Broken Merchandise

By Abigail George

CW: sexual assault, depression, rape

This poem arose out of a frustration with the simplication of the realities of sexual assault victims. Despite the progress being made, I still feel that we are given very little afterthought, disposed of. Elaborate courtroom cases draw attention to the punishment of assailants and the severity of their crimes. In this process meant to bring closure, victims are commodified: simplified to a physical being who was wrongfully acted upon, now damaged. Punishment applies to the specific action, but it does not to the action’s implications. Victims are left alone to come to terms with their permanently altered state of mind, no longer relevant to the public. And that is assuming victims have the capability to even take their assailant to court, an incredibly grueling and often undermining process. While it has been years since my rape, the trauma I carry as a result is something that impacts my day-to-day life. I have not known the same peace of mind since I was deemed old enough for the male gaze, made victim to its perverted desires. I wanted, needed to force readers to see into a tiny glimpse of my mind. I refuse to have my story packaged up into a neat little box, and this poem is reflective of that.

This poem depicts the violent, intrusive thoughts that I experienced throughout my first relationship, and how they led to my first sexual experiences of assault, rape, and manipulation. I formatted this poem after the mental spirals I have often found myself in, streams of consciousness where one thought tumbles into the next until I’ve come to a conclusion that feels impossible to bear. The two columns convey the feeling of distress, as the words are scattered within the rigidity of the rectangles and made to occupy all its space. This distress is further echoed by the columns’ call-and-response, an exchange between the things happening to the speaker and the speaker’s internal dialogue. There’s a desire to make sense of all the turmoil, which arrives overwhelmingly in the final stanza when the speaker acknowledges the impact this relationship has had on her. Everything morphs together to create an incomprehensible beast that will forever impact her ability to love another. The speaker panics as she descends into depression.

I intentionally wanted to make the poem difficult to read. Between the inconsistent gapping of words to the sudden lack of space, I wanted to ensure that the reader doesn’t have the privilege of glossing over my words. Only when they take the time to pick out my words will they realize that I haven’t been elusive with my language. Rather, I’m telling my story on my terms. My story is messy, and I refuse to compromise its turbulence to make it more palatable.

Abigail George 23 (ag11); the shattering of a fractured girl seeking repair. From the December 2021 issue.