I’m not upset anymore, I’m angry.
Today I went to court, to see a man sentenced who told me that the only thing a woman’s mouth was good for was “having a hot load shot down” .
From the moment I turned up in court, that man, or in this case I should say boy, attempted to intimidate and belittle me. He stared me down at every opportunity, with a grin from ear to ear.
I sat in a court room, listening to the defence talk about how remorseful Zane was, all the while the image of him flipping the bird to the media at our last court date in my mind.
I sat in a court room, and I listened to a judge liken the sexually aggressive threats that were hurled at me to a football match.
I sat and I listened to how whilst the comments were ‘gross’ in nature, and offensive, it was merely a reaction to my ‘over reaction’.
Watch Paloma discuss the case before it went to court on The Project (post continues after video):
I sat there, and I listened to my judicial system tell me that my supporters were harassing my abuser, whilst his supporters showed he had ‘good character’.
I sat and I listened about how I started a war when I could have simply, turned off my computer.
Unfortunately for me, a 24 year old woman who deals with men belittling, sexualising, and attacking me every single day, there is no off switch.
I can’t take back the harm that was caused to me by the first man who abused me; I can’t take back the boys in high school who made me nothing less than ‘fuckable’ or ‘un-fuckable’; I can’t take back the years of body hatred that forced me to think about every single bit of food I ate, every piece of clothing I wore, and reminding me that every ounce of my physicality is up for judgement, ridicule, and harassment every single day.
Today I sat in court and I watched the very real understanding that because I am a woman, my reputation, my feelings and my worth are less.