#if you hate buffy summers please just block me like get the fuck away from me immediately you monster

[raisedbythetv89]

Just saw someone being judgmental towards Buffy and Buffy ALONE for victim blaming in the Beauty and the Beasts episode…..

GEE I WONDER WHY BUFFY WOULD CURRENTLY THINK EVERYTHING THAT HAPPENS TO VICTIMS IS THEIR FAULT AND WAS THEIR RESPONSIBILITY TO PREVENT

Calling out only ONE character in btvs for this behavior, and the one who is victim blamed herself the most is not the call out you think it is…. Like have you been paying attention AT ALL up to this point??? Do you only see the victim blaming when it’s that blatantly obvious???

Btvs has a SYSTEMIC victim blaming problem that obviously stems directly from jw himself as xander is also the biggest perpetrator of blaming Buffy for every single terrible thing that happens to or even AROUND her followed by Joyce, Riley and Faith. Anya, Cordy, and Spike’s (in season 4) are used less frequently to blame Buffy as well with joss pretending they are just being blunt and honest but it’s just furthering the “everything is Buffy’s fault” narrative and that is NEVER countered by the narrative or any of the other characters!!!! Occasionally Willow will advocate for not attacking Buffy or assigning blame but even that is rooted in her fear of conflict and wanting to keep the peace more often than it being about believing Buffy isn’t at fault and just defending her.

It’s not until season 6 and joss is less involved that we finally get Spike telling Buffy “it isn’t her fault” with Katrina and Tara forgiving her for both loving and using Spike and girlie has an entire mental breakdown both times because being forgiven and accepted instead of blamed for mistakes literally DOES NOT COMPUTE and she BEGS to be punished and told she’s wrong because she doesn’t know how to accept anything else because of her treatment at the hands of her “friends”, family and romantic partners for the last five years

Even in fiction we need to practice not just looking at a person’s problematic behavior on an individual level but within the context of the systems they live in and the community they are surrounded by.

If you’re genuinely shocked and confused the parentified slayer who has heard “one girl in all the world” more times than she can count, was blamed by her mother for “not making better choices and having better judgment” when she was the victim of a manipulative and predatory older man and feels responsible for all the harm and deaths ANGELUS caused just because she had sex once AND for having to send Angel to hell and therefore feels responsible for nursing him back to health as well you haven’t been paying attention to the actual dynamics at play or what’s been going on up to that point AT ALL.

[thestorybrookeclocktower]

I’ve been abused. This is the first time I admit it to myself.

I’ve been abused several times, psychologically, mostly, but also phisically and sexually. It’s hard to admit it. It’s been harder to realize it.

I was an abused child. Before I dig into it, I’d like to point out that I’m managing to do this only thanks to She-Ra, to Catra, in particular, to Adora, and to this video: https://youtu.be/arsKPegw1Tg . So thank you, Noelle Stevenson, and thank you, whoever made that video.

I’m frightened, right now. I’m scared as fuck. I think I don’t know myself, I think I never did. But I must go on, I must find out who I really am. I owe it to myself. I’ve been hiding for too long.

I was an abused child, and I have to write it down because my mind keeps escaping that. It’s hard to stay focused, and that never happens to me, I’m a writer, when I write I’m concentrated, focused, but now... now it seems like my brain’s floating away. And I can’t let it do it.

My parents divorced when I was two or three years old, I’m not sure about it. I clearly remember the day my father went away, the door slamming, my mom crying and myself trying to reassure her, telling her I was there, she had notHing to worry about. I was always way older than my age.

After that, I guess (my memories are a bit confused in the timeline), my grandmother (so I was told) convinced my father to build a wall during the night in the middle of our house to split it in two. I remember waking up and finding this rough, grey wall. My mom lied and told me there had been a earthquake and that the wall fell down. I didn’t know how a collapsed wall would look like, and believed her. My father left us without a kitchen. As I said, I was two or three years old. Thinking about it now, it hurts me to think of how hard it must have been for my mother to face all of this. My father used to beat her, when they were together. She told me that he broke her cranium, once. I cant remember it, I don’t even know if I ever witnessed when it happened. But still.

Later, my mother fell in love with the man who became my step-father. He was our neighbor, they worked together so they already knew each other.

My father disappeared for two years. I spent one year living with my grandparents in another city, because my mother worked and wasn’t home for days, so che couldn’t leave me alone all that time. I remember missing her, and nothing more.

Then, I remember growing up with my mother’s partner trying to be a father. He couldn’t. He was mean to me. His idea of education was based on yells and threats. He continuously told me that I wasn’t his daughter, that I was nothing, that I was worth nothing.

I also remember that I wanted to be hurt. I wanted to hurt myself and, in my fantasies, when I played alone in my room or in the garden, I imagined my “enemies” kidnapping me and me sacrificing to save my friends. That thing lasted. I would always want to sacrifice to save someone I cared about, but who didn’t care about me as much as I did. I still have to understand why. I just need some time, I guess. After all, I just found out I have wounds.

We moved. My father came back, at some point. He started sending the police at our new home, accusing my mother of child abuse, I guess, and trying to claim me as if I was some kind of property. I guess I started feeling like an object when I spent my weekends and summer or winter vacations with him. He had the right to spend time with me, I didn’t have the right to choose. I don’t think he never treated me bad, he was simply unable to be a good father. He just left me with his friends’ children to play. I had fun with them, anyway. I always insisted to be the victim in our playtime, though. Something bad would always happen to my character. I often played the villain (they were happy with it, none ever wanted to be the villain but me), but my villain always had a reason, a past, a complicated story that led them to the dark side.

I guess I was never really happy. There was always this shadow, this weight on my soul. I still can’t name it. I only know it’s there, but it’s lighter today. Maybe because I see it for the first time.

When I went to middle school, I was depressed. I kept saying “we’ll die anyway, what changes if I do or I don’t do this?”. I also developed a passion for swords and daggers. I always read a lot, especially fantasy books, so I guess it was just natural that I started loving blade weapons.

I also felt guilty for continuously feeling sad. I thought I didn’t really have a reason. My family had money, I went to holiday four times per year instead than just twice, everything I asked they would just buy it to me. But my stepfather would always rub it in. He made me feel like I owed him everything I had, because he was the one who paid the bills. He is an alcoholic. He freaks out every time he gets drunk, and he starts drinking at ten a.m.. He would walk naked at home. I was way too young to see a naked man when it happened the first time. He also spied on me when I was in my room, so I was always anxious that he was watching me and could never relax.

I wasn’t good at school, I only liked mathematics but was terrible at all the rest. I just couldn’t concentrate, and now I know that I had locked myself in my fantasies, in another world, where I was strong, powerful, where I was happy. No, no, sorry. I’m lying to myself again. It didn’t go this way, actually. I locked myself in another world, it’s true, but that world was horrible. I was becoming a teenager and I started watching Buffy, so I was pretty obsessed by vampires at the time, and also I was starting to realize what sexual desire is. The thing is, in my fantasy I was powerful, yes, I was strong, but I was always defeated. I would get captured by this beautiful vampire woman who would torture me to death and then turn me into something different, with magic. I would become her sexual slave. I fell in love with her, in my mind, and I would submit to her. It’s embarrassing to admit it, yeah, it sucks, it’s rape, torture and Stockholm syndrome. But that’s the truth. As I said, I wanted to be hurt.

Also, despite this I never admitted to myself I liked girls. I didn’t even consider it as a possibility, I told myself I was in love with Angel (surprise, with the bad guy trying to redeem himself! Who would have thought that?).

At the same time, my mom got a bad self-immune disease and lost her job. Also, in the same years, one of the teacher at school started targeting me. I was shy and insecure and she would take advantage of it and humiliate me in front of everyone. She seriously damaged me, my self-confidence (as if I had any), and my stepfather made it only worse. I got bad grades from her (even when I was prepared I was so anxious that I couldn’t speak when she questioned me) and he got angry and yelled at me that I was stupid, that I was unable to do anything, that I was an imbecile and that I was worth nothing. Once he threw a school book at me and broke my lip.

My mother tried to comfort me, but I always hid what I was feeling. I was really, really depressed. So much that one day I grabbed one of my collectible daggers and aimed it at my stomach, and I pushed. I wanted to die. I wanted it to end. And I wanted a slow, painful death.

But I stopped. I didn’t even get a scratch, not because I changed my mind, not because I couldn’t find the “bravery” to kill myself, but because I didn’t want to hurt my mom. I knew she would be devastated if I died, and that is the only reason why I didn’t push harder. She still doesn’t know about all of this.

I guess I made myself a promise, that day: I’d be stronger. And it was a mistake, because I locked the doors of my heart doing so.

Years passed by. I learned Kung-Fu, I made some friends, just a few, lost others, this is not the point. They didn’t abuse me.

I started dating guys. Older boys, usually, and I convinced myself I was in love with them. One touched me without asking my permission, and I didn’t stop him. I was so stupid... gah. I wanted people to like me so much that I pretended to be like them. I told them I liked music I didn’t like, stuff like that. Silly, silly young me. I was lost and I didn’t know it.

Other years, more boys. I’m pretty, and I know it, and I used it to flirt with basically any guy I found. Shame on me, I know. I only kissed them. After all, I wasn’t even attracted by them. I liked girls, even if I didn’t want to accept it. I was already different, I didn’t want to be even more isolated.

I also spent a lot of time online chatting and gaming. I used to play to this online role play game by chat, I had found the perfect, fake, fantasy world there. My first character was an elf with positive alignment. I stopped playing her because she bored me. My second character was a sociopathic girl, a sadistic villain. I still have that character, even though I don’t play her anymore. I made her torture and try to kill innocent people several times. She was my dark side. I used her to take out my darkest instincts. I’m ashamed of who I was, now. I became a bully for a couple of years, a dangerous person, a mean person. I hate myself for that.

I was in high school and I was a little more equilibrated when this guy I knew since first grade asked me out. I knew he liked me since then, so I thought I had power on him (because that’s why I flirted with guys, I liked the power I had on them). He took me on his minicar and we found ourself in an isolated parking lot. He was never a healthy person. He was unstable since he was a kid, but he had always been kind with me. He was kind and pleasing even that night. And manipulative. And abusive. He used my ever-present sense of guilt, he told me I had to because he took me in his car and drove for me and waited all of those years, and he insisted for maybe half an hour until I gave in (I couldn’t leave the car, we were in a dangerous block and far from home). I had my first and only oral sex experience with a boy. It disgusted me so I stopped after like three seconds, but he forced me to masturbate him, he phisically did pushing my hand on his d*ck. When he came, he also said I wasn’t good at it. He then offered to give back the favour, I refused and asked him to take me home. Two day later I texted him saying it was over. God, this was hard to write. My heart is pumping in my chest. I need some water.

By the way, I was eighteen then and I still hadn’t had sex yet, and I was the only one in my class and between my friends in general. About them, I lost them all along the way. They simply let me down, not repaying everything I did or gave to them in terms of affection, or treating me like shit when I came out, or just disappearing slowly. I have trust issues for this, it’s hard for me to open up to someone now, but I’m trying.

I found this boy at a party, at that point I felt nothing, I was just curious about sex. We started dating. I didn’t like him, I approached him just because I thought his ass looked good. Yeah, how romantic of me. But, as I said, I felt nothing. I didn’t care about him. He fell in love with me, even though I told him many rimes I didn’t love him. I felt nothing for him, or with him, even in bed. Sex was a delusion to me, and I treated him like shit. But still, he would stay. Poor guy.

During those years (yes, we spent four years together somehow), I finally realized I liked girls. Fate brought me to a convention, where I met the love of my life. I ended the relationship with the boy and started my new life with her.

She changed me, a lot. I was a mess when we met. I was rough, selfish, the bad girl I always wanted to be, unable to love, to have a healthy relationship, unable to find the strenght to be vulnerable. She was patient with that broken, confused me, and I’ll never thank her enough for this. I don’t deserve her. She always supports me and shows me how much she loves me everyday. I’m so grateful for her.

I learned to be humble, I learned to be vulnerable, selfless, a decent humang being. I learned to love. I learned to protect her, not (only) myself. I dismantled almost all of my walls. I don’t know if this one I’m tearing down right now is the last one. I do hope so. I’m so tired of those cold walls. Today, I don’t want all these swords and daggers. I don’t need them anymore.

I wish I was strong as Catra and Adora, strong enough to face myself and let myself be happy. Thank you, Noelle, really. I always believed in the power of stories, but I never thought an animated show could give me so much, that I could relate so much to someone (let alone the importance of their relationship on screen for the LGBTQ+ community, it’s a true revolution). I was attracted to Catra since the beginning, I completely fell in love with her during the fifth season, and now I understand the reasons behind it. I just feel her, deeply. And I also deeply admire Adora, her pure soul, her strenght, her bright heart.

Sorry for the long post, sorry if there are any mistakes, English is not my first language. Thank you again.