Maybe I was only ever just your bartender, waitress, checkout girl, seamstress, childcare provider, ex-girlfriend, show promoter, charity worker, show goer, or even just the girl in the bar seat next to you. But here’s who else I am: I am the survivor of a sexual assault at the age of 16 by a man more than 10 years older than me. This man cornered me in a room and tried to force me to perform sexual acts on him, stating he would tell everyone in the van I did it anyway so I might as well. When I fled the room, he chased me down the hall, pinning me against a wall and shoving his hands down every orifice he could find while shoving his mouth over mine to prevent my muffled screams and tears from being heard. When I eventually broke free, I locked myself in an abandoned room until friends came to me. I slept in that room only to be disturbed once by a band member who simply knocked on the door and said, “You don’t have to open the door, just listen. You don’t even have to tell me what happened because I already know and I’m really sorry.” And I’m not sorry if YOU CAN’T HANDLE THAT.
When I came out that next morning, 16 years ago, the band was gone, my wallet was stolen, and I was left a shirt by the band as if it were some sort of consolation prize. The irony of the band’s name, and me being a CASUALTY in my own right, was not lost on me. All these years later and every time I write those words, speak them, re-live them, I choke back vomit. I remember how The Singer smelled, tasted, his jagged rotten teeth, his worn leather skin, how the band argued about not cutting their hair because it was their statement, and mostly how utterly fucking helpless I felt. How scared, dirty, ashamed, used, rejected, confused, alone, and ruined I felt. I feel all those emotions when my friends play shows and fests with this man. When they put their arms around him at bars, when they defend him. Hell, I feel all this just because he simply still breathes. Through my travels, I met other girls and heard their stories and know that no justice has ever been served. Not legally, not musically, not even a small road bump in his band or his shitty pathetic life. And now… now I’m at fault for telling my story again I’m sure because man…you already bought those show tickets and they WERE $30.00 and you don’t want that going to waste. Yeah, I get it. I told. I’m the bad guy.
… this woman was sexually assaulted by Jorge of the Casualties… the band knew of her experience and did nothing about it. burn your patches and tshirts, don’t go to their shows, and spread the fucking word… from la blogger that used to go by xicanagrrrl and has seen this rapist-worship and cover-up jobs in “radical/alternative”circles for too long.