Dorothy Allison

I didn't daydream about fire anymore. Now I imagine people watching while Daddy Glenn beat me, though only when it was not happening. When he beat me, I screamed and kicked and cried like the baby I was. But sometimes, when I was safe and alone, I would imagine the ones who watched. Someone had to watch. Some girl I admired who barely knew I existed. Some girl from church or down the street.

I didn't daydream about fire anymore. Now I imagine people watching while Daddy Glenn beat me, though only when it was not happening. When he beat me, I screamed and kicked and cried like the baby I was. But sometimes, when I was safe and alone, I would imagine the ones who watched. Someone had to watch. Some girl I admired who barely knew I existed. Some girl from church or down the street.

I didn't daydream about fire anymore. Now I imagine people watching while Daddy Glenn beat me, though only when it was not happening. When he beat me, I screamed and kicked and cried like the baby I was. But sometimes, when I was safe and alone, I would imagine the ones who watched. Someone had to watch. Some girl I admired who barely knew I existed. Some girl from church or down the street.

Or one of my cousins. Or even somebody I'd seen on TV. Sometimes a whole gang of them would have to be trapped into watching. They couldn't help me. They couldn't get away. They had to watch. In my imagination, I was proud and defiant. I'd stare back at him with my teeth set, making no sound at all, no shameful scream, no begging. And those people who watched admired me and hated him.

Or one of my cousins. Or even somebody I'd seen on TV. Sometimes a whole gang of them would have to be trapped into watching. They couldn't help me. They couldn't get away. They had to watch. In my imagination, I was proud and defiant. I'd stare back at him with my teeth set, making no sound at all, no shameful scream, no begging. And those people who watched admired me and hated him.

Or one of my cousins. Or even somebody I'd seen on TV. Sometimes a whole gang of them would have to be trapped into watching. They couldn't help me. They couldn't get away. They had to watch. In my imagination, I was proud and defiant. I'd stare back at him with my teeth set, making no sound at all, no shameful scream, no begging. And those people who watched admired me and hated him.

I pictured it that way. and I put my hands between my legs. It was scary, but it was thrilling, too. Those who watched me loved me. It was as if I was being beaten for them, and I was wonderful in their eyes.

I pictured it that way. and I put my hands between my legs. It was scary, but it was thrilling, too. Those who watched me loved me. It was as if I was being beaten for them, and I was wonderful in their eyes.

I pictured it that way. and I put my hands between my legs. It was scary, but it was thrilling, too. Those who watched me loved me. It was as if I was being beaten for them, and I was wonderful in their eyes.

It's curious because it's what I did as a child, and I've talked to other survivors, and it's one of the ways in which you can fight the feeling of being this contemptible being. Because basically, when you're subjected to that kind of abuse as a child, you almost always begin to feel that it's justified.

It's curious because it's what I did as a child, and I've talked to other survivors, and it's one of the ways in which you can fight the feeling of being this contemptible being. Because basically, when you're subjected to that kind of abuse as a child, you almost always begin to feel that it's justified.

It's curious because it's what I did as a child, and I've talked to other survivors, and it's one of the ways in which you can fight the feeling of being this contemptible being. Because basically, when you're subjected to that kind of abuse as a child, you almost always begin to feel that it's justified.

that there is really something wrong with you, that you're this terrible person that this is happening to. And the only way I ever found, really, to deal with the emotional onslaught of those feelings was to begin to feel like a martyr, this almost Joan of Arc figure in my own mind.

that there is really something wrong with you, that you're this terrible person that this is happening to. And the only way I ever found, really, to deal with the emotional onslaught of those feelings was to begin to feel like a martyr, this almost Joan of Arc figure in my own mind.

that there is really something wrong with you, that you're this terrible person that this is happening to. And the only way I ever found, really, to deal with the emotional onslaught of those feelings was to begin to feel like a martyr, this almost Joan of Arc figure in my own mind.

Oh, yes. And it's hard to explain to people on the outside of the experience, mostly because it's really hard to admit that. that you could take that experience and convert it into your own erotic charge. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to analyze it. I simply know that it happens and it becomes a way to make it your own experience.

Oh, yes. And it's hard to explain to people on the outside of the experience, mostly because it's really hard to admit that. that you could take that experience and convert it into your own erotic charge. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to analyze it. I simply know that it happens and it becomes a way to make it your own experience.

Oh, yes. And it's hard to explain to people on the outside of the experience, mostly because it's really hard to admit that. that you could take that experience and convert it into your own erotic charge. I don't know how to explain it. I don't know how to analyze it. I simply know that it happens and it becomes a way to make it your own experience.

Absolutely. It's like the myth of rape, you know. Obviously, if you orgasm during rape, then it must not have been rape. So if a child begins to feel erotic excitement while being manipulated by an adult, does that give the adult permission to do it? It's a horrible thing to even imagine.

Absolutely. It's like the myth of rape, you know. Obviously, if you orgasm during rape, then it must not have been rape. So if a child begins to feel erotic excitement while being manipulated by an adult, does that give the adult permission to do it? It's a horrible thing to even imagine.