The insidious nature of rape culture.

This video will enrage. It will anger. It will incite Hulk Smash to release the feels because all those in power within that courtroom are fucking pieces of shit. Judge included. Thank you judge, for turning a blind eye and supporting rape culture.
My rant/story/vent:

The year I started caregiving for my grandmother, a cousin of mine was stationed overseas while serving in the Army. I was never close to this cousin as a kid.  Christmas time rolls around and he’s stateside for R&R. 

Christmas day, he arrives with my aunt and uncle. While in the garage, he let me know “we aren’t really related” as if I wasn’t already aware that my uncle adopted my cousin and his brother when he married my aunt.
So, there was that awkward moment of when my cousin informed me that I’m game to be hit on.
Then there was the much more awkward moment of my mom and I sitting at the table, and on the pretense of walking by and noticing my shirt’s tag was hanging out, he fucking stuck his hand down my back, between my bra and my skin. And left it there. He did not remove it when I told him to. I had to fucking elbow him in the junk for him to get his fucking hand out of my fucking shirt. 
I hate being touched when I don’t invite it. I like to keep people I’m not comfortable around out of my little bubble of space. He invaded my space and invited attack. So he went to go hang out with people who enjoy his presence, like those of the Male sex.
Here’s the fucking clincher. After a while, he came back and teasingly put me in a head lock. I got pissed, because again, another invasion of my space. He brushed it off, brushed off my anger and proceeded to tell me if he really wanted to choke me, he would have wrapped his hands around my neck, and proceeded to show me with a quick demonstration of technique which was not invited. He didn’t hurt me, but he was trying to show that he could overpower me if he so choose.
And I believe it. The man got kicked out of the Marines. Medical discharge for the Air Force. Now he’s in the Army… that’s three different bootcamps on survival and killing he’s gone through. That is not a comforting thought for someone who doesn’t miss those kinds of details.
When we went home, my mom said that he has always been creepy, and now he’s gotten creepier. And although I truly have mixed feelings about the subject, I couldn’t wait for him to get his ass shipped back overseas and into a war zone.
A year later, my oldest cousin died. Cirrhosis of the liver is a horrible way to go. Since he and his family lived out of state, my auntie hosted a Celebration of Life in our home town. My creepy cousin was on R&R again. And still fucking creepy. When I was alone, he sidled up to me and put his head on my shoulder to murmer, “I love you, Cuz” which is now the most skin-crawling thing I can think of at the moment. It was that goddamn tone he used. Fucking greasy in a non-bacon way. Blech.
He spent a good part of my cousin’s memorial to offer me his wife’s clove cigarettes (I love cloves but quit. I was smoking a cigar, hoping the stink would keep people (him) away. Didn’t work. Instead it was a constant, “Want them? I’ll go grab them for you. You sure?” for at least three hours. 
I mean, really.
No one ever should have to cope with a creeper, especially one that is considered family. But you know what? As he so eloquently told me that Christmas day, he and I aren’t really related. Huzzah, I’m not really related to the creeper! 
And since I had a chip on my shoulder the size of a sleezy creeper, I reported him to his station in the midwest.
He’s no longer in the Army. I won’t say I got him kicked out, but at least now he’s not being inflicted on women overseas.
Creeper is back in the midwest, trying to work things out with his wife. I hope that any women he’s preyed upon will report him. 
Start a paper trail if you’re ever accosted. I hate saying that, meaning one would have to get accosted, but it’s a sad fact of modern times; people in power will abuse it.
Especially creepers looking to get their jollies.

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