The View from a Drawbridge

Trigger warning: This post contains a boatload of election anxiety, along with stories of violence and rape. This is more of a personal anxiety purge than a pleasant read, so proceed at your own risk.

I’m writing this post 11 days before the U.S. presidential election. A lot could happen between now and the time you read this. I may revise this post, if necessary, as things unfold, but then again, I may not. I’m trying to use my life force wisely these days.

I’ve voted already. I’ve also ranted quite a bit, politically, on this blog. I doubt I’ve changed anyone’s mind, but I’ve done what I could. It’s out of my hands. In a way, that’s a huge relief.

But I’m still terrified. My gut is twisted like a pretzel with no untangling in sight. The stress has caused my Behcet’s Syndrome to flare up, so every joint in my body hurts. It’s the not knowing that scares me the most. After the election, depending on how it goes, I may have to endure 4 more years of acute anxiety, or I could feel a wave of relief. But that wave would be temporary, because then we’ll still have January 6, 2025 to get through. Voting shouldn’t be like this.

I’m tempted to say that the world isn’t what it once was, but several things have been piling up in my anxiety closet, and the item that was added last night was the last straw. Since I truly believe that a problem shared is a problem halved, I’m going to pull these anxieties off the closet shelf and present them to you one by one, in no particular order. Sorry. I won’t blame you if you don’t read beyond this point.

• I have a Dutch friend who told me, years ago, that whenever she met a German of a certain generation, a chill would run through her. She would wonder what role the man played in Nazi Germany. I think that was a legitimate concern. Hitler was not the only bad actor in WWII. It takes a village, as the saying goes. Fortunately, the vast majority of those bad actors have since died out, but they got to walk free all those years, and probably delivered mail, made coffee, and perhaps joined the police force. They seemed like good guys. But what did they teach their children?
• I also sometimes look at all the seemingly respectable men around me and wonder what they did when they were young. Vandals and petty criminals get older just like the rest of us. And then they become one of us. Sort of.
• I once spent an entire graveyard shift, sitting in a room smaller than the average walk-in closet, knee to knee with a mechanic that I barely knew. (I open drawbridges for a living, and that particular bridge had been acting up quite a bit, to the extent that a mechanic had to be immediately on hand for any openings that day.) We talked our way through the entire shift, and he seemed like a good guy. Then, around hour six, he started talking about how he trained his Pitbull for dogfighting events by letting him tear apart small dogs. He told that story with such enthusiasm. I have never wanted to run away so badly in my life.
• And then there’s Danny Masterson, from That 70’s Show. He was convicted of two counts of rape. Rumor has it that there were many, many more incidents where he drugged and raped women, but these two were the easiest to prove. Since he is a member of the cult of Scientology, they were more than happy to help him cover up these crimes for years. When he raped Scientologists, the cult administration would urge (a.k.a threaten) the victims to keep their mouths shut. The only silver lining in this horrible story is that Masterson is in prison now for 30 years. Rapists do not thrive in prisons. Before sentencing, the judge received quite a few letters from Masterson’s friends, urging leniency, because he was a good friend, a trusted colleague, a decent man. Tell that to the women he raped. Either he hid his rotten core very well, or those letter writers are just as bad as he is.
• Have you heard the tragic story of Gisele Pelicot? For nearly a decade, in the tiny town of Mazan, France, population 6,000, at least 72 men were invited into her home by her husband. They were there to rape her while she lay drugged and unconscious. 51 of these men have been identified and accused. Only 18 of them are currently in custody. That means at least 54 of her rapists are walking free for now. Many of these men are claiming that they didn’t know that Ms. Pelicot was unconscious. (Seriously?) Most of them have no prior criminal record. According to this article, these men were between the ages of 26 and 74, and they were “firefighters, journalists, students, truck drivers, prison guards, nurses, pensioners, and municipal councilors.” They are also husbands, fathers, brothers and friends. They walk among us. There’s no warning sign floating above them. They’re just despicable, horrible, shameless men who were presented with an opportunity and took it. And her husband filmed every rape, so these rapists will have a hard time defending themselves, as well they should. I’ve got to say that I admire Ms. Pelicot’s decision to make the trials public. There is that.
• And just this morning, I listened to an episode of the “Embeded” podcast, entitled “A Good Guy.” It’s about Sgt. Joshua Abate, a marine who “happened to wander” into the capitol building on the day of the insurrection. He says he heard no shouting and saw nothing but peaceful protests. He claims that the only evidence the FBI has against him was that he was “walking around.” Well, the videos say otherwise. They show him standing in front of the mayhem, helping to rile up the crowd by shouting “Stop the steal!” They also show him putting a MAGA hat on a statue of Martin Luther King Jr. In part two of the podcast, he is judged fit to remain a Marine by people who think January 6th was “not that big of a deal.” This is a Marine who has pledged to uphold our constitution, not only participating in the attempted overthrow of a legally elected president, but also supporting and encouraging racism. And yet everybody says he’s a good guy. A good guy, getting paid by the taxpayers to protect and defend us against all enemies, foreign and domestic. Semper effing Fi. In the end, fortunately, his general did not agree with the hearing’s results and kicked him out.
• But the story that was the very last straw for me was something I heard on a BBC news broadcast the other night on my drive home. It described something so abhorrent that I won’t even subject you to it. The dark web is a disgusting place. The story makes me cry every time I think about it, and it probably will for the rest of my life. It involves numerous men who probably go to work every day, acting all normal, and they have a beer with their buddies afterward. Good guys. Good guys who actively participated, again and again, in the most horrible thing I’ve ever heard in my life. I mean, think of the most awful thing you’ve ever been told, multiply it by 500, and you might come close to understanding what is now going to hold a permanent place in my psyche. It has changed me. I’ll never be the same. And I can’t share it with anyone, because I would never want to subject someone I care about to such a change.

All of these stories have a common theme. Men who seem like nice guys, just ordinary folks that you pass on the street; the butcher, the baker, the candlestick maker, the guy in the office across the hall from you who occasionally brings in doughnuts for everyone, the neighbor who once came to your rescue when your car’s battery was dead. These are guys that people are willing to vouch for; they’re guys you wouldn’t hesitate to hire. But lurking beneath the surface are men who have done unacceptable, horrible, vile things.

I no longer hold the belief that the world is not what it once was. I now think humans in general have always been capable of despicable acts, and, given our power, those who walk among us who do not choose to resist that urge can cause immeasurable harm. Human beings should not be considered superior to any other predators in the animal kingdom. We can be every bit as cunning, unpredictable, violent and self-centered. It’s just that the vilest among us are now being given societal permission to show their true selves. When you combine that with the fact that our culture is becoming increasingly self-serving and therefore is bringing out the worst in us, is it any wonder that we’re finding it harder and harder to simply take these seemingly good guys at face value, although we wish we could?

The most feral parts of humanity are coming out in the sunlight. We’re delving deeper into people’s characters. We’re sharing information. We’re comparing notes.

As long as that kind evil is out there, walking amongst us, there is reason to be terrified. And there are, no doubt, vile things happening even as we speak that we have yet to uncover. Those who are suffering in real time are justified in believing that no one will ever come to help. Ever. That has been their experience. And that’s going to remain the reality for more of them than we care to think about.

I don’t know what to do with that. I really don’t. I sure could use a hug.

I wish this post had a happy, uplifting conclusion, but I’m fresh out. At the very least, I hope you voted, Dear Reader. Please tell me you voted.

And now, word has it that they won’t be able to definitively say who won the election before we all go to bed tomorrow. I’m pretty sure I’ll be sick. I’m positive I’m losing my mind. Time to go look at videos of baby goats.