For The Secrets and Untellable Stories

"The very ink with which history is written is merely fluid prejudice," (Mark Twain). 

"History is the version of past events that people have decided to agree upon," (Napoleon).

History is written by the winners, we have heard. However, sometimes it is written by the losers, and I mean that in the pejorative. Some history is never written at all, and that can be due to laws meant to protect the innocent from malicious and damaging accusations, but often insulates those with the most resources or leverage. Some stories are never told, as those involved would rather let them die a quiet death. Despite the romantic notions generally taught as fact to the young and still naive, justice can be illusive; the truth can be believable but not provable and thus rendered useless; and sometimes neither justice nor truth are worth the inevitable injury in the brawl. The universe is not always as clever as Hollywood, writing in that eleventh hour twist that saves the day.

• What was left out of one story I knew well was the adult workplace bullying going on at the time. She could have recorded the truth; she could have invited a confrontation with a company that could have easily bankrupted her with a lawsuit she might or might not have been able to win, but probably either way at the cost of working in an industry for which she had incredible talent. Helluva gamble.

• When I read Bill Cosby was suing more than a few of his accusers, I remembered a woman from long ago with whom I had spent many hours over many weeks, just listening without judgment. Her attacker had spent months quietly undermining her credibility before he raped her. He also had a golden reputation behind his, "No one will believe you," and he had much, much deeper pockets than she, he let her know, and he would sue her. It was his word against hers, and he had already made hers questionable. I would love to say that, in the end, she found a way to bring him down, but that would not be true.

• I would love to provide you with cautionary tales about toxic friends and family members and
  
  just how much damage they can inflict, describing the level of cruelty in great and true detail, but I don't care to summon the drama that type devours. I would love to name some human vultures who circled around the death of a loved one or two, but all I will say is that if you have some in your life, you better throw them out before they find you in vulnerable circumstances. 

• There is that other story about absolute, straight-up, flat-out sexual harassment that cost a woman her job. Not only could she offer no proof, but an absolute fluke of a last minute stroke of luck covered the boss's ass. Game over.

I don't get to tell people when to fight and when to walk away, and I don't think I would want to make that call for others, anyway. I advocate nothing but recognition of the truth, aaaaaand all the moms out there who said, "Life is not always fair," because they sure the fuck weren't kidding.