"What are you hiding for, Maron?"

 Marc Maron considers himself to be a "mid-level celebrity."  This seems to be an honest, accurate description of his status.  Podcast listeners are very aware of him, comedy fans are often aware of him, and movie-goers are beginning to appreciate his acting abilities. True Maron fans are aware of all of this, as well as his guitar skills and his ownership of cats.  They are also aware of other things he once made sure were publicly known.

Throughout his decades of performing, there are things about him that have been well publicized, as he has been vocal about his personal likes and dislikes, his foibles and neurosis.  Because of his mid-level status, not everyone has been aware of these things, but his fans are kept up to date, by Maron's own words, by what he chooses to let others know.  Maron has recently complained about certain fans thinking they know him, which I find ironic, as he has been publicly interacting with and "dating" fans for decades.  He is the one creating these very parasocial interactions he now wants to complain about.  He has been grooming "sugar pics" from young fans since his Jessica days, although he always blames the girls for sending those pics he has subtly been making clear he wants, which is a classic part of the grooming process.  He has been hooking up with very young girls with specific mental health issues for over 30 years, ever since he first began grooming those very girls from the stage and from visits to late night TV.  He used to be quite proud about his re-exploitation of sexually abused girls with BPD, happy to confirm this once well-known and oft referred to fact about his proclivities. After #me,too, he made it clear in the Guardian interview that he still saw his behavior toward teen girls as perfectly fine.  Since then, he has done an obvious about face.  Not in his predatory behavior, simply in his crowing about it.  When I sent the "Well, hell" email late last summer, he and/or his handlers, started removing proof of his sexual behavior toward damaged young girls from YouTube and other online sources.  It is apparent that he is going to keep fucking young and teen girls with serious issues, but he is now trying to keep his newest fans in the dark, which is especially insidious and disingenuous when one considers the number of children who are being added to his fan base.  What happened to his pride in how many young girls he could groom and fuck?  Where is his trademark honesty and matter-of-factness when it comes to his constant drawing in and sexually interacting with damaged girls as soon as they hit 18?  He has obviously never seen this behavior as something he should change, but he sure has decided to try and keep this behavior hidden from parents of his newest fan base.  Not to mention, from people like Brooke Shields, who he interviewed as if he understood the way sick old predators in this patriarchy have sexualized children born female, presenting himself as an ally, while he was actively ghosting a broken young girl with a gun that he had just finished sexually exploiting. 

Where's that trademark honesty, Maron?  Why are you now hiding what you used to brag about, making sure your new fans never hear the truth about you now?  You have, twice, on podcasts heard by none of your new fans, and hardly anyone else, hastily glossed over the fact that you still sexually interact with girls who are "legal," in whatever country you may be standing in, but you do not say these things in your intros, or make sure parents are aware of you seeing their young daughters as fuckable.  What's up with that, Maron?  Do you perhaps know what you are doing is predatory?

Yeah, you know.  You damn well know.  Parents need to fucking know.  And those making movies for kids need to see you as the predator you are, and stop marketing you as safe and harmless to children.

If you don't see grooming and fucking teen and very young sexually abused girls with serious mental health issues as wrong, you need to speak up and say it, on your podcast.  Your newest fan base, and the parents/guardians of the underage members among those new fans, have a goddam right to know.

Tagging Mr. Maron

 A year ago right now, I was actively re-engaging with online life, experiencing new music for the first time in quite awhile, watching new movies and reading new books, catching up on shows by comedians that I had missed.  I was about to re-experience a moment of real laughter, for the first time in years.  I was blissfully unaware of the gaping rabbit hole waiting for me up around the bend.  

Someone asked me, in an email this weekend,  what is it I would actually like to accomplish, if I could pick one thing my current blog posts might cause to happen.  Something that was within the realm of possibility.  I decided, if I could narrow it down to one rationally obtainable goal, I would hope Mr. Maron might publicly say, from the same stage he has used to disparage and sexualize and groom girls with mental health issues caused by child sexual abuse, that because he chooses to continue having sex with girls as soon as they are legal, he will no longer market himself to children.  This would be an honest admission to his fan base, so parents could respond accordingly,  and damaged girls might have a chance to understand that they are not "special" to this man, that he does this a lot and they are simply one of many he is choosing to briefly use.  His fans, and future exploited girls would be better informed about his real behavior, and he would no longer be actively and publicly marketed to children as "safe."  That was my answer to the emailer's question.  Apparently,  it was seen as a further attempt by me to employ sarcasm, because the email reply I got was simply, "🤣."  My inability to view life in any "normal" manner is in no danger of changing, I guess.  I honestly believed this was not an unreasonable ask.  I still see this as something that could happen, if Maron would decide to be honest about his own behavior that he views as acceptable.  Ah well, maybe the emailer was laughing because he knows a man like Maron would never do anything this honest.  Maybe it wasn't laughter at my stupidity.  Doesn't matter, either way.  It was the most honest response I could come up with.  

I was clueless a year ago right now.  It was a different time.

When?

 So, when does progressive, compassionate Mr. Maron apologize to every child being sexually assaulted this second, for ever using that horribly dehumanizing and diminishing term, "Daddy issues?"  When does he apologize to everyone with BPD for targeting and dehumanizing and sexualizing those with this mental illness?  When does he apologize to parents for buddying up to children he has no problem grooming and then fucking them the minute they turn legal?

When does open season on sexually abused children finally end?

What kind of man are you, really, Marc Maron?  Man enough to tell every parent that yes, you will fuck their daughter as soon as she hits 18, if she has been molested or has a mental health issue?  When do you tell them if their little girl responds to your online grooming by sending you underage pics, you will not turn those pics in to law enforcement? When do you man up and admit how many broken sexually abused BPD sufferers you have left suicidal?

How long do you ignore this damaged person speaking so hard from her broken heart, speaking for a group of horribly damaged humans you have dehumanized and re-exploited for decades?

When?...

In a Flash

My oldest son has been sending me pictures from his visit to Kauai, the island where his father and I lived back when we were nineteen.  I am enjoying how so many of the places I remember from 38 years ago have not changed.  The Maniniholo Dry Cave, at Haena, where we slept after our tents and belongings were stolen, looks exactly the same now as it did in '85.  The hiking ridge that looks down on Kalalau Valley along the NaPali has not changed, either. Two photos in particular that my son sent, transported me straight back in time.  I could feel the soft muffled stillness of the dry cave, waking up long ago to sunlight scattering inward around the edges of that cave entrance. As I saw the image of that place now, the scents and sounds of that cave swept over me.  Another photo from the ridge trail overlooking the curving valleys dropping away toward the Pacific, mist hovering atop green ferns and tangled vines draping across red dirt and rock, all took me straight back to a moment sitting outside a tent in Kalalau, eating guava, misted salt scents seasoning the sweet fruit as the whole scene fed my bloodstream and soul those decades ago.  Those two photos were all I needed to travel back in time, and I was there again.  No scientific machine necessary for this trip.  Part of my mind exists there still, in that cave and valley, and a photo lets me re-experience those moments.  At times like this, I am grateful for the way my memory works.  

There are other times when I am not grateful for my memory.  Back in the '90's, when I spoke to law enforcement in the city where I was used by my stepmother in the making of child porn, I was shocked to have the detective I spoke with tell me how a significant number of children who are interviewed after they are identified in child porn material, will have no memory of those moments of horrendous sexual exploitation.  I would give almost anything to not remember the worst memories from my childhood.  Human minds sometimes successfully block those kinds of awful memories. 

Since I have been an adult, I have had startling moments of pain that have hurt in my chest, reactions I have heard defined as "triggering," the PTSD-type responses that remove me from the moment, and place me straight back into the hell of my childhood.  I have written about some of these moments where something in real time, makes me re-experience pain from the past.  Here is one example of such a moment, copied from an archived blog post:

"Sometimes, when I am driving cats to be fixed at a clinic, there will be a kitten who makes me catch my breath, and feel a sudden, deep ache. It will be a slender black kitten, about 5 months old, with big golden eyes, who looks a lot like my kitten Barney looked. Seeing such a kitten always makes me ache a bit inside, but I have learned to ignore that pain, work right through it, and focus on the big picture, which is getting a group of cats fixed, to lessen the number of stray and feral cats who suffer daily in this world. 

On one particular cat trip this past couple of years, there was one of these slender black kittens that I picked up to take with a group of cats to get fixed. That kitten caught my eye right away. Later in the day, the owner of that cat called my cell phone, to see how their kitten was recovering after surgery. I told her the kitten was doing fine. She asked me if I could tell her daughter that the kitten was fine, because her daughter was very worried about her cat. I said yes, and a tiny voice came on the phone. My brain went through a great deal of pain, as I listened to the voice of a very young child ask me if her cat was okay. Her voice was so serious and worried. I told her that her kitten was doing very well, and would be home soon. Then I thanked her for letting us fix her cat, because this was the best way to help all of the cats have better lives. When that tiny little voice said, "You're welcome," I was overwhelmed with emotion. I put the phone into my pocket, and immediately went into the clinic bathroom to be alone. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the wall. I wanted so badly to never have been forced to kill my kitten Barney, when I was little, when my voice must have sounded like the little girl I had just talked to on the phone."

_____________________

That is an example of how I experience flashbacks.  It is not fun.  There are other moments, where I am forced to re-feel pain from my past.  Like seeing that predator sda principal responding to one of my friend's posts on social media, which immediately makes me relive how it felt to be groomed, conned, lied to, sexually re-exploited, and then blamed for all of it, by a man who is seen as decent to this day by most of the people who know him.  It hurts so much, to know what he really did, how he is a sick-ass predator who purposely damages damaged little girls with "daddy issues," and to have to see how he is viewed as decent by most people who know him.  I have to know the truth, while I also have to know how many others believe his facade.  This is emotionally some of the most painful truths I carry.  I am thankful that asshole is enough degrees in separation from me, that such painful moments are not common.

On July 7, the first episode of a show will be premiered on Prime, and thousands of people will watch it.  They will respond by saying positive things about the actors featured in that episode.  Those actors will be publicly viewed, and spoken of, all over social media.  The trailer for this first episode is already out there.  I have seen it myself a number of times, and I am actively trying to avoid seeing anything about that program.  Every time I see it, my heart hurts for the person that show is going to re-damage.  A crime was committed, and there is a girl who will have to re-experience the pain of that crime, every time she sees the trailer for that show.  The face of her perpetrator will forever hurt that girl, because she has to know what he really did, how he purposely chose to commit a sexual crime against her, how he is a predator who harmed her illegally, yet everyone else will be viewing that same man as a good person, treating him well, praising him.  Marketing him to children...

I hope she knows that she isn't completely alone as she is re-traumatized.  I know what he did.  I know how it will continue to harm her, and how often the trauma will be replayed in her mind, because that crime is part of public entertainment, and her mind won't have a chance to forget.  I know what he chose to do, how he does not care about, or even acknowledge, the pain he caused her.  How that flash of his face onscreen will reharm her soul, over and over. 

Age and gender identity

Someone wrote that I must have an issue with "old men getting to fuck young p****."  Happy to clear this up, for anyone reading my posts here.

I have seen relationships between people of all gender identities that appeared to be healthy, where age differences seemed to be a non-factor.  When adults are interacting in an honest and non-predatory manner, with others they respect and care about, age and gender identity don't seem to matter all that much at all.  When adults interact honestly, and no predator/prey dynamic is involved, I don't give a shit what any of them are doing.  It's none of my damn business.

I have lived a life deeply affected by childhood sexual exploitation, and the continuous re-exploitation that occurred every time I tried to get help from those very folks society tells survivors to go to for help.  I have been approached by countless old-ass predators who spot people like me and move in for the kill.   I have had to hear the horrendous childhood I went thru be diminished and invalidated over and over, by the fucked up phrase, "daddy issues."  I have had to experience the nightmare of realizing my childhood was an actual aphrodisiac for older male predators around me.  I have been spotted, targeted, groomed, and misused, directly because of the damage childhood sexual abuse did to me.  And I have had to witness other sexualized children go thru these exact same experiences. In this patriarchy, old men, men seen as respected members of society, are free to joke about, lie to, target, groom, and re-exploit sexually abused children.  So, yeah, I got issues with those old-ass predators, who have honed their sexually exploitive behaviors over the course of decades, at the expense of mentally, emotionally, and physically abused and damaged children with BPD.  Children, who end up carrying all the blame.  

Predators of any gender identity piss me off.  Sexually exploited children from every gender identity break my heart.  My personal experiences give me the knowledge to write about my exploitation and re-exploitation from my specific viewpoint.  This means my writing will be more focused on cis female children being S/A'd and then re-exploited by mostly old male predators.  That is what I have mostly experienced.  But I despise all sexual predators, and my heart hurts for every sexual abuse survivor who has no way to protect themselves from those asshole predators.  

A Kiss, and Kauai

My story about my first kiss was written for a college writing course in 2008, and published in The Los Angeles Review the following spring.  Since the publication of this story, and my subsequent "A Thousand Words," I have been approached by others, in real life and online, who said I must've been lying about my childhood abuse, because I wrote that my first kiss didn't happen until I was eleven.  I guess this is a good thing, to have this be an assumption some people make, because it means they aren't aware of what activities tend to occur in the kind of child porn my stepmother was involved in creating.   While there may be some specific subgroups in pedophilia who insanely think they feel some sort of sick definition of "love" for age specific children, which may include kissing of mouths, I never once experienced any kind of mouth-to mouth type kissing during any of the abuse I went thru as a child.  This meant my experience, during that summer of '77, was the only "first" in my whole childhood where I was involved in choosing to participate.  That moment is probably the closest I ever came to experiencing feelings that should be a part of every child's development, my one and only "first time" that did not involve adult exploitation of my child body. 

I have had people say I should try to find Curtis, now, and see what might come from that.  Please dear lord, do not let such a thing ever happen.  At 11, I was still somehow capable of trusting someone else.  Thanks to the sda principal,  and every other "helping" person who has re-exploited me since, not to mention all of the cheating spouses I have witnessed or been involved with, I am not capable of feeling any trust at all.  None.  Me saying this is not some challenge-type statement meant to draw in somebody to try and prove me wrong.  If, by some fucking miracle, a truly trustworthy human drifted into my life, my inability to trust would destroy such a person. Do not feel any kind of pity or sadness for me.  It's perfectly okay.  I have no desire to ever want the kind of relationship that requires such trust.  I am quite content with one-time hookups.  "Hit it and quit it" is my personal motto, and please, for the love of god, do not imagine me saying that as some sort of "cry for help."  I am quite serious.  I am 57, and I finally keep myself as safe as I can be, without practicing celibacy.  This decision, to live my life this way, is the only time since my birth, where I am in control of my decisions regarding sex.  I am finally making informed choices.  I guess this is what the beginning of me developing self-agency looks like.

So, my first kiss was where I usually landed, when anyone asked me if I had ever experienced real romantic "love" (whatever the fuck that means).  Of course, there is nothing about 11 yr-old children kissing that comes close to whatever it is two committed adults in a decent relationship are feeling.  But I do think Curtis and I shared some of the infinitesimal seeds of the kinds of stuff that must later be happening for real love to begin to exist.  We worked well together to figure out problem solving.  We weren't mean to each other.  We didn't argue or yell at each other.  The only time I ever heard Curtis raise his voice at all was when he defended me by telling a kid to shut up as we tried to save those puppies in my story.  The brief time we shared together was good.  Our first kiss was mutual, and awkward, and sweet.  And absolutely non-predatory.  Yeah, some decent seeds were there, that summer.  

In early 1985, I, my boyfriend, and a friend of his set out for Hawaii.  To live.  We were all nineteen.  I was escaping my father and my church.  My boyfriend, Stan, was escaping his own family dysfunction and pain.  Brett, who was Stan's best friend and became a good friend of mine, as well, was trying to create a future for himself, as he was the only member of our trio with any forward thinking abilities at that age.  We ended up settling on the North Shore of Kauai, and there, each of us experienced some amazing and adventurous moments, as well as some deeply learned lessons that would serve us all for years to come, and remain strong memories for us ever since.  

When Stan and I returned to the mainland, we had my oldest son, and went our separate ways.

Yesterday, my oldest son landed on Kauai, for his first visit to a place he has heard me tell stories about since he was little.  The Garden Island is not that much different than it was 38 years ago, unlike Waikiki, on Oahu, which is unrecognizable to me now.  My firstborn is on soil where his father and I shared a beautiful, slower-paced, intense, amazing time together.  Before my son left on this trip, I was telling him some of the stories about his father and myself that I hadn't ever spoken of before.  The time his father spread his arms toward the plumeria blossoms and said, "You can't say I never got you flowers.  I gave you a whole damn island of 'em," and I shot back, "It was my car got sold to buy our fuckin tickets here."  We laughed a lot on Kauai.  We fought, too.  Once, Stan was so frustrated by me, he went outside our shack and yanked up a young banana tree, tossing it aside, where it promptly re-rooted.  The next time we argued, Stan tore that plant up again, and threw it in another direction.   It became a running joke.  I'm sure that banana tree is big, now, and strong as shit.  Kinda like our son.  I was never gonna be capable of any long-term commitment, but Stan was the only relationship I ever had that was not based in predatory behavior by some older man similar to my father.  My time with my oldest son's dad was the only such relationship I experienced not marred by abusive predatory control and manipulation. 

I have no idea what intimate "love" feels like.  But Curtis and Stan are the two people whose memories for me are not filled with lies, gaslighting, fear, exploitation, and abuse.  My father's abuse, compounded by my stepmother's added sexual exploitation, set me up for some difficulties.  But the adventist principal could have set me on a much different path.  Kids who live relatively acceptable lives after childhoods like mine, always have that one person who steps in and stops the re-exploitation cycle.  This does not happen often. In fact, it's the exception.   Men like Maron keep re-exploiting sexually exploited children, and they never find their way out of that awful cycle.  In order for this re-exploitation to stop happening, it is going to take knowledgeable adults calling out predatory behavior, and protecting sexually exploited children.  And that takes me right back to the whole "magical thinking" bullshit I wrote about in an earlier post.  I would like to believe sexually abused children might someday be protected from re-exploitation.  But believing in it now, after 57 years of living, would mean I was choosing to be insane.

Let's define the word "Choice"

 An addendum to the last 2 posts:

When a person makes a choice, the ability to choose something with any safety or wisdom, depends on how informed they are.  When deciding which insulation to use for a home remodeling project, my safety and health depends on what information I am given.  If I see a product advertised as safe, if I see a list of the substances used to create a product and every substance listed is considered safe, I am making as informed a choice as I am capable of making.  If the information I received from ads and product labels is false, I am not able to make an informed choice at all.  If I purchase an insulating product I have been led to believe is safe, and it contains a known carcinogen that causes me or my family to develop cancer, the blame lies with the product creator, and the ad company that did not confirm the safety of the product that was marketed.  We are all responsible for every informed choice we make.  But making a choice based on misinformation is not a true choice.  Part of maturity is the ability to learn how to spot snake oil salespeople.  Such maturity does not arrive when we turn eighteen.   It takes time to develop.  Years.  When lives are not endangered, such uninformed choices can be chalked up to experience, and no one's existence was left hanging in the balance.  

Teaching children to make healthier food choices starts with the adults raising such children.  Children's future eating habits are first reliant on those introducing such children to food, and as that child grows, advertisers and school lunch menus become part of the equation.  Our country has suffered the health crises created by processed foods and outrageous food portions being pushed by ad campaigns, and parents far too busy to make sure their convenient meal decisions are not harming the future health of their children.  Other factors, like affordability, access to healthier choices, and adverse side effects by commonly used medications, also add to this mix.  Life expectancy has decreased recently because of the misinformation and other factors that contributed to this rise in health issues across the US these past few decades.

The issue of child sexual abuse had seemingly been ignored, in the overall recorded history of humans, at least until Freud entered the picture.  Freud himself seemed to add to the problem in a number of ways, according to the information currently available.  There were quite a few members of my paternal family for the past few generations who exhibited signs of having experienced childhood sexual exploitation, a number of whom chose to abuse the newest members born into the family.  My childhood was a direct result of the hidden epidemic of child sexual abuse.  By the time I was born, sexual abuse was starting to become a topic seen as important.  Shows like "Something About Amelia," after-school specials meant to provide children with information that was supposed to be helpful, appeared on TV.  Dear Abby responded to a child's letter in the '70's, by telling that child to "talk to a trusted adult" about the abuse they were going thru.  It was those very words that went thru my mind, as the sda principal had me sit next to him when I was thirteen.  I thought I was making the right choice by trusting a person my church held up as "safe."  I had nothing else to go on. That was the only information I had.  I was not making any kind of choice at all.  I was being groomed by a lying predator, who knew exactly what to say to a damaged child like me.  And society encouraged my "choice."  And then, later, blamed me for making that man "sin."  As more time passed, in trying to overcome the original sexual exploitation, as well as the addition of my principal's re-exploitation, I was once again told to go to somebody paid to help people like me, who once again said new things that made me finally decide to trust, and once more re-exploited me.  At this point, I just assumed I would eventually be re-exploited by someone who would actually care about me, and that was why society kept telling me to try yet again.  This cycle created all kinds of issues for me, and eventually for my children.   The cycle only got worse.  After this last round, I finally decided continuing this fucked up cycle was bullshit.  I will no longer speak to any human educated and paid to help people like me.  It is the only way to keep myself safe.  I am done choosing to believe anything I have been told by society.   I am never safe, because no one has ever once been held responsible for re-exploiting me.  Since I was 13, I have been held responsible for everything others have been choosing to do to me and to other survivors of child sexual abuse.  That is what society does to survivors of child sexual abuse.  Believing anything else would, to me, be the definition of insanity. 

My choice now is to publicly call out the behavior of predators that causes the awful cycle of re-exploitation sexual abuse survivors overwhelmingly face.  An abused child has no way of knowing the other abuse victims being re-exploited by the lying predator this abuse victim is choosing to trust.  These predators tell abuse victims cruel lies meant to draw such victims in.  Private, deeply personal lies.  These predators make the abuse victims think they are finally cared about.  These predators are held up as safe.  How the hell is a sexualized child supposed to know that society is purposely letting a predator be viewed by them as safe?  They are decades away from the awful realization that adults were always aware these old predators were fucking broken children as soon as they hit 18, and the adults simply grinned and said, "Hey, that sexualized teen girl is choosing to be sexually exploited by that predator.   It's her own fault for not knowing the truth about a man we market to kids as safe, a man who has been doing this for decades longer than this girl has been alive.  It's her own fault when she wants to kill herself.  She should have known not to trust a man held up as trustworthy. "

If our society is going to continue allowing sexually abused children to be re-exploited by old-ass predators, it is time for every single child at the hospital who has just had a rape kit done, every child sitting in a squad car or the office of a CPS worker who has just been removed from a sexually abusive situation,  every child anywhere who is found to have been sexually abused, to be sat down in a chair and told firmly that they will now be sexually harmed by every adult who comes near them.  This is the only thing that might protect such children.  Sound extreme?  Well, sitting back grinning as men like Maron groom teen girls suffering from sexual abuse and BPD seems pretty fuckin extreme to me.

Sexual abuse victims are incapable of making any informed choice, when it comes to them being handed off to those society allows to prey on sexual abuse victims.  This cycle sets victims up to fail, and sets predators up to get off. 

There's no informed choice for broken sexual abuse victims at all.

America's Burqa, pt 1

Why do 59 yr-old men like Marc Maron get to publicly target young females with a specific mental illness, an illness he equates publicly with "good sex?"  A specific mental illness is viewed as an acceptable reason to purposely try and fuck a girl.  Worse still, damaged girls whose fathers/teachers/coaches/neighbors/step-parents/guardians/clergy, etc, have molested, assaulted and/or raped them, are groomed and laughed at by those using that disgusting slur "daddy issues."  Why do these old predators openly have access to young girls who exhibit self-harming and suicidal behavior, girls suffering because of the well-known damage created by some of the worst known childhood abuses imaginable?  Girls with the symptoms of one of the most diparaged of mental illnesses in the current DSM?  Why is this re-exploitation of damaged children allowed to happen over and over, especially at a time when so many "othered" people are finally being seen as worthy of protection?  Instead of being horrified that a child's body and mind has been horribly harmed by childhood sexual exploitation, men like Maron are grinning about "daddy issues," laughing about the way BPD manifests in self-distructive and painful symptoms, salivating for their chance to fuck such at-risk children, the minute these mentally, emotionally,  and physically harmed children hit 18, or 17, or 16, depending on the law alone, because god forbid that such men be forced to experience sexual exploitation while incarcerated.  Children, little kids who have been destroyed by the very type of abuse that robs that child of any ability to develop self-agency or self-preserving knowledge, like how sick and depraved and uncaring men like Maron really are, are left completely unprotected, thrown into the waiting laps of predators.  Society does nothing to stop these men. Instead, Marc Maron is now marketed to children.  People are purposely introducing this well-known sexual predator to children.  Every single little girl being raped this second is in danger of being re-exploited by Marc Maron in just a couple of years.  Think about that. Think of what such a child is now in for, and will be blamed for, because somebody is destroying that child's mind and body right this second.  Some little child is, as you read these words, going through hell.  But her hell is way bigger than the pain she is experiencing this second.  Her hell includes everything Marc Maron and other old predators will continue doing to her from now on, over and over.  These old predators are pulling years-long trains on broken children.  And nobody stops this.  Instead, they blame the broken children.  They say it's the children's choice.  

There is no choice for a sexually exploited child who keeps being re-exploited by men like Maron.  None.  That is why men like Maron get off on this.  They know an unsexualized, relatively normal girl has no interest in gross old men with herpetic unprotected genitalia who draw in 4 or 5 mentally damaged girls at a time.  The Obama daughters are examples of girls who wouldn't look twice at an old predator like Maron. No girl raised in any sort of decent,  relatively normal manner would have anything to do with a man now old enough to be their grandfather, who behaves like Maron.  Men like Maron rely on molested children for gratification, actually get off because there are molested children about to turn "legal."  If society would prosecute and incarcerate more child molesters, and properly help and protect those children who have been molested, then Marc Maron's predatory behavior would be severely curtailed.   He, and predators just like him, are allowed to dehumanize and joke about sexually molested children, are allowed to be marketed as "safe" to such sexualized and damaged children.  All of this is done while ascribing agency to such damaged children the minute that child is 16, or 17, or 18, all while excusing the obvious ongoing predatory behavior that leaves those molested children suicidal, even as the old predator moves on to his next victims.  This is fucking unconscionable.  Yet this is exactly what is happening to molested children, children who are being diagnosed younger and younger with BPD.  A label that attracts predators like Maron, is being placed on the backs of children.

In this country, cis female babies are covered by a kind of reverse "burqa," an absence of protection, a visible sexualization, that is as soul stealing as the actual burqa is for those girls forced to be covered that way in other countries. (I will expand on what I mean by America's reverse burqa in my next post)  These two opposing "coverings" girls are forced to wear are two sides of the same goddam coin: patriarchy.   The result is the same.  Old men, predatory men, are free to destroy very young cis females.  The suicidal ideation, the self-harm, the destruction of young cis female souls, is all the same, burqa, or reverse burqa.  None of this is egalitarian.  This is all patriarchy.  And it destroys lives. 

America's Burqa, pt 2

I recently wrote a post here called "A Question." I am re-posting it now:

"SUNDAY, MAY 14, 2023

A Question

I was standing in a Walmart, talking to a friend recently. We were next to the "Baby girl," "Toddler girl," clothing department. Something spoken of in the new documentary, "Pretty Baby," hit me. I turned to my friend, pointed at a shelf full of clothing that once would have only been sold in places like Victoria's Secret, for all us adults to enjoy, and asked, "Why isn't this type of clothing mass marketed to little boys?" Her response was immediate, and the look of disgust on her face was clear.

"Oh my God, that would make adult men see little boys as sexual."

Quite an answer. The saddest thing to me? She still doesn't realize what her answer said, what it means she and society view as an acceptable way to let others view cis girl babies and toddlers.

Judy S. Lentz at 6:32 AM"

Since this post, I have discovered there are more stores offering "gender neutral" clothing, as well as the traditional "boys" and "girls" clothing departments. Care to guess which of the "boy" and "girl" departments that the "gender neutral" clothing more closely resembles? Doesn't take much thought, does it. Children's clothing departments might as well be labeled as "sexualized" and "non-sexualized."  That has been the two choices for the last few decades.  Which of those choices more resembles gender neutral clothing?  You got it, turns out, gender-neutral is simply non-sexualized. 

The Pretty Baby documentary made something clear that I hadn't heard mentioned before. An interesting change in marketing that coincided with another change years ago.  I don't know if it was necessarily on purpose, but when women started the first wave or two of feminism, something really fucked up started to happen about that same time, all in the name of "clothing choice," I guess? Little girls started to be more blatantly sexualized by the clothing being marketed for them. Cis female babies were endangered by a new, and growing threat in this country. A new kind of Americanized "burqa," a way of presenting little female children as more and more sexual, a clothing change that was eventually marketed for cis female children still in diapers. The idea of beauty was taken away from fully grown adult women, whose shapes and ages were once portrayed on screen by fully grown adult females with fully mature bodies, and replaced by younger prepubescent-looking girls.  The Pretty Baby documentary mentioned all of this.  Whether on purpose, or not, the results of this sexualization has been a continuing nightmare for younger and younger females.  Little girls, while still toddlers, got desensitized to the leering looks of adult men, while more and more adult men started seeing younger and younger girls as sexual.  When these girls got old enough to choose their own clothing, they simply went with what they knew, after already being taught that their worth was tied up with the sick sexual leers that passed as male attention in their lives.  Then they were told their continued wearing of sexualized clothing was their own "choice."  Instead of being handed the apple by the snake while an adult, female children grew up carrying apples already velcroed onto their child bodies.  They still end up being blamed for that goddam apple.  

And predatory men walk away blame free.

Where the fuck is Lilith when we need her...  

We need to start dressing all children in non-sexualized clothes.  Let them truly grow into their own sexuality, along with their peers, at a reasonable, natural pace. With their peers. Their goddam peers. No gross-ass old predator involvement at all.  And before anyone says little girls fucking old men is natural, that bullshit is straight from the bible of patriarchy.  It has nothing to do with nature.

My next post will focus on the two times in my life where I actually experienced momentary age appropriate sexuality, by my own choice, once as an eleven yr-old,  and again at nineteen.  (My post about my first kiss is one of the experiences I will expand on, and can be found by following this link: My first kiss )

Before anyone tries to label me as some sorta prude-ass churchy person, let me mention a well-known fact about my "godless" parenting style.  My kids had information from me, and access to condoms, from the time my oldest child was twelve.  Humans are sexual.  No prude bullshit is ever going to come out of my mouth.  As kids mature, they need to interact with their peers in a manner that helps them all become fully functioning responsible adults.  The operative words in my last sentence?  "Their peers."  Not old-ass predators.  I am quite comfortable in saying that making sure our children are protected from molesters and the predators who will pull trains on molested children for many years to come, will go a long way in slowing this current increase in self-harming and suicides in teen girls.

Children being assaulted and raped this second, do not need any goddam Marc Maron's in their futures.  And we gotta stop sexualizing cis female children.  That is not a fucking choice any child is making.

O Children

 O Children

There will be more victims

 In the middle of these past 9 months, since a millennial moment sent me down this Maron rabbit hole, the biggest part that has hurt my heart is watching how easily a sexual predator has slid into a new market for himself, a market of the most vulnerable humans on earth.  A market where this man has children, little girls, drawing pictures of Mr. Snake, to send to a man who will misuse and exploit some of these same little girls sexually the moment they turn 18, and who will receive some illegal pictures from some of these girls while they are still underage, pictures that he will not turn in to the FBI or to the parents/guardians of these girls.  And nobody is going to protect these children.  In many of my emails to Mr. Maron, I mention these children he is only just within the past few years starting to target.  They are the most vulnerable sector of the human population, and this man is being given more and more access to them, being actively marketed to them.

Since April 26, I have been trying to bring this predator into a public light, and my biggest reason for doing this is to try my best to protect the little girls this man will one day sexually exploit and leave suicidal, like the girl with a gun who was pleading Mr. Maron to take her back, in public replies on his posts that would disappear as soon as she posted them, words telling him she loved him, begging him not to ignore and ghost her anymore, now that he was done with her.  This girl was 12 when Mr. Maron filmed his Thanksgiving book-reading for children, which gets played in schools across our country.  This girl was shown Mr. Maron was safe, at twelve, by having him publicly marketed to her as a child.  A few years later, this girl, a girl diagnosed with BPD, a sexualized child, a suicidal girl with a gun in her possession and on display in her Instagram photos, was in a very real crisis, because Mr. Maron was done using her, and he did not give a shit about her anymore.  I was hoping my public words might, at the very least, make Mr. Maron decide to back off his playing more and more for a child market.

In his WTF podcast today, Marc Maron makes it clear he is hoping for more appearances by Mr. Snake in the future, and is publicly enjoying  how he is reaching children.  It hurt my heart so much to hear his words today.  He knows exactly what he is doing, and he knows nobody cares enough about sexualized little girls to ever stop him.  He will be marketed to more children.  He is happy about that.

Victims of sexual exploitation do not need public exposure.  That is a fundamental truth for me.  But right now, it is taking everything in me to not insert a picture of this suicidal little girl right here in this blog post, along with pictures of her posts full of suicidal ideation, and a photo of the gun in her possession.  I know such pictures might have an actual impact on those reading this.  That is probably the one thing I could do right now that might actually protect future children from being sexually exploited by this predator.  How in the hell do I weigh the damage that would do, me putting that broken girl's photos here, against the damage Mr. Maron is going to do to those victims he will be exploiting and throwing aside in the future?  

The pain of this is horrible for me. 

There will be no pictures in this post.

There are children, this second, who will be future victims of Mr. Maron's.  Nobody is protecting them.

Caring About What Others Say

Ever since I first started developing memories I have always been able to recall, somewhere around 2 years of age, I have felt a deep need to keep others happy.  I'm not sure why.  I was always sensitive to other's feelings, especially the feelings of non-humans.  (This post is an example of that behavior in action: Sensitivity.)  I do know that once I became an adult, there was a lot I never said, out of fear of offending anyone.  The minute I said anything that got a negative response, I would shut up.  I think this happens to a lot of people.  I think it comes from simply not wanting to be hurtful to others, which isn't bad, until it makes people stay quiet while others are being harmed.

As an adult, I have heard people say that I needed to learn to not pay attention to others who made me feel like I should shut up.  So many times I would hear things like, "Don't listen to them," "Let that shit roll off your back like water off a duck," "Do like a dog, kick some dirt over that bs and walk away," "You really need to stop caring about what others think," etc, etc.  I tried hard to figure out how to speak up about issues I felt were important, without letting other people's negative responses make me feel guilty or wrong for speaking.  I knew I was not ever intentionally trying to say mean or offensive things whenever I wanted to speak up.  I knew what I most wanted to say were words about issues that were very important to me.  Issues like the need for people to get their pets spayed or neutered.   Issues like the ever-increasing occurances of childhood sexual exploitation.   Specific issues like corporal punishment in schools, where I knew very well how my sda school principal had gotten hard-ons every time he got to hack little girls under his care, with the blessing of the school board and the church behind each one of those hacks.  Let me tell you, no teacher was ever gonna hack my kids.  Not with what I knew.  (Yes, I know not all teachers would be turned on by hacking students. Simply not a risk I was ever gonna take with my own children.)  The negative reactions of others to those things I once tried to say, always shut me down.  For many years.  Decades even.  A long-ass time.  Until they didn't. 

I don't know what flipped that switch for me, but I think working in shelter medicine/rescue helped a lot.  I knew the numbers, I saw the abuses and suffering created for thousands of stray/feral animals.  Anyone who tried to tell me I was wrong to speak up about spay/neuter, was a person I realized simply did not know the truth.  It wasn't my place to yell at or belittle or shame that person.  That was something I believe would have been wrong of me to do.  But I finally realized it was right for me to speak the truth I knew about this issue.  I could create a blog post like this, Spay/Neuter, and the misinformation inherent in any negative responses I got, made it easy for me to simply let such responses roll off my back.  I found my key to actually not letting other's opinions about my words get to me.  

My biggest breakthrough in speaking truth without letting negative responses get to me, was when I posted this. (Trigger warning)  My sister compared that post to the day she "came out" to our family.  It probably was somewhat similar.  When I hit "publish" on that post, it was a huge step in my life.  There were things others said about that post that could be hurtful, but nobody who tried to make me feel bad for saying those words about a disturbing issue, could make me feel bad for posting those words.  I knew those words needed to come out, for me, and for those who don't understand what trafficking and child sexualization looks like, how easily and often it occurs, how it is something that happens all around us, all the time.  

I have finally reached a point where I feel comfortable enough not to internalize guilt when others try to make me feel bad for speaking up about an important issue I know needs to be better understood.  The re-exploitation of sexually exploited children is commonplace.  Cis girls are being systemically sexualized in our society from birth/toddler-hood on, and then blamed and ascribed the very agency such childhood sexualization steals from them.  Sexualized and sexually exploited children are viewed as fair game, by celebrities like Marc Maron, and by a lot of society as a whole.  Finally, at 57, I have figured out how to speak the truth about this, and when others try to make me feel bad for speaking it, I can finally kick some dirt over that shit and walk away.

Beauty, and a prayer by Tina Fey

 There is a prayer I read awhile back, written by Tina Fey, and it ranks right up there with "Yea though I walk...," "Grace," and the "Our Father," in my opinion. One section in particular stood out to me, that Mother's Day I first read it years ago, because it sums up a truth most of us don't seem to comprehend. It's a concept I internally understood, but had not yet found a way to describe, until I read Tina's inspired words. Here is that section that stood out for me:

"May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty."

The minute my oldest son was born, I was filled with that deep, cellular-level parental love, an almost indescribable feeling that is universally experienced by many, but cannot be properly defined or explained. To me, my son was the most beautiful human I had ever seen. Suddenly, every bad driver on the road was a personal threat specifically to my child, a baby food company that was selling "apple juice" with no real apple in it was a company that deserved to be put on death row for endangering my child, every leader of any country who did not immediately destroy all weapons of mass destruction was a psychotic killer threatening my child. There are now 4 other humans on this planet who are loved by me in this dna-level deep way: my 2 other children and my grands. I did nothing to manufacture how I feel for them. Like breathing, it's just there. It is something so strong, I immediately identify with and feel connected to the mother bear that is instantaneously feared by any sensible human who spots a bear cub in the wild. Whether that mother bear can be seen or not, a being who has spotted a bear cub is in very clear and present danger. That mother bear and I share a bond, and anything she does to protect her offspring is perfectly acceptable and logical to me.

I don't know where that kind of deep emotion comes from. I have no way to shut it off, or to even comprehend any scenario where I would want to shut it off. It also leaves me unable to understand any human who can see any child as a target for exploitation of any kind.

My stepmother knew exactly which children were going to make easy targets for sexual exploitation. Predators have and hone this ability to spot vulnerable prey. After decades of trying to figure out what it is about myself, and others, that makes us stand out to predators, I still can't define what it is. But I can tell you what it isn't. It isn't beauty. It isn't height or weight or gender or any of many other outward attributes that might be defined as "attractive." Whatever it is that attracts sexual predators, it does not include beauty.  

No matter my age, my clothing choices, my outward appearance, I can still be spotted and approached by predators. I am no Helen Mirren or Nichelle Nichols. I am not aging in any way that could be defined as beautiful. But I still attract predators. This is no compliment. It is a dangerous deficit I would like to be rid of. I can only conclude that whatever attracts sexual predators to specific prey, exploitation during childhood reinforces and strengthens that "attractiveness," and leaves such prey vulnerable to predators in apparent perpetuity. A person who tries to describe being such a target for predators is not bragging or being vain. They are describing what it means to be prey.

Here is Tina Fey's full prayer:

A MOTHER’S PRAYER FOR HER CHILD BY TINA FEY

“First, Lord: No tattoos. May neither Chinese symbol for truth nor Winnie-the-Pooh holding the FSU logo stain her tender haunches.

May she be Beautiful but not Damaged, for it’s the Damage that draws the creepy soccer coach’s eye, not the Beauty.

When the Crystal Meth is offered, may she remember the parents who cut her grapes in half And stick with Beer.

Guide her, protect her when crossing the street, stepping onto boats, swimming in the ocean, swimming in pools, walking near pools, standing on the subway platform, crossing 86th Street, stepping off of boats, using mall restrooms, getting on and off escalators, driving on country roads while arguing, leaning on large windows, walking in parking lots, riding Ferris wheels, roller-coasters, log flumes, or anything called “Hell Drop,” “Tower of Torture,” or “The Death Spiral Rock ‘N Zero G Roll featuring Aerosmith,” and standing on any kind of balcony ever, anywhere, at any age.

Lead her away from Acting but not all the way to Finance. Something where she can make her own hours but still feel intellectually fulfilled and get outside sometimes And not have to wear high heels. What would that be, Lord? Architecture? Midwifery? Golf course design? I’m asking You, because if I knew, I’d be doing it, Youdammit.

May she play the Drums to the fiery rhythm of her Own Heart with the sinewy strength of her Own Arms, so she need Not Lie With Drummers.

Grant her a Rough Patch from twelve to seventeen.Let her draw horses and be interested in Barbies for much too long, For childhood is short – a Tiger Flower blooming Magenta for one day – And adulthood is long and dry-humping in cars will wait.

O Lord, break the Internet forever, that she may be spared the misspelled invective of her peers And the online marketing campaign for Rape Hostel V: Girls Just Wanna Get Stabbed.

And when she one day turns on me and calls me a Bitch in front of Hollister, Give me the strength, Lord, to yank her directly into a cab in front of her friends, For I will not have that Shit. I will not have it.

And should she choose to be a Mother one day, be my eyes, Lord, that I may see her, lying on a blanket on the floor at 4:50 A.M., all-at-once exhausted, bored, and in love with the little creature whose poop is leaking up its back. “My mother did this for me once,” she will realize as she cleans feces off her baby’s neck. “My mother did this for me.” And the delayed gratitude will wash over her as it does each generation and she will make a Mental Note to call me. And she will forget. But I’ll know, because I peeped it with Your God eyes.

Amen.”  -Tina Fey

A Month of Pain

 I know I am not supposed to show weakness.  But I am sick of having to hide my lifetime of pain.  I am sick of watching other little girls like I was, going thru pain.

Mental Health Awareness Month came and went, and not one word of acknowledgement from Mr. Maron about the way he has publicly joked about, misused, groomed, and harmed very young girls with BPD.  Nothing. During my 8 months of trying to reach him by doing what others had done, by sending him emails using every written technique I was able to think of, I tried to explain how sexual abuse is not some horrendous slur he has used for decades, "Daddy Issues."  How a BPD diagnosis is not a label saying "This person will be easy and exciting to fuck, and a lunatic I can make fun of and blame afterwards."  How suicidal thoughts, and self-harming behaviors of broken abuse victims with BPD was not something to ignore after he was done sexually exploiting broken girls.  I truly believed the man who was convinced by a fan to stop using the R word, who stopped telling jokes made at the expense of the LGBTQIA+ community, would be able to see that he had been harming a very young and damaged group that needed desperately for men like him to stop continuing to destroy them.  Then I saw the little girl with the gun.

When I realized he could ignore that broken girl after he was done with her, even after everything he had read that I had sent to him about the damage he was doing to this group I belong to, I knew I could stay silent no more.  

Speaking up has not been easy.  The words some people feel justified in saying to me hurt.  But do you know what I already knew would hurt the worst?  And does hurt the worst?   The way a man, who I once respected, who has changed his mind and publicly spoken up and changed his behavior regarding his past treatment of other groups from the stage, is never going to even once acknowledge the pain in the words I have sent him, and have now made public, in trying to make a difference for the group I belong to.  He does not give a shit about broken little girls.  They are fuckable and leavable.  That's what what we are for.  That is the biggest lesson my childhood taught me.

I'm glad Mr. Maron has started off Pride Month so strong in his June 1 podcast intro, for me and my friends and family who are part of this group that has been so harmed and marginalized and mistreated. 

My heart hurts, because Mr. Maron will never once even acknowledge the damage he does to little broken mentally destroyed girls who have been thru hells just like mine.  His ability to simply dismiss my words privately for 8 months, and now publicly throughout all of Mental Health Awareness Month, it fucking hurts.