I haven’t had too much positive feedback from my latest argument that mob justice in media, community action or people using their positions to promote their opinions becomes problematic for more vulnerable members of society.

Some people seem to think I’m some kind of misogynist. My blog is closer to being a misandry march but who has the time for that. I have even had people make assumptions about my experiences and understanding regarding what these women may have experienced. In my world sexual abuse doesn’t have anything to do with being a man or a woman.

I could call myself a victim of sexual abuse but that is not how I perceive myself nor do I wish to make my experience into something beyond what it was and is.

The man involved in my experience was a practicing physician at Ontario Correctional Institute. At this point no one knows everything that happened except him and me. I shared some of it once but I was not whisked away to the courts.

Being a prisoner of the Province of Ontario I really didn’t know what to do. It was during a portion of the admitting process. I had just been transferred to Ontario Correctional Institute and I was totally unfamiliar with the institution, its employees and my fellow inmates. My knowledge of the correctional system at the time was limited and if there was a safe or independent avenue to report the occurrence it was not openly expressed to me in any way.

I could have written a letter to my mother but all outgoing correspondence was read by jail censors. I could have written a letter to the Ombudsman but I did not know who to ask about Ombudsman confidentiality. I could have called my lawyer but she charged me about $75.00 for that service and I was in every respect penniless. I could have called any service of the province if I had access to that information. The only phone I had access to was in a public space and within ten feet of the guards station.

I’m not sure why an inmate would require anything near a physical with no outward symptoms or complaints. I know my rights today and I would likely attempt to decline such services in a rather boisterous way but I am also familiar with the correctional system and such requests often end up quelled.

I would have yelled rape but I wasn’t 100% confident that the guards I assumed to be somewhere near would have grabbed the right asshole. It might have just been the one doctor but it might just have been his turn. I discerned that it was best not to involve his friends. This doctor is probably dead now and I don’t hold a grudge. He might be in hell having a perpetual prostate exam but that has never been my prayer. The Spirit I believe in forgives all transgressions and transgressors. I don’t know much of the Bible so I use a few words I was taught as a child. Forgive me my trespasses and forgive the trespasses of others.

We often assume we have people figured out but it takes a lifetime to figure yourself out. Go figure.