To the Assailants That Are Sorry

Where are the men that know what they did is horrible?

There’s something missing in the deluge of discussion about sexual assault.

We struggle with the defiant denying of wrongdoing. We boil over in rage at the dismissal of victims. We loathe the smug faces of men who swat away accusations from the air like the accusers are mere pests to be done away with. The justification of actions attributed to boys being boys.

I laid in bed last night trying to finally process the events of the last week in order to get to the point where I stop thinking about it. One thing kept coming to the surface:

There is one voice we don’t hear. I have scoured the internet trying to find it. I have come up empty. It’s better that it we don’t hear it but I know it’s out there.

It’s the voice of the men that have watched this circus and are hit by the realization that THEY are one of THEM.

They have committed sexual assault.

If there are millions of women who have been sexually assaulted, there are millions of men that did it. I can’t believe that every single one of them has lived their lives as horrible monsters of human beings.