Silently Seething

I've been in a silent seething rage, since oh, about age 5.  Meaning that's been for the the past 40 years.  Over the past few months one of my primary issues has gotten stirred up a lot in regard to the stories and allegations swirling about the Penn State - Jerry Sandusy (who is a scumbag who should be castrated w/a rusty knife and no pain meds) scandal and the Joe Pa-Paterno is a saint who should be beatified immediately bullshit media-maelstrom.  Upon hearing the latest news of Joe Paterno's death this past weekend, Facebook was ablaze with posts and tweets re-posted extolling his greatness and how sad it is that he died.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not happy that the man died, it is indeed sad that his final days were marred by scandal and finger pointing.  I'm sure he did die with the proverbial broken heart and spirit.  What sickens me and has me so fighting mad is that there's been a constant barrage of media and social commentary about "Poor Joe-Pa", as though his inaction and lack of leadership during this disgusting child sex abuse scandal don't matter.  Joe's been painted to be the scapegoat in this scandal, the trustees of PSU have been made to look like members of some Skull & Bones Fraternal Order and Jerry Sandusky has not been vilified nearly enough in the press for the crimes that he's committed.  What no one seems to be saying, tweeting or lighting candles about is how sorry we all out to be towards the kids who were the true victims in this situation.

I feel further agitated about all the crocodile tears spilled, the looting and riots, the lighting of candles and lights on in his memory at Beaver Stadium, the flags flying at half-staff in Harrisburg and in (Not-so) Happy Valley all in his honor and memory instead of in honor of the children who had their lives ruined and childhoods stolen.  This is all in the name of F^C%ING FOOTBALL.  I've always hated the sport; now I despise it.  Then again, I'm more a fan of baseball, America's past-time.  It may have it's issues, hello, Juicers and Big-headed arrogant pigs who think they are better than the sport and its fans, but as far as I know, there aren't any continual issues with raping kids and covering it up so as to not upset the money machine.

I did not attend Penn State - I never wanted to go there. The campus was too big, too far away and I had no desire to be lost in the brain-washing culture of the WE ARE PENN STATE mentality  It's all about conformity and football, two issues of which I have no interest.  I just don't "get it".  My partner's brother, his wife, their cousins and friends, and many other friends and acquaintances of mine are PSU alumni.  The school is so huge that it's impossible not to know several dozen people who attended.  I could easily get into a fighting war of words with all the people I know who changed their Facebook profile pictures to the Nittany Lion with a tear drop, or those who now sport the illustrations of Saint Joe wearing his trademark fedora and a halo floating above it.  Buying into this mass culture loving memory of all that is sacred and holy at PSU smacks of people not thinking, of towing the line and yes, feeling a part of something that is larger than they are.  And that's what bugs me a lot too.  There's no individual thinking.  There's also the being a part of a community that makes me a wee bit envious, as I've never really shared that feeling, having been an outsider all my life. When you grow up with shattered trust, it's pretty difficult to want to join others and feel safe in the collective group.  Being beaten by your parents, verbally and emotionally humiliated your whole life and molested as a child does that to a person.

A facebook friend I know from high school posted an article from the UK about not rushing to turn Joe Paterno into a martyr or saint so fast.  It takes someone from across the world to be able to objectively see the issues of turning him into a hero.  Last night I was raging with anger and pain over the non-stop tributes, the tv media talking to PSU students who were lamenting that his last days shouldn't have been like this.  He should have been allowed to go out with dignity, blah blah frickin' blah. Cry me a flippin river.  To this I add, he was a FOOTBALL Coach.  He didn't solve world peace, create antidotes to disease or help the economy outside of Penn State.  I know all about his hard work and dedication, the money he gave and helped to raise to and for the school.  What I cannot get past, and this is where it turns so personal for me, is that he didn't do anything to help those kids who were raped and abused by Jerry Sandusky.  He did the bare minimum and turned it over to those who did nothing, for years.  There are other posts I found today, shared or written by people I know.  A friend wrote that she didn't understand why the flags were flying at half staff.  A link to a blog was added, that sums up the anger and rage that so many of us survivors of incest and rape go through.  It's angrier than I could ever be and knowing the depths of my own rage, that's pretty intense.  It's called, F@cK Joe P.  It's worth a read as it captures things that I've not wanted to say out loud before.

I could go on and on but what's the point? It's already been written by far more eloquent writers than me.  What I will say is that the trigger point for me is about the fact that responsible people in charge of kids did nothing but look the other way, wring their hands and let this happen for years, again and again.  As a child who was molested by my step-father, Ray, and then by others in my childhood, this kind of damage lasts forever and mars whatever chances you have at having a normal sexual identity. Just about everyone in my family left me to the wolves.  If it weren't for outsides, teachers, the kindly old lady from down the street who took care of me, I be another tragic statistic, turning to drugs or worse.  No one in my family stepped in to stop the abuse.  Everyone was too afraid, didn't want to get involved, worried that my mother would, I don't know, turn her Medusa look towards them and turn them to real stone?  I felt damaged from my earliest memories, far too young to know for certain what age I was when it happened to me, but it was between the ages of 3 to 6.  Is that normal? No.  To be sexually abused, physically abused, verbally abused as much as I was before I was 6 years old gives you a certain perspective - a bit skewed and very fcuked up when it comes to authority figures, giving and receiving love, and feeling normal.  You never feel normal because you aren't.  When those in responsible positions either do nothing to help or help to perpetuate the abuse either through inaction or by further adding to the abuse, you feel more than let down.  You feel depressed and worthless.  So reading about this memorial tributes to Joe Pa and how he's been maligned really pisses me off.  No, he didn't rape any kids but he sure as hell helped to make sure it continued by not doing something more than tell somebody else.  He's as culpable as Jerry Sandusky and that coward who witnessed the infamous shower scene, assistant Coach Mike McQueary.  Funny enough, he's not been made out to be a hero in this debacle, thankfully.  I do think he needs to be held accountable too for his role in not stepping up and taking action where it was needed.

So all of you at PSU, think about this for a moment when you are mourning the life of Joe Pa - he was a mere mortal, who did some great things but he left this world with a stain on his soul, one that can never be removed.  A stain like the one smeared on all those boys, and all of us who have suffered such abuses.  Pray for us when you're saying your prayers for Joe's soul.  We all could use a bit of peace too.