coast Guard in 2007. At that time, my family and I were living in Mexico and my spouse was an officer in the Mexican Navy. Things had become so violent and insecure there that we decided to move back to the U.S. for the safety of our two children.
In order to get a resident visa for my spouse, I had to be gainfully employed. The Coast Guard caught my attention because, at the time, they had just captured one of the heads of the Arellano Felix cartel that controlled Tijuana.
I visited a recruiter for the Coast Guard thinking that my college degree in journalism, my four years of professional experience as a reporter, my prior U.S. Army service in the field of intelligence and the fact that I was fluent in three languages would make me a valuable addition to that branch of the military.
I was sent to basic training in Cape May, New Jersey and graduated two months later. My husband got his K3 visa and I got assigned to a Small Boat Station Humboldt Bay.
Any silly illusions I might have had about being valued for my background quickly disappeared when I arrived at the boat station.
Think of a hospital hiring a doctor to work as a janitor. That's what the Coast Guard did to me. In order to join, I had to give up my prior rank with the army. At the station I was expected to scrub toilets, clean up the galley, stand all night watches and teach myself everything I needed to know about our boats so I could become a qualified boat crew member. I was called a non-rate. It was a non-rate's job to do all the jobs the petty officers didn't feel like doing. This gave them more free time to put their feet up on coffee tables and watch sports while on duty.
In order to leave the boat station, I needed to go to an advanced training known as an "A-school." The Coast Guard wouldn't allow me to put my name on an "A-school" list until I had been in for four months. The master chief at our station wouldn't allow anyone to put their name on the list until they were boat crew qualified. Although this was against Commandant's policy, I was told "That's just the way it is."
I mentioned my journalism degree. The Coast Guard has its own journalists known as PAs. The waiting list to go to the Public Affairs A-school was about a year and a half. Between petty officers not being available for sign-offs on my boat crew qualifications and one of the boats being disabled when both were needed for certain sign-offs, it took me over a year to get qualified.
I also wondered why I should have to wait a year-and-a-half to go to a four month journalism school when I had a four-year degree in the subject and several years of experience as a journalist.
I was required to stay at the boat station for two days at a time and I lived there every other weekend. While this was going on, I began to have problems at home with my husband. He refused to look for a job or speak English and he began to be verbally abusive toward my daughter.
When I went to my command and told them what was going on at home they said it sounded like I was having trouble adjusting to the military and that maybe I shouldn't be there. They also accused me of exaggerating about my husband's language difficulties by saying that our neighbor (who also worked at the station) had talked to him several times and claimed that his English was just fine. Apparently, my husband's ability to say "hello" "yes" and "thank you" made him a fluent English speaker and me a liar.
Once, I had trouble lifting a training dummy out of the sea and into our boat by myself. When we got back to the station I was called into the office and told by the BM1 that the master chief hadn't liked my inability to lift the training dummy and that I was going to be put on a special training program. He said that the station's standing orders required each member to be able to lift 180 pounds by themself and that if I could not do this, the station would consider out-processing me from the Coast Guard for "failure to adapt."
At the station there was a female petty officer who worked during the day as a Store Keeper. It was her job to order supplies for the station. I asked when she had last been required to lift 180 pounds to prove that she was fit to order supplies for the boat station.
It was ridiculous to suggest that if I wasn't fit to do the job of a BM (the people who drive the boats) or MK (the people who fix the boats) then there was no place for me in all the Coast Guard with all its varying career fields. I later found out that there was no requirement that the members of the boat station be able to lift 180 pounds on their own.
As time went by, the command made their contempt for me more and more obvious.
The Rape
Things became worse at home. I tried to work things out with my husband but between the humiliating things that were taking place at work and the complete lack of help or effort on his part at home, I reached a point were I couldn't take it anymore and I asked him to leave.
I had to go to my command and tell them what had happened and that I was now a single parent. They put me on a day shift Monday through Friday and things seemed to improve almost immediately.
One weekend after my husband had left, I got invited to go out drinking with a group of coworkers from my station. I was excited about going out and I looked forward to bonding with my fellow Coasties.
There were six of us that night. I liked all of them and was enjoying their company. I had three drinks in total which ended up being more than I could handle. While I was talking and drinking I noticed the guy I'll call "M" watching me closely with a big grin on his face. I didn't think much of it at the time.
The group soon decided to move to the bar next door. When I got up to follow them I had trouble walking and realized I was really drunk. There was an area at the back of that bar with ping pong tables and I remember laughing and trying to play the game with my friend B.
As we were playing, M stood nearby and seemed to be watching me. When B left he came up to me and said that I looked like I might need to sit down and rest. He said his apartment was close by and promised to give me some water and a quiet place to sober up. It sounded like a great idea.
As I stumbled along the sidewalk toward his apartment he told me he had always had a "thing" for me. I laughed and concentrated on not falling over. Once I was seated on the couch he brought me a glass of water. While I drank from it, he sat down right next to me. I felt like he was sitting too close to I got up with some difficulty and moved myself away from him to the other sofa in his living room. He followed me there and sat down next to me again. At some point, he put his hand under my dress and stuck his fingers inside me. I remember the idea that I was somehow "ruined" running through my head.
I don't remember how we got into his room but the next thing I knew my dress was lying on the floor and then I was on the bed. With slurred speech I asked him to get a condom. I felt like I couldn't get away from him. Then we was on top of me and I was looking out the window in his room at the rooftop and thinking it would be a nice place to sit on a sunny day.
He finished and I stumbled toward my dress so I could put it back on.
He left me there to go back to the bar to get something.
His phone had a text message from one of the other guys in our group saying "Not Kelly."
I felt really bad and decided I was going to get out of there and walk home. As I was walking out of his apartment he pulled up beside me in his car and insisted I get in. I let him drive me home and he dropped me off in front of my house.
The next morning I woke up feeling confused and upset by what had happened.
I had been so drunk that I could barely stand when M had offered to help me. Because he was someone I knew, liked and trusted, I didn't think anything of following him to his house.
I saw that he had isolated me from my peers. His behavior appeared calculating and predatory.
I knew I had been raped.
I wrote about what had happened and posted it to this blog.
Anyone who read it would have known I had been raped.
I told my two closest friends from the station what had happened. They had both been out with me that night. One of them said she had seen him go off with women like this before the other one just shook his head.
Remarkably, both of these individuals went on being friends with my rapist and continued to hang out with him as if nothing had happened.
One Monday while I was standing watch at the station one of the petty officers came up and said, "I read your blog and when I asked M about it he said you guys just talked and then he took you home."
Of course he did.
Later M came up and said he was sorry. He didn't say why he was sorry but he seemed to want me to believe there had been some sort of misunderstanding between us.
Apparently, I misunderstood that "sit quietly at my apartment and drink water" really meant "I'm going to sexually assault you while you are too intoxicated to do anything about it."
I was too afraid to report what had happened to my command because they had already made it clear that they didn't think I belonged in "their" Coast Guard.
Something else would happen within the next few days to strengthen the idea that my silence was the best choice.
The master chief called me into his office and told me he couldn't have me standing watch every day because he needed people who could work on the boats (Never mind that he had to have someone on watch at all times anyway and that that person was usually taken off the boat to do the job). He went on to say that he had every right to kick me out of the Coast Guard for not being "world wide deployable" but had decided instead to send me to nearby Group Humboldt Bay to work with the Yeomen.
Being available for world wide deployment is a big deal in most branches of the military where new troops are constantly needed to replace existing forces in a combat zone. However, the Coast Guard does not send members to combat zones and I was fully capable of completing the requirements of many of the Coast Guard's domestic jobs.
Before letting me leave his office, the master chief told me that I had wasted his and everyone else's time at the boat station. This was particularly cruel because he knew that my marriage was ending and that I was having to care for two children on my own. Also, there is no way I could have known that that would happen when I arrived at his boat station. "Make sure your marriage fails" was not on my to do list when I arrived at Humboldt Bay.
The Confrontation
I moved to the larger Group Humboldt Bay soon after my talk with the master chief and really started to enjoy my job. I had a great mentor and a friendly work environment where I could thrive. I had begun to strike as a Yeoman which meant I was getting on-the-job training for that particular Coast Guard rate. I had also just passed an important test that would allow me to eventually become a petty officer.
A few days after I had passed the test my supervisor asked me to follow him down the hall. I had no idea what was going on.
The mood was grim when I stepped into a conference room and saw that the Executive Officer, the Command Master Chief, the officer in charge of Intelligence Operations, the lieutenant in charge of my office were watching me from their seats and not smiling. The chief that had escorted me in told me to have a seat.
I noticed a pile of papers sitting on the table. They were print-outs from my blog "The Eventual Mexican."
The XO told me I was there because he and the other men were concerned that some of the things I had written on my blog were a security breach for the Coast Guard.
I was mortified by the accusation and I began to shuffle through the print-outs to see what they were talking about.
One of the posts I came across was the one where I had described being raped by my co-worker.
The Intel Officer said that I had given descriptions of our station's boat activities and seemed to believe that terrorist might use that information to attack us.
The XO expressed his disappointment with what I had written and I was instructed to remove those posts. I was also given a Page 7 which is a form of disciplinary notice that goes in a member's permanent record.
I left the room feeling embarrassed and frightened that I had almost lost my job.
In the days that followed, I kept thinking about what had been said to me during the meeting and I began to grow angry.
Here's why:
1.The Humboldt Bay boat station can easily be seen by any resident of Eureka who happens to be looking across the bay. There is no fence or protecting feature that hides it from the public view.
2.There are no set schedules for boat movements at that station. We went out at random times to train or at even more random times when some mariner was in distress. Therefore, it is impossible to say that the station will have a boat at X location at X hour on X day. What is possible however, is for any observer to see such comings and goings with the naked eye whenever they do occur.
3.There was more information about the Coast Guard and its missions on the Coast Guard's official webpage than anything I ever wrote on my blog.
What the official Coast Guard website didn't have were documents from one of its members detailing abuses committed by her command and how she was raped by a co-worker.
I had been taught that public relations were very important to the Coast Guard and that the public's trust of our organization was essential.
This trust was so essential that when I wrote about the appalling things that had been done to me by the Coast Guard, immediate action was taken to silence me and make my testimony disappear.
This trust was so essential that a room full of authority figures were able read a first-hand account of my rape and not feel the slightest need to make further inquiry into the matter.
After I Left
Not long after I was honorably discharged from the Coast Guard I got a call from our legal office in Alameda. It turned out that one of the married officers I had worked with had been sending sexually suggestive messages to several women. He had also had affairs with some of them. JAG told me he had targeted women that were in some sort of difficulties with their husbands or significant others.
They pulled up records of all the instant messages that he had foolishly sent over the Coast Guard's internal messaging system. Some indecent messages had been sent to me as well and they wanted to get my statement. I had to go back through memories I had blocked out of conversations with this man that would start out harmless and gradually escalate to something improper.
When I received the messages I was working at another station that was four hours away from him and I did not work under his command. Some of the other women did. Fortunately I didn't have to see him on a daily basis.
He called me once and I lectured him about his behavior and reminded him that he was married. I made it clear that I didn't mess around with married men and he stopped talking to me for a while after that.
During the time that I was speaking with the JAG officers a lot of anger towards the rape and my old command started to come out.
"What the hell?" I thought, "I'm out of the service now. I can speak freely about what happened to me and no one can threaten to ruin my life over it."
I told the women about my rape and about how my command treated me at station Humboldt Bay.
Soon I got a phone call from another female officer who was investigating a complaint about the command climate at Station Humboldt Bay. The complaint had been filed by a female who had been stationed there under the same master chief as me. The officer wanted to get a statement from me because some of what I was complaining about bore a striking resemblance to the complaint of the other female at the station.
The second thing that came about was my officially filing a report against my rapist with the Coast Guard Investigating Service.
I cannot fully describe the relief I felt in doing so. I had always feared that my silence would mean that another woman would be victimized by the person who assaulted me. Finally I spoke out.
During my time in the Coast Guard I was ignored when I became depressed and asked my doctor for help, marked low on my employee review because of pregnancy-related issues, subjected to non judicial punishment for standing up to a coworker who was misusing his authority and failing to do his job and forced to constantly witness gross acts of abuse and intimidation by people of high rank towards those with lower rank. For these reasons and many others, I left the Coast Guard when my four years were up.
I had the opportunity to meet with the XO at my last command and tell him all the reasons why I was leaving the military and would never consider coming back. He said it sounded like my entire time in the Coast Guard had been a "worst case scenario."
What he didn't seem to understand is that these kinds of experiences are common in his organization. They happen every day.
People who speak out are told to "suck it up" or that they don't belong in the military if they can't handle the way they are treated. Others who have tried to report sexual assault are often recommended for medical discharge for "personality disorders" or "failure to adapt" as in, "failure to adapt to being raped and then watching your rapist go unpunished, get promoted and go on with his career."
Until the Pentagon stops pretending that their current sexual assault training is working and puts an end to commanders getting to decided arbitrarily if someone is guilty of rape or not, nothing will improve for the thousands of individuals who have been the victims sexual assault and the thousands more who could be.
Jackie Speier Talks About Rape in the Military
The awesome woman featured in the video below is Representative Jackie Speier from California's 12th District.
She made a pledge to read a statement each week from a person who has been sexually assaulted in the military and says she will continue to do so until the military takes serious measures to prosecute rapists within their ranks.
Rep. Speier has also written legislation that would require the military to let outside sources handle the prosecution of rape and take the power away from individual commanders who have become infamous for dismissing rape charges and punishing rape victims instead.
My own experience with rape within the Coast Guard led me to join a lawsuit against the Pentagon and to participate in a recent conference call with Rep. Speier in which I was able to thank her personally for the work she is doing in Washington.
I intend to post the full account of what happened to me and how it was handled by the Coast Guard on this blog and another blog for military sexual assault survivors called "My Duty to Speak."
Monday, March 05, 2012
No Way to Win an Argument
Ah, so, yes. After a few months of not writing, the itch to be visibly sarcastic has grown too strong to resist.
Today's topic: Jackass Argument Maneuvers
Why? Because I'm in grad school now and assumed that the quality of discourse would be much improved from what I had to deal with while I was in the military.
Here's what happened: We were having a discussion about colonialism and the marks it left on society and someone made the mistake of suggesting that certain nations couldn't be blamed for their past actions because it was "the times."
There are many ways in which people look to excuse themselves or those who came before them from blame. One of those happens to be suggesting that the person or persons taking part in some awful event were just "A Product of the Times."
According to this theory, at certain times in human history, large chunks of humanity did things to groups that they deemed "the other" because no one realized it was wrong.
Take owning another human being for example. It was "the times." If you were born at a time when this action was committed and you also committed it, congratulations!-it's not your fault- it's just that no one had been awakened to the fact that treating a fellow human being like property was despicable.
Remember when women weren't allowed to vote because they were too "feeble minded?" It was simply because a bunch of grown men thought they were doing what was best for grown women. Female voting was a radical, un-tested social experiment. No one really knew if the world would explode or not if we let this crazy thing called "women's suffrage" happen.
Anyway, I told the class that I hated this sort of dismissal of wrongs committed in the past because it presupposes that no one "knew any better" and therefore they are exempt from blame.
I added that in the South where I was raised people also used "the times" to make excuses for racism. As in, "he can't help that he hates black people, he's a 'Product of the Times.'"
The responses to my posit were a little upsetting.
One girl said, "It's so easy to critique the past."
I told her that I was fully prepared to critique the present, too.
Another girl who is African American made an allusion to someone in her family who doesn't approve of interracial relationships and concluded by saying "Sometimes you just have to shut up and take it."
I responded by saying that was bullshit and that you did not "just have to take it."
I too was brought up to respect my elders but I put some caveats on that respect. I'm not going to keep quiet while someone in my family says something hateful and racist just to "keep the peace." I don't think that arguing with them will change their mind but I'm not going to let them ruin my life or insult my significant other because they are old and/or family and I was taught that they have to be blindly obeyed/listened to/supported. If I let them act that way without standing up for what I believe then I am letting them damage me (and possibly others) in all sorts of ways.
Anyway, next came some commentary from this other guy who said we were all just talking about how we would like the world to be but it wasn't going to change a thing. He also said he felt like we were all "looking at history through the 21st Century Lens too much."
See, if we just looked at things through the lens of an 1860s gentleman farmer in Georgia we would see that the North really was oppressing the South's rights to own an all-black, non-volunteer workforce. Dammit! The North should be paying the South reparations for cutting into their labor pool like that and hurting the economic model of "the times."
I guess I failed to see his point.
Was he saying we shouldn't make normative judgments on others? If so, someone needs to tell the U.N. not to write anymore beautifully-worded human rights treatises.
Was he trying to say that wishing something would change for the better won't actually make it change? This is why you have to look at a problem and chose a course of action, without action most problems won't just "up and solve themselves."
Anyway. Those are the insightful comments of my classmates.
To sum up:
Don't just be all judge-y about the past!
Old people have a right to be hateful!
Our wanting to make the world a better place is like, just not enough man, you know? People are gettin' all normative and shit...Damn I sounded cool saying that!
Today's topic: Jackass Argument Maneuvers
Why? Because I'm in grad school now and assumed that the quality of discourse would be much improved from what I had to deal with while I was in the military.
Here's what happened: We were having a discussion about colonialism and the marks it left on society and someone made the mistake of suggesting that certain nations couldn't be blamed for their past actions because it was "the times."
There are many ways in which people look to excuse themselves or those who came before them from blame. One of those happens to be suggesting that the person or persons taking part in some awful event were just "A Product of the Times."
According to this theory, at certain times in human history, large chunks of humanity did things to groups that they deemed "the other" because no one realized it was wrong.
Take owning another human being for example. It was "the times." If you were born at a time when this action was committed and you also committed it, congratulations!-it's not your fault- it's just that no one had been awakened to the fact that treating a fellow human being like property was despicable.
Remember when women weren't allowed to vote because they were too "feeble minded?" It was simply because a bunch of grown men thought they were doing what was best for grown women. Female voting was a radical, un-tested social experiment. No one really knew if the world would explode or not if we let this crazy thing called "women's suffrage" happen.
Anyway, I told the class that I hated this sort of dismissal of wrongs committed in the past because it presupposes that no one "knew any better" and therefore they are exempt from blame.
I added that in the South where I was raised people also used "the times" to make excuses for racism. As in, "he can't help that he hates black people, he's a 'Product of the Times.'"
The responses to my posit were a little upsetting.
One girl said, "It's so easy to critique the past."
I told her that I was fully prepared to critique the present, too.
Another girl who is African American made an allusion to someone in her family who doesn't approve of interracial relationships and concluded by saying "Sometimes you just have to shut up and take it."
I responded by saying that was bullshit and that you did not "just have to take it."
I too was brought up to respect my elders but I put some caveats on that respect. I'm not going to keep quiet while someone in my family says something hateful and racist just to "keep the peace." I don't think that arguing with them will change their mind but I'm not going to let them ruin my life or insult my significant other because they are old and/or family and I was taught that they have to be blindly obeyed/listened to/supported. If I let them act that way without standing up for what I believe then I am letting them damage me (and possibly others) in all sorts of ways.
Anyway, next came some commentary from this other guy who said we were all just talking about how we would like the world to be but it wasn't going to change a thing. He also said he felt like we were all "looking at history through the 21st Century Lens too much."
See, if we just looked at things through the lens of an 1860s gentleman farmer in Georgia we would see that the North really was oppressing the South's rights to own an all-black, non-volunteer workforce. Dammit! The North should be paying the South reparations for cutting into their labor pool like that and hurting the economic model of "the times."
I guess I failed to see his point.
Was he saying we shouldn't make normative judgments on others? If so, someone needs to tell the U.N. not to write anymore beautifully-worded human rights treatises.
Was he trying to say that wishing something would change for the better won't actually make it change? This is why you have to look at a problem and chose a course of action, without action most problems won't just "up and solve themselves."
Anyway. Those are the insightful comments of my classmates.
To sum up:
Don't just be all judge-y about the past!
Old people have a right to be hateful!
Our wanting to make the world a better place is like, just not enough man, you know? People are gettin' all normative and shit...Damn I sounded cool saying that!
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Old Woman Phillips and the Ground Squirrels
This is a ground squirrel. Nom, nom, nom!
I have decided that any old woman can be a "cat lady" so I have chosen the ground squirrel as my animal companion. This is not to be confused with my "spirit animal" which is obviously the banana slug.
The ground squirrel has a complex social hierarchy but for the most part they are friendly and peaceful with me and one another.
Also, look at this guy! So cute!
There is definitely a "squee" factor in being a squirrel lady.
I have decided that any old woman can be a "cat lady" so I have chosen the ground squirrel as my animal companion. This is not to be confused with my "spirit animal" which is obviously the banana slug.
The ground squirrel has a complex social hierarchy but for the most part they are friendly and peaceful with me and one another.
Also, look at this guy! So cute!
There is definitely a "squee" factor in being a squirrel lady.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
The Earth Rocks Me To Sleep
In the wee hours of Saturday morning, I felt my bed shaking gently. I woke up enough to reckon that it was an earthquake.
Sure enough, this morning I read that there was a 4.6 quake near Hollister and that other residents of Monterey had reported feeling it.
At my house, the shaking was mild, like a soothing rocking motion. It seemed to last less than one minute.
No major damages or injuries have been reported.
As usual I checked in with the U.S.G.S. website to get all the nerdy up-to-date info.
Upon closer inspection of my own flat, I found the following devastation:
Sure enough, this morning I read that there was a 4.6 quake near Hollister and that other residents of Monterey had reported feeling it.
At my house, the shaking was mild, like a soothing rocking motion. It seemed to last less than one minute.
No major damages or injuries have been reported.
As usual I checked in with the U.S.G.S. website to get all the nerdy up-to-date info.
Upon closer inspection of my own flat, I found the following devastation:
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
The New International
Both myself and Kelly Jr. a.k.a. "A" are attending international schools.
While I'm thrilled to be a part of my new global flavored educational community, A is still adjusting to the uniform requirements of hers.
This week I have been attending seminars, meetings and social events with my fellow International Policy Studies classmates.
We have students from Russia, Georgia, Ethiopia, Kurdistan, Norway, Denmark, Mexico, Serbia, China, Japan and all over the U.S.
At a new student social event on Monday I met a large group of Danes and Norwegians and learned of their special affection for brightly colored New Balance tennis shoes.
The girls from Denmark were super tall. When one of them was asking me a question she leaned forward to better hear my voice and I felt as if a Willow tree had bent its graceful trunk toward me because I was a short little hobbit girl.
Waaaaaaah!! Why can't I be 6'2"!?
I have decided to start a club called the "Future Diplomats Club." I noticed that many of my fellow students are interested in careers with the State Department so I thought a study group for the Foreign Service Officer exam might be useful.
I spent time today looking at Fulbright scholarships in Turkey and will be attending an information seminar next week.
I met some of my professors from Conflict Resolution this morning and discovered that many of them are passionate about Latin American affairs and local immigration issues.
It should be an interesting academic year.
I have definitely landed in the right place.
While I'm thrilled to be a part of my new global flavored educational community, A is still adjusting to the uniform requirements of hers.
This week I have been attending seminars, meetings and social events with my fellow International Policy Studies classmates.
We have students from Russia, Georgia, Ethiopia, Kurdistan, Norway, Denmark, Mexico, Serbia, China, Japan and all over the U.S.
At a new student social event on Monday I met a large group of Danes and Norwegians and learned of their special affection for brightly colored New Balance tennis shoes.
The girls from Denmark were super tall. When one of them was asking me a question she leaned forward to better hear my voice and I felt as if a Willow tree had bent its graceful trunk toward me because I was a short little hobbit girl.
Waaaaaaah!! Why can't I be 6'2"!?
I have decided to start a club called the "Future Diplomats Club." I noticed that many of my fellow students are interested in careers with the State Department so I thought a study group for the Foreign Service Officer exam might be useful.
I spent time today looking at Fulbright scholarships in Turkey and will be attending an information seminar next week.
I met some of my professors from Conflict Resolution this morning and discovered that many of them are passionate about Latin American affairs and local immigration issues.
It should be an interesting academic year.
I have definitely landed in the right place.
Meanwhile, In The Rich Man's World.....
Check out this great MSN video: Best of Show - 2011 Pebble Beach Concours
Just in case you wanted to know how much money changed hands this week at the costs- more-than-you'll-make-in-your-lifetime car auction here in the Monterey Penninsula:
$66 Million.
I'm enjoying a delicious, chicken flavored Top Ramen as I write this.
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