Things that make me mad... yes I am going to write about this because it angers me to see things like this happen.
Reading an article today about and Afghan woman being jailed for a "moral crime," the crime you ask? She was raped and became pregnant. She gave birth while in prison. Yes, this really happened. You may have already heard about this, as I am a little behind on things going on in the news these days. But if you haven't here is a link to the article (Click Here). She was pardoned and freed only after agreeing to marry the man who had committed such a heinous crime against her. My thought on this is "that has to be an awful marriage." Can you imagine the distrust and the amount of hatred that is running through the veins of this woman.
Think about if this was you... no seriously, think about it. Your life as you know it stops because you are raped. Then you go to jail because you are considered to be the immoral one here. Then you find out you are pregnant as a result of the whole ordeal. So not only did this happen to you but now you have to carry a baby from an unwanted act against you. You find out after having the baby that you are going to be released from prison on the condition that you marry the man who did this to you and whose baby you had. Now think, how would you feel? How would you feel living day in and day out in a house with this very man? How would you feel living with someone you are supposed to love when you can barely look at them without thinking terrible things about? Put yourself in her shoes long enough to realize that she deals with that pain everyday.
The government in her country sees this as her problem and not the mans. That is what makes me mad. It makes me mad that she is not able to be seen as a victim long enough for her to get help. It also makes me mad that she is probably not the first that this has happened to and she is most definitely not the last.
Having personal experience with this, let me tell you ... living in the same city with the person and being fearful of running into them in public (which happened ... recently - I'll get there in a few words). I never reported what happened to me to police or anyone really. I actually didn't even tell my family about it until last year. It is no longer an open wound, it is a scar. Open wounds hurt ... all the time. When they start scabbing over, what do you do? You peal the scab off. Why? No one knows, it is just a compulsion. You just do it, making your scab an open wound again. No matter what you do to try and cover it up, your open wound is still there. It still hurts and it still haunts you. Once the scab begins to become so much of your skin that you forget it is a scab you stop picking at it as much, but you look at it and still remember why it is there and how it happened and when and exactly what you were doing when it happened. Same way with scars. Scars don't hurt anymore, the memory may hurt for a little while and when you tell the story you may tear up, but you never relive that moment exactly how it happens. Time does heal, just as time heals a physical open wound/scab. This has become a scar. Yet every time I read a story or see a news report about this type of thing happening to women it breaks my heart. I feel for them in a way that some cannot. I do not like that I can relate in that way, yet those are the cards God has metaphorically laid out for me. I have since forgiven said man, but it is still a scar.
A couple of weeks ago a few of us went out to a local pizza place (very near to the 7 year rememiversary - as I call it... don't like calling it an anniversary because it is not something enjoyable to remember). While we were waiting for our table in walks the guy and his family. I started shaking and couldn't catch my breath. I told a girl that was with us, because I needed to tell someone. I just couldn't bear that one alone. He was standing maybe 10 feet away from us. I couldn't look at him. I knew he couldn't do anything to me and not that I thought that he would try. Right after he walked in, one of my guy friends walked in behind him and his family. My friend actually ended up standing where it blocked my view of the guy. My heart raced the entire time we were at dinner. His family was seated before our group, when we were seated I sat where my back was faced to their table and couldn't focus on that the entire time we were there. Even though I have forgiven him, the scar is still there. I still remember what happened, where I was, what I was thinking ... I remember.
This woman is forced to live with the man who attacked her. I cannot imagine the things this woman has gone through or what she is still going through this very day. No one can really understand her pain unless you are living through it. My momentary run in with him has nothing on her everyday life. She doesn't have a chance for this to become a scar, it is forever an open wound.
Really gives you something to think about, doesn't it.
