mogstar
.
- Joined
- Dec 17, 2020
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I'm a feminist, but misogyny feels right
nsfw
I grew up in a very traditional religious community, and it was made clear to me that my father owned me - the only thing that would be more powerful than the ownership of my father, which was absolute, was being owned by my future husband. The authority of men was sacred. It wasn't something to be suspected or laughed at.
My value as a girl was to be good. Being a whore wasn't an aspiration in itself, but being pleasing was demanded of me. Disobedience in a woman was considered disgusting, unthinkable. I grew up with the sense that I didn't have meaningful rights, because I was a girl.
And perhaps this is why, when I was raped even as an adult, I stayed still for my rapists, I tried to make my tongue and throat feel good for them when they forced themselves into my mouth, and I contracted my muscles for them when they were inside me, hoping they would enjoy my body while they raped me. I wanted their lust, to validate my existence. I wanted to please them, because they were men. And in some senses, I really did want them to rape me.
When I think of my pathetic, obedient attitude, I can't help but touch myself, but the shame is overwhelming. I don't believe any other women should be raped. But when it comes to myself, while I never want to be raped again, I can't help feeling somehow that it's my place.
nsfw
I grew up in a very traditional religious community, and it was made clear to me that my father owned me - the only thing that would be more powerful than the ownership of my father, which was absolute, was being owned by my future husband. The authority of men was sacred. It wasn't something to be suspected or laughed at.
My value as a girl was to be good. Being a whore wasn't an aspiration in itself, but being pleasing was demanded of me. Disobedience in a woman was considered disgusting, unthinkable. I grew up with the sense that I didn't have meaningful rights, because I was a girl.
And perhaps this is why, when I was raped even as an adult, I stayed still for my rapists, I tried to make my tongue and throat feel good for them when they forced themselves into my mouth, and I contracted my muscles for them when they were inside me, hoping they would enjoy my body while they raped me. I wanted their lust, to validate my existence. I wanted to please them, because they were men. And in some senses, I really did want them to rape me.
When I think of my pathetic, obedient attitude, I can't help but touch myself, but the shame is overwhelming. I don't believe any other women should be raped. But when it comes to myself, while I never want to be raped again, I can't help feeling somehow that it's my place.
