When you decide to stop waiting (for a prince, for vindication, for revenge), they will come for you. They came for Sarah. She was a badass, opening doors that others had attempted to seal shut, she screamed so loudly and so rightly that she couldn't be ignored. So they came for her. Every man who wanted their dirty little secrets to stay secret came for her business, they came for her family, they came for reputation. They tried to put her in her place, but it was too late. She had already lit herself on fire.
So, this whole sordid con scandal should have died an inglorious death months ago. Receipts were checked and compiled. But the thing is, it gets tricky when narrative gets involved. He feels he deserves a redemption, so even though it means going to court and ripping off one of my friends since high school, he's a white dude so obviously we all need to just give him what he feels entitled to.
Let's just say for second that he fell in with an Amy Dunne, okay? Like sociopathic, crazy, well organized bitch who is out to destroy him. We're feminists here, so we can allow that perhaps with enough time and motive, a lady-type may be inclined to destroy a dude because she's batshit psycho. But when you are trying to tell me that you have over a dozen Amy Dunnes going public because they are all bent on destroying you . . .well. You know who you sound like. You can only be so misunderstood.
If he had stayed dead like he were supposed to and gone into car sales perhaps or a motivational/rehab/apology tour like god intended for him, I wouldn't have anything more to say. There would be no point. But he refuses to stay dead.
So, you are familiar with My Tale of Ruin. Her husband left her! It was a complete surprise to her! She had no winter coat! She was on the verge of financial ruin! She had been brought so low!
You are familiar with My Tale of Redemption. But now she has a small house to call her own! A husband you are all very fond of! Benefits from a grown up job! A successful business of her own for over a decade! A book that has been published by Llewellyn and is in three different languages!
I gloss in places. At least now I do. If you knew me back in the (LiveJournal) day and were on certain filters, you knew the whole terrible tale that was promptly brought to Wasband. (He was my husband) Because there's always a mole. Always. Any time you write something like this, you may as well whisper it directly into their ears. You are lighting matches. You will be seen. You will be seen by people you never thought would see you. Write accordingly.
But there's something about turning forty. I don't know what it is. I've gone from careful, so very careful, always so very careful to lighting whole books of matches because I can. I don't really want to be lighting fires today, I'd rather be KonMari ing my house like every other civilized chick in my age bracket. But even that requires us to light up some matches because there is no peace for us as Sister Queens.
There is no peace as long as I am silent. There is no peace when I don't shove my shoulder against that wheel. Because when we are complacent, that's when these muthafucking vampires think it's okay to work on their redemption stories in our backyards. When our hearts are in our throats and our vomit is on our tongues and our palms are sweating while we answer the phones and take care of our children and try to go through our workdays.
So I am telling (a small) part of my story because we need to stop giving toxic dudebros never ending opportunities to redeem themselves. It's bad for everyone. For me in particular, every time this sad, gross tale gets another layer and I'm told about it, it brings me right back to that place - that place of being a powerless, penniless girl without a winter coat. And I start to feel cold fear in me again. Just. Over. And. Over. And. Over. It's dangerous af to create a culture where as long as you are super sorry and super misunderstood you keep getting infinite chances to break Sister Queens who happen to be standing within a blast radius of you. And let me tell you, Sister. We would not be given all of these "do-overs". We would not. We would be expected to find new dreams.
But no matter how far forward I come, no matter how awesome and amazing my life is, no matter what wonders I accomplish, I'm still sitting here over a decade later with my heart in my throat, panicking that they will keep rising up from the goddamn dead and have power over me, no matter how carefully I structure my life. Because they will keep trying and the minute they have an opening, they are going to walk through it.
Once, years ago, I was running what I didn't know was my last SalonCon. I was much younger and I didn't really have any other women as fellow con-heads to go to for support or mentorship or whatever. I was forging my own path with zero role models that I trusted. I thought having my Wasband as part of the board along with other people who were part of my trusted inner circle would keep me safe and that together we would keep working to figure it out somehow. This was true until our third and final year. I should have known something was up when my Wasband was suddenly involved in many email correspondences with JM. Someone who my Wasband had previously discussed loathing in great detail with myself and our inner circle. But, suddenly MTV and NYT was calling and I was still figuring out how to finance SalonCon along with the million other tiny details that running a con requires so I didn't pay as much attention as I should have. I really didn't pay as much attention as I should have when suddenly my Wasband was really interested in showing JM our vendors and to take him on tour of our con. Retrospectively, it seems pretty clear that they were planning on working on a future event together (which they did - the beginning of Steampunk World's Fair) built on my back. Which they did. The timing was good for JM as Wicked wasn't pulling in what it once did and this was a relatively new market that I had broken open. I was too financially broken by my divorce to proceed forward with SalonCon, conveniently now opening up a big gap in the Steampunk convention world, especially New Jersey. I didn't have the resources to go forward, but they did together - my knowledge base that my Wasband had learned from working on the board of my con and JM's resources. They let me quietly announce that the rest of the board was disbanding SalonCon and they stepped forward.
He had his chance. He took my chance. And now it's time for him to move on and find a new dream that doesn't involve the local convention scene and a laundry list of sins that we have brought forward from his business practices to sexual misconduct accusations. Stop giving him money. Stop giving him chances.