Hashtag-Me-Too ~ #MondayBlogs

RAINN and other well-known sources have been citing appalling statistics about sexual assault and abuse in America since 1994. However it wasn’t until 2016 and 2017 when a deluge of sexual assault/abuse/harassment allegations against famous personalities came to the forefront that most people started mouthing the words, “I can’t believe how many allegations...” Earlier this year Facebook saw a huge amount of their members posting #MeToo representing those of us who suffered in silence and in solidarity; most posters were women although several men joined in as well.

Do you feel as if you’ve been bombarded by the amount of women, men and (former) children who have stepped up with their stories of abuse? According to RAINN’s most recent facts “1 out of every 6 American women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape in her lifetime” and “About 3% of American men have experienced an attempted or completed rape in their lifetime.” There are even more disturbing facts when you consider that “From 2009-2013, Child Protective Services agencies substantiated, or found strong evidence to indicate that, 63,000 children a year were victims of sexual abuse.” For more statistics visit https://www.rainn.org/statistics/scope-problem .

Have these numbers bothered you yet? Think about the teen-age girls traveling the NYC subways during rush hour, when bodies are jam-packed against one another and suddenly there is a hand exploring their genital area (or worse) — I know this happened often to my travel companions and myself during our high school years. There are too many stories about women being propositioned in return for otherwise well-deserved work promotions and far too many stories where the advances were turned down and yet the word NO held no meaning. Of course most of us are highly offended hearing about children who were molested by that favorite “Uncle” (or “Aunt”) and then dismissed when they tried to tell Mommy and Daddy. I know there are horror stories about men being victimized by women as well and also same-sex assaults.

There is a sad sickness in our society when a woman is blamed for getting raped because she was walking home alone at night, or when a 14-year old child “allows” an adult to liberties. How twisted is the logic that believes a prisoner in jail, even for minor infractions, “deserves” to be raped? And why do we find different standards and excuses based on someone’s political position, financial status, being a movie star, or his/her skin color or sexual preference? How can any decent human being believe that a woman who doesn't want it and fights cannot be raped?! Why do some states treat marital rape, even though illegal in all 50 states, different when it comes to punishment? And why are there so many complaints about college administrations who hide the incidence of rape and sexual assault rather than pursuing full police investigations and arrests?

I am aware that there will be someone reading this who will offer up the possibility of false accusations and the permanent damage that can cause the unjustly blamed. Yes, false accusations can cause lifetime trauma leading to broken marriages, loss of employment and even worse. But I honestly believe that the actual incidence of rape and unwanted sexual encounters, even those that are not prosecuted, are far more common than false allegations; in this instance we hope that the law and juries can see through to the truth. But I will admit feelings of anger when the reaction to an accusation is automatically greeted with the assumption that the victim is crying “wolf”.

Knowing how many of us were compelled to post “#MeToo” is sad. And learning how many rape and assault survivors have felt they had to keep silent because their character would be questioned or condemned is tragic.

…just my thoughts,
Chelle Cordero,
author of The Survivor Series: Bartlett’s Rule & Courage of the Heart

                                                                                                   

...

Fifteen Years to Think ~ #MondayBlogs

For me, like many others in America, yesterday, September 11, was a day of reflection, prayer, shudders, and probably some tears. Like many others in America I can recall almost exactly where I was, who I spoke to, the horror I felt as I watched (on TV) the buildings as one burnt, the other was attacked, and they both fell. There was added shock as we heard of the attack on the Pentagon and the plane crash in Pennsylvania. And like many other Americans I attended candlelight vigils, reached out to friends and relatives, and cried.

On Tuesday, September 11, 2001 I went back to bed after my son left for school for time to cuddle with my husband who had an unexpected day off. [He was working as an Audio Visual tech on a two-day event in NYC; due to a scheduling conflict the event was scheduled for the 10^th and the 12^th and was being held in the Marriot Hotel at the World Trade Center.]

Shortly before 9:00 AM my sister called, she had been watching TV, I remember her words, “A plane just hit one of the World Trade Center buildings… Go turn on your TV.” I ran to the living room incoherently repeating what I couldn’t yet believe, my husband followed. We turned the set on and saw flames from one of the buildings and it was just minutes later that we watched a plane hit building 2. I remember hearing someone, myself, repeating “Oh my G-d, oh my G-d.”

A friend of mine, a paramedic, called, the siren screaming behind her, asking me to cancel our ambulance youth squad meeting that night and telling me that her rig was heading to lower Manhattan. I remember the distress in her voice. I made phone calls and left voice messages cancelling the meeting.

My sister and I were on the phone again. She was calling relatives who worked in Manhattan to make sure they were all alright and we were running down the list.

Almost an hour after the first plane struck, building 2 crumbled with everyone watching TV witnessing it. My husband was getting dressed to head to our local ambulance corps building 40 minutes north of the devastation.

The phone rang again, this time it was our son, he was hiding in a school alcove using a cell phone from his backpack that was supposed to remain off while at school. “Mom, where is Dad?” I can still hear the terror in his words even now 15 years later. I was able to reassure him that his dad was safe.

About an hour and a half after I turned my television on, building 1 collapsed demolishing the Marriot Hotel and setting 7 WTC on fire. After another phone call, this time from my daughter (upstate at college) checking on our safety and telling me she was heading back home, I got dressed and followed my husband to the local ambulance corps where we both volunteered as EMTs.

People congregated at the building offering help answering phones, comforting and treating distraught walk-ins, and setting up rehab for any of the wounded transported here because the NYC hospitals were both overflowing and too close to an area in danger. I sat with two young men who were desperate to hear about family, one cousin and one father – the father made it home, the cousin perished in the rubble. We began to hear of other community members who were never going to come home again.

Most of the youth squad members showed up at the building despite receiving the messages. My daughter made the trek home and helped with all the phone calls, oversaw the youth members, and assisted walk-ins. At one point we received the directive from our county’s EMS control that most of the corps, including ours, were sending crews to the city. A few of our youth squad members helped outfit the truck with the specified equipment. My son was one of the teenagers assigned to readying the truck.

My husband was one of four EMTs who went to the city. Our rig was one of a long line of ambulances sent to the disaster from all over the tristate area. They stood by through the night and many went home the next morning frustrated by the lack of injured — too many deaths and too few still alive to receive treatment and transport, too few to save.

Fifteen years since this horror… the Freedom Tower now stands in lower Manhattan, and reflecting pools mark the footprint of the original buildings. The National 9/11 Memorial at the World Trade Center and many memorials throughout the tristate area have helped to document the events of the day. Families and friends who lost loved ones have learned somehow to survive with the loss and pain.

Those of us who lived the day will never forget.

Around the World With Passion & Suspense

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Chelle Cordero writes stories of Passion and Suspense. Vanilla Heart Publishing has published ten Cordero novels: Bartlett’s Rule; His Lucky Charm; Within the Law; Courage of the Heart; Final Sin; Hostage Heart; A Chaunce of Riches; Common Bond, Tangled Hearts; Hyphema; and Karma Visited.

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