My Dark Vanessa by Kate Elizabeth Russell will leave you gasping for air and questioning everything you thought you knew about #MeToo.
WHO IS TO BLAME?
Is it the predator who grooms young girls with tactics that seem so obvious to an adult reader? Is it the media treating these stories as consumables for bloodthirsty voyeurs? Is it the parents? The school that failed a vulnerable student?
The second question is simpler, but no less loaded: Vanessa, why?
Why do you blame yourself? Why do you enable him? Why do you not see yourself as a victim? Why all the martyrdom, the suffering?
There is no perfect way to quantify abuse, to tell survivors how to heal or make sense of their trauma. For people expecting a neat Hollywood ending where Vanessa comes away completely healed, quits the dead-end job, tells her mother to fuck off, and finally lives up to the enormous potential she was robbed of: Sorry.
Because that’s not how these things work. There’s no cavalry, no last minute knight in shining armor there to rescue you (especially not Henry Plough). Survivors know that this burden is one they carry alone.
An astounding read that’s well worth the time investment.