foxinsnow's Diaryland Diary

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the bodies of the girls in the morgue

Okay it’s the next day and I’ve sorted out my thoughts more about the Carlie Bruccia case. I think the man who killed her was the result of our patriarchal culture teaching men to view young girls as objects of lust, you know, the whole Lolita thing. Usually it doesn’t manifest itself in such atrocity, but this time it did. Carlie, at the tender age of eleven, no longer exactly a child but not quite yet understanding what it means to be a woman (a least, that’s where I was at when I was eleven) was a victim. I hate to call her that, but I see her as being a a victim to his sickness that was perpetuated by patriarchy and male domination. I hate that man! And all he represents! And I feel for Carlie. Because, I was there! It could’ve happened to me, hell it still could! All women and children are in some sense Carlie Bruccia. Make no mistake: society creates its own monsters and victims. The best you can do if you’ve never given a thought to what violence against girls means is to start reading and listening. Get your hands on everything the singer Kathleen Hanna’s ever done (I especially recommend Real Fiction by her band the Fakes); read Reviving Ophelia and make it required reading for your daughter; visit www.rainn.org. Rape, abuse, and incest are everyone’s problem and if you’re not part of the solution, you’re contributing to the sickness. My parents never let me walk around alone at night and now I know why and thank them for it. (My Dad even once said, “DO YOU WANT ME TO SHOW YOU THE BODIES OF THE GIRLS IN THE MORGUE?”) Being part of the solution means simply caring and arming yourself and your loved ones with information, maybe being a little obsessed with it like I am. No, I haven’t been raped, but many of my friends have. And I normally don’t believe in the death penalty, but the way I’m feeling right now I would gladly pull the switch on that fucker who killed Carlie Bruccia myself. But, despite all my anger I am still feeling so powerless, like “What can I do? WHAT CAN I DO?” The only thing seems to be to talk to all my friends about it and write and hope someone hears me, hears all of us voiceless young women crying in the night alone, voiceless young girls like Carlie Bruccia. WE ARE ALL CARLIE BRUCCIA

8:36 p.m. - 2004-02-08

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