by Hyapatia Lee
In Denmark, the prohibition against pornography was abolished in 1967. The reported incidents of sex crimes in Copenhagen for 1967 and 1970 are all follows:
Girls
Indecent Exposure Peeping Accosts on Accost on
Women
160 87
40 20
90 60
1967 163 1970 104
If I could do anything to stop another woman or child from becoming a victim, I would do it. I can’t understand why anyone would stand in the way of a decrease in the chances of their wife, girlfriend, mother, grandmother, daughter or self getting raped. Why are we so behind the times?
Perhaps Alfred C. Kinsey knew why. When The Kinsey Report first came out, theologians everywhere attacked it viciously. Spearheading the assault was Dr. Henry Van Dusen, President of the Union Theological Seminary. It prompted him to write an editorial called Christianity and Crisis and it blatantly bashed Kinsey. A special House Committee headed by B. Carroll Reece and known as the Reece Commission later investigated Kinsey. Funny how similar it sounds to the later Meese Commission on Pornography. Kinsey was even accused of being a Communist and trying to further the communist cause in this report.
According to the book ABNORMAL PSYCHOLOGY, The Problem of Maladaptive Behavior by Irwin G. Sarason and Barbara R. Sarason, the sense of power, anger and aggression is much more important than any sexual gratification. Men who reported a higher likelihood of raping a woman if they knew they would not be caught showed greater anger and aggression towards women.
In 1971, Dr. Menachim Amir published a book called Patterns of Forcible Rape, which shattered many prevailing myths. Dr. Amir did an extensive survey of 646 rape cases handled by the Philadelphia Police Department. He found that 71% of all rapes were thoroughly planned, 11% were partially planned. This shatters the myth that rape is committed on the spur of the moment, caused by wild passion generated by the movie or dancer one just saw. The rapists studied were generally found to have normal sexual personalities, differing from the well-adjusted male in only one way, they had an overwhelming tendency to express violence and rage. This supports the fact that rape is not a sexual crime but one of anger and hatred toward women.
The Meese Commission on Pornography took all the most violent and explicit footage they could find, most of it illegal, and watched every last frame. These people were not watching mainstream, adult entertainment. These were the infamous snuff films and other types of heavy sado-masochistic videos. After days upon days of viewing such filth, they decided these things were detrimental to society and would cause people to commit atrocities. If that is so, who is watching the members of the Meese Commission to be sure they are not committing these acts? Are we to believe that these people posses special powers that make them better that us? Most erotic entertainment does not depict rape and violence like we find in R-rated movies and the ones made for TV, so why do they think viewing such nonviolent erotica will contribute to sex crimes?
I saw myself as a sacrificial lamb to save future would-be victims.
It is often easier for a victim of incest or rape to feel the guilt society shoves on their weak shoulders. This way, we are in charge and control. You see, if we are deserving, then the world isn’t such an unfair place. As one woman said, “I’d rather be the slut that seduced my father than the worthless piece of shit he used.” It hurts less. If we have some shred of guilt, maybe we can avoid it happening again. If we know we are truly innocent, it can become too dangerous to live. All of our loved ones can get hurt and there is nothing anyone can do about it. And if I were already guilty, why shouldn’t I be sacrificed to help save others?
There is also another thought society turns it’s head to. What about the victim getting better? If we make sex and virginity so all-important that we lead a victim to believe she is “ruined for life” aren’t we doing her a disservice? Of course it is a very devastating event, but we must find a way to go on living. Our society needs to remove sex from the weapons list. Some very prestigious organizations that counsel rape and incest victims use X-rated movies in their therapy. If the viewer can turn the scene off at their leisure, get comfortable and at ease with human genitalia, and not view it as a weapon, they can start to heal. For most, this is the only safe way to begin to be at ease with the necessary and healthy side of the sexual psyche. When society as a whole banishes all forms of erotic art as being sinful, this puts an over-importance on sex. When this happens, rape is even more devastating. Getting your wallet stolen is traumatic too, but if society believes the wallet is sacred, only to be touched by one other, it is even more traumatic. Please do not misunderstand, rape is much much more devastating than simple robbery and always will be, but we could do better for our victims by taking some of the sacredness off of it. For example, a friend of mine who is a member of V.O.I.C.E.S. (Victims of Incest Can Emerge Survivors, P.O. Box 148309, Chicago, Ill 60614) was engaged to be married. She thought she should share her life experiences with her future husband, and so she confided in him how she was raped as a child. He broke off the engagement because he was raised to believe he should marry a virgin. This is the kind of attitude that re-victimizes. It is easy to see how one could decide it is their place to be exploited by men.
I did a peyote ceremony with some members of the Native American Church I had met a few years earlier at the Brotherhood Council meetings. This is a very sacred ceremony. The cactus does induce visions, but the purpose is not to get high or “trip” but to receive direct messages from Spirit. It is a sacred sacrament to make us one with the Great Spirit. I fasted all day and did prayers and ceremonies in preparation. At sunset, we went inside and drank the tea. My teacher says people not of pure intent get sick. I’ve also heard you will get sick if you don’t fast. I was very glad I didn’t get sick.
We sang songs and passed around the water drum and rattle. For a long time I felt like nothing was happening. I expected wild visions I couldn’t discern from reality. Slowly, over time, I began to feel an internal “presence”. I prayed. I asked for guidance. What should I do?
As we sang and I concentrated on my situation, I closed my eyes. I saw a beautiful woman in every direction. There was a gorgeous oriental woman in a bikini in front of me, to her left was a perfect blonde. A redhead was on her other side. Above her were black women, brunettes, strawberry blondes, Mexican, Hawaiian, and Scandinavian, all kinds of beautiful women. All were sexy. Their clothes barely covered their perfect bodies.
I kept asking for an answer to my question: What should I do? I didn’t think this vision had anything to do with it. These women just smiled and posed, they never said a word. I had hoped to hear answers to my questions or to be shown what I should do. This was just like finding the Playboy under my mom’s bed.
For most of the night it went on and on. I opened my eyes and tried to invite a different vision. Now I could see the sexy models everywhere I looked, even with my eyes wide open. I worried about what the others would think of me when I told them my vision in the morning. I began to look forward to it all being over, but it went on and on.
I decided I shouldn’t fight it, so I looked in their eyes. I could see them differently now, in a new light. Their eyes all said the same thing. They were happy and self-confident. They all enjoyed being sexy. It was fun for them. They all had exactly the same eyes. Their bone structure was the same. Their lips were the same. They were all me.
BUD
I was trying to convince John Cochran that this job of dancing was good for me. I was happy and making money like I could make nowhere else. Finally, all those dance classes were paying off. I did dance moves others couldn’t and I was proud. I wanted John to see my show. He did not think that was such a good idea. After lots of badgering, he finally gave in, but only if he could bring a few of his buddies and not stay long.
One of his best friends was a man named Bud. He had recently been divorced and John was trying to cheer him up and get his mind off of his ex-wife. Bud’s m
other and John used to run a marriage counseling clinic together, although they were both divorced. I later found out that John and Bud had been friends for many years and worked and played together quite a bit. Bud was the secretary/treasurer for a water softener company and spent most of his days delivering salt and checking out softener units and plumbing.
A week later, Bud came back to the bar by himself. I quickly recognized him and he bought me a drink. We talked the whole night while I worked and he seemed like a very sensitive guy. I knew John would kill him if he laid a finger on me. I even suspected John had told him about my past, so I trusted him enough to ask for a ride home.
At this point in my life, my grandmother usually dropped me off and picked me up with my dog. I wouldn’t go anywhere by myself. It was a wonder I could even operate in a work environment, as agoraphobic as I was.
Bud was a gentleman the whole fifteen minutes it took to get home. I was pleasantly surprised and never expected to see him again.
A few days later, the phone rang and it was Bud! How did he get my number? I hadn’t given it to him. Bud had access to the criss-cross directory for Indianapolis. This directory lists the phone numbers to every address. All he had to do was look up the address of where he had dropped me off that night. He asked me out and I very cautiously accepted.
I was sick with nerves the night he came to pick me up, but we had a good time and not only did he not attack me, he didn’t even want a good night kiss!
For three months he took me out, came with me to work and dropped me off safely at home without even holding hands. This was so strange to me that I talked to John about it. Was Bud gay? Did he just consider me “one of the guys”? Why didn’t he ever get romantic? By now, I was falling in love with him. I could talk to him and be myself and he still accepted me. I actually wanted him to kiss me, hold me, and perhaps even make love to me. Before I had met Bud, I was beginning to think I’d never feel that way about a man.
One night Bud picked me up after work and we went to his apartment for a few drinks. We sat and talked for a few hours and then he put his arm around me. I could feel my insides twitch with nervous anticipation, but nothing more happened. He took me home after a little while and still did not give me a kiss good night. Wow!
Now I knew I wasn’t just “one of the guys”, he respected me! I had never met a man like this. I only heard whispers of them in long forgotten fairy tales. How could it be that I was so lucky to have found one? He had me right there and could have taken advantage of me, and didn’t!
A few weeks later, he finally gave me that long awaited good night kiss and it was so special and magical that I thought of nothing else for days.
I continued to go with Bud back to his apartment after I got out of work at 3:00am. Bud went to work at 9:00am and that didn’t leave much time for sleeping. One night, we fell asleep on the couch. When we awoke before the alarm went off, he suggested we move into the bedroom. “This is it,” I thought, and prepared myself for what I had been both dying for and dreading.
But when we got in bed, he kissed me goodnight and turned to go to sleep! For several nights we slept together with absolutely no sexual contact until I couldn’t stand it anymore and one Saturday night, we made love.
He was so gentle and loving, it was the first time I could ever call fucking making love and mean it. He kept asking if hewas hurting me and although I swore up and down he wasn’t, Bud was too sensitive to be lied to. We spent the entire next day in bed and I loved it, even though I never actually came.
After lots of sexual therapy with Bud, most of it spent teaching myself how to masturbate; I was able to achieve actual orgasm with him. Bud had gotten to know Hyapatia but what about my bad days? There were times when Stacy came out. Bud was not very patient with her. He thought I would be much better off just letting Hyapatia take over 100% of the time and told John so. John was very much against this idea.
I felt like I finally had a friend, someone who understood. I have felt alone all my life. I never thought I would feel anything other than painfully different from everyone else. I thought I was too crazy to ever have a normal relationship. I had given up the possibility of ever being with a man physically. I had been repulsed by the thought. I thought it was obvious I would never be able to have a normal life or function in society, yet here was a man who treated me like a normal human. All other men treated me like my only function in life was to go to parties and have sex. I despised both activities. I felt the only other opinions others ever had of me were that I was dumb and crazy. I bought into that, but Bud did not.
One morning he came into the bedroom with shaving cream all over his face and asked me to marry him. Although I had always been told to be wary of a man on the rebound, I said “yes” instantly. I loved him madly and couldn’t let such a rare breed slip by.
We wrote our own ceremony and my grandmother made the all the bridesmaid’s dresses and together we made my veil and dress. Since my father never really raised me I decided to let my grandmother give me away. It was our first production and we were as happy as could be.
That night Bud and I went to a hotel that had a waterbed and X-rated movies on the TV. It was the first time I’d seen an adult movie. I watched a few minutes of some bad quality film with dirty people in it and quickly got bored. We proceeded to do our own rendition.
For a while I continued to dance at the Red Garter but it became more and more obvious that Bud considered my work to be a threat. Somehow he thought I liked turning guys on for an ulterior motive other than my ego. So I agreed to quit. Bud quit his job too, and got a better one with a finance company.
We moved in with a couple that he had known for many years and I had met during our time dating. Paul and Melodye were very friendly, easygoing people who had been married for several years. Since Bud’s office was in our house, the company and it’s owner, Stuart, were responsible for his business phone and part of the rent. We got another Siberian husky, a male this time, and enjoyed a simple home life. When I wasn’t dancing and there was no need for Hyapatia, she didn’t come out as often. I was not as happy though because there was no escape from my painful memories. Bud was not as happy either.
After six months, Stuart and his company moved suddenly to New Orleans. Since Bud and I did not want to relocate, he quit. Stuart, who was also the best man in our wedding, was never seen or heard from again, leaving us with a stack of bills totaling $17,000. Being a sub S corporation, we had no recourse legally to get our money back. Our bills also included Bud’s school loan, my car, his truck and the credit cards his ex-wife had charged up to the max before their divorce. How were we ever going to pay it all off?
I was doing some local acting and modeling through a talent agency in Indianapolis but there wasn’t much work. I did some commercials for Coachman Recreational vehicles, Noble Romans Pizza and Mello Yellow. I was even the poster girl for WSAI radio station in Cincinnati, Ohio. It sounded good, but was not nearly enough to pay the bills.
After much discussion, it was decided I would go back to dancing at the Red Garter. Hyapatia was anxious to take over and glad to be back in control. I was given a raise and made many friends. There was Midge Michaels, who I am still in contact with 16 years later. She did a very talented roller skating number. She also danced with a filled shot glass on her forehead, did acrobatics, and broke boards on stage with her karate. Her husband helped her and traveled everywhere withher. Many of the dancers had boyfriends or husbands who did this. I was starting to become interested in the idea of being a traveling feature. I thought I could make more money.
I was also getting very uncomfortable with the fact that I had a following. People were getting too close. They were starting to get to know me. Customers in the club were demanding more conversations with me, even wanting me to sit with them as I drank my diet Cokes. I was terrified to talk to people and look them in the eye. No one believed me when I told them I was 19 and couldn’t sit with them. I only felt safe w
hen the stage separated us. I wanted to spend all my time either there or alone. If we went on the road, I would never stay in a city more than a week or two and never have to form any relationships. No one would ever have to know about my multiple personalities. I knew I couldn’t stand much more of the pressure at the Red Garter. Bud did not want to get a job. He said there was nothing he could do that could make the kind of money I did. If we were to work together on the road, it would solve both problems, he reasoned. I didn’t see any other options and agreed.
Hyapatia also did not really want to be “just” a housewife. When I was home, I did not have Hyapatia to hide behind. I was aware and felt my pain and I didn’t feel powerful and in control like Hyapatia did on stage dancing. Bud encouraged me to let her take over since she was stronger and more fun to be around. If Bud had gotten a job and I had stayed at home, I would have felt like I was doing what my mother had done. I would have felt that it was only a matter of time before Bud started hitting me and abusing me, as that was the only example of marriage I had ever seen, other than the few weeks I stayed with my father and stepmother. The former naturally made a bigger impression. I refused to live like that. I did not want to be trapped in a situation where I had no money to get myself out because I had no job. Hyapatia preferred to be in a position of power. Being the major wage earner meant that I had control. Yes, it was Hyapatia’s job and he was helping her do it and most women went on the road by themselves and needed no help, but I did not feel safe anywhere in the world except on stage. I felt I needed him and to me it was a fair trade at the time.
When we first agreed to go on the road, we hooked up with an agent from Florida named Lee. Working at the Red Garter, I had seen many features come and go at the rate of one or two per week in that club alone. I asked around for as many different agents names as I could find and as many stories about those agents as I could stand to hear. The same few names kept coming up and all the information about them was pretty much the same. They were all unscrupulous and disorganized. It was truly a case of “the lesser of the evils”.