Would readers be able to understand the conflicted feelings I had for the person who abused me? Would I be able to reflect the nuances of this dangerous relationship? How could I escape from the binary of victim/perpetrator, which could not completely capture my experience? Perhaps the most frightening thought was: How will other women view me? And underneath that: Will my personhood, my humanity, be heard and respected in light of this experience? As I began the first draft in my mid-twenties, I struggled with how my story might be read. My book, Excavation, had not been an easy one to write (what book is?), but had been made even more difficult by the confusion I felt during its writing. This story was originally published online on April 23, 2018.įourteen years after writing the first draft of my memoir, I was standing in front of audiences, published book in hand, reading about the period of my life in which I was, as most readers understand it, the victim of a predatory man, namely my junior high English teacher. This article was published in Revenge Issue #78 | Spring 2018 Subscribe »
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