The face of violence and how to change it.






                    Silent…. no more

On the weekend of thanksgiving in Rhodes, Greece; a 21 year old woman  was raped, brutally beaten with an iron, and while still alive; thrown over a cliff to her death. This is not some medieval murder story, this is the reality of 2018. The gruesome events have been spread through every news cycle, and reported often and loudly enough to finally start raising alarm bells, but what transpired is a story repeated all too often, and only recently is it gaining an audience inside and outside the country.

How can social media guide and help change the narrative and prevent sexual violence against women?

This could have taken place in any part of the world: Two young men (ages 19 & 21) and a young woman get together on what would have been like any other Saturday night. Text messages are exchanged, flirtation occurs, and a typical fun Saturday night; turns gruesome, violent and deadly, in a matter of hours. This could have been anywhere in the world, only this happened on a very touristy and popular island in southern Greece. 

Social media has been over saturated with these stories, public outcry is at an all time high,  yet it quickly morphs into, judge, jury and executioner of both the culprits and the victim. What is truly troubling is that social media have increasingly and far more often been the bullhorn of victim blaming and shaming. No matter how gruesome the crime, against the victim, “she should have known better” seems to be the main line of defense. Violence towards women in Greece is not new. Assault of young women and harassment of women in public is something that happens every day. The only thing that is slowly changing and ironically with the help of social media, is the a glaring and raw spotlight on Greek society’s disregard of young women, and their absolute and unequivocal right to refuse unwanted sexual advances. Yet there is still a pervasive view that women owe sex to men who hit on them.  

Newspapers and investigative reporters are increasingly revealing news about the assault, rape and murder of young women (as young as 13 or 14 years old) from rich powerful men in the United States; to working class students in Greece, and this trend isn’t showing any signs of stopping. We are hearing more stories coming out, far more investigations are actually occurring rather than being swept under the rug, but to what end?

The changing face of gender norms in society

What Is Happening to our moral, societal, gender norms? Why are women still being attacked? Why are gay and transgender men still being attacked?  The structure of society is being questioned. How gender norms are set are finally being questioned, especially in a very patriarchal, machismo society like the one expressed in Greek households. Are parents called upon to show up? Are they taking some responsibility for the actions of their children? Now more than ever, it has become a never ending earthquake with aftershocks in the collective consciousness.

We are called upon to ask the difficult questions and especially through social media, online forums and through the voices of other victims. Now more then ever, we question how men and women are treated by society; but much more importantly how they treat each other.What  seems to be the rotting root in an already unstable tree, is the silence of bystanders, the indifference and cruel criticism in social and traditional media, and above all, the indifference of society as a whole in making fundamental changes to reporting, protecting and preventing these crimes from happening. 

And after all the chaos, the reports, the damning statistics, what remains? Is this just another of the multitude of stories just like this one coming out of post crisis Greece? The increase of violence against anyone who is vulnerable, this separation of the “good families” from the bad? And after all the shock, the outrage, and the trials, how can social media be a source of change and building awareness ?

Taking information into our own hands seems to be the only way to educate young men and women, and more importantly protect them. Websites are being created to help young men and women who may be dealing with subjects; ironically too embarrassing to discuss openly with their parents or even their friends. Forums run by, written by and published by women have become much more popular, but what unfortunately is much harder to change and will take far longer to calibrate; is the mindset of society as a whole. 

For the future I hope more young women and men, find the strength and support they need to be more vocal about the discrimination and harassment they might be receiving on a daily basis; but to come forward and talk about their experiences in a much more public way, resisting the shaming and silence they may have received from their families in the past. 


Random Thoughts Vol. 2- Plastic Surgery

I often… (every day) come across random thoughts and discussions as possible topics for sharing on this platform. They range from the mundane and truly trivial, to the BIG life questions… So instead of keeping them to myself, I am creating a series and sharing them with a wider audience.

This morning,  I was battling with yet another day of crappy MTA subway service, and while running late for work, I caught my reflection in the subway doors, and pondered if I would ever try Botox. Yes that bacterial toxin that thousands of women (and men?) across the globe use as regularly as a deluxe pedicure to “erase” signs of aging. A few hours later, I was asked this very question by a yoga friend in Greece.

Have you tried or would ever try Botox or other non invasive plastic surgery?

No I haven’t. (yet)

Despite my very strong feelings against plastic surgery; I get why women (and some men)  give in, and pluck, tuck, pull, fill, remove and add stuff to their bodies. I find that any kind of massive change and manipulation of what’s been given to us by nature; (let me make clear that I’m only talking about elective procedures) is quite destructive, emotionally and physically in the long run. (not to mention expensive), however I can’t judge a woman who wants to “remove” a few visible signs of aging that might be a damper to her confidence. 

I would however give it a try.

I find the possibility of trying something like this, brings up a mixture of skepticism and distrust in this massive industry fully dedicated to making us (women) feel old. Yet… I find that I am curious. Mind you I’m not fanatical or obsessed with the idea of trying Botox or any plastic surgery. The closest I’ve come to anything resembling a aesthetic procedure is a glycolic peel. If pressed to make a choice between minor plastic surgery procedures and something more enriching for my health and well being, I would pick the latter. I’ve practiced yoga for 20 years, have made peace with most of my flaws (and there are many) and I truly  don’t mind my “fine lines”. This however has not stopped me from looking in the mirror from time to time and wondering if my face is “aging” me. 

Is it better to never start, and let the body age gracefully?

Aging gracefully at our day is ironically considered a choice. The scrutiny and the critical eye most women endure to their ever changing looks does not escape me; I’m not “above it all”. I still refuse to let my grey hair show or my body go, but I am slightly shocked, and not at all surprised that many (too many) women in Greece, start “minor” procedures like Botox from their early 30’s and an increasing number in their late 20’s. Greece is not a wealthy country like the U.S, yet women of ALL financial means put whatever money they can afford to a myriad of beauty treatments. After the mid 90’s “beauty centers” kept popping up like mushrooms in Athens and other major cities,  and now plastic surgery in all its forms is all too common.  

Do I know women who have had elective plastic surgery?

Yes I do. Each one chose for their own reasons, and in all honesty the results were spectacular. What was more apparent than the physical results, was a noticeable improvement in self confidence. In the grand scheme of things, these types of procedures are not as important as our overall health, but if a small change however trivial; makes such a big difference, more power to you ladies (and gents) for doing something to boost your looks, and confidence. My only concern again has to do with the overall psychological and emotional impact of elective plastic surgery. Like any kind of body modification, it can be addictive, (I have 4 tattoos on my body and plan to get more)  so entering this world If I ever do, I want to do it for the right reasons. 

Till then… a little extra night cream.

If you want to read more of my previous posts check below :

Follow, Forward, Discuss, Share your story!

New York- Strange Broad

Adamfu for the Wellington Court Mural Project in LIC Queens (@adamfu)

New York City- a place of legends, movies, folklore, music and art. A place for everyone and a place for those who feel out of place everywhere else. I have now lived, loved and called New York my home for six years. On November 30th 2012, I landed with a return ticket I never used, in hopes of whatever this place had to offer all others, it would offer to me.

I soon discovered that only when you’ve REALLY lived here, ( as a non native ) can you start to fathom what this city has to offer. She’s a strange broad. Unforgiving and loving at the same time. She slowly reveals her secrets and isn’t shy about telling you to “fuck off” if you get in her way. She’s brash and cruel and all for the taking… but don’t mistake her for an easy chick. 

She is a mysterious woman, not pretty, but not ugly either… She’s what the French call Jolie laide, a smart cookie who will take you places if you let her. It has taken me a very long time to understand her, (I’m still trying ). I don’t proclaim to know her… yet, but I’m starting to comprehend her ways, her whims her desires and her quirks… She’s no slouch and she reminds me of my American grandmother.

Pauline Councilman Jackson was a Single mother of two. She raised her two children (my mother Christine and my uncle Norman) on her own. She married and divorced twice, sent both her ex husbands packing. With no man in sight and with a lot of love from her community, she raised two AMAZING people. In New York I realized what determination meant. If you embrace her, truly she will give you the gifts she reserves for those who really “seize the day”. 


She is a mysterious woman, not pretty but not ugly either… a smart cookie who will take you places if you let her.

New York has become my muse. She has made me love my county more. Despite my utter distain for the politicians who have ruined Greece, forcing so many of my countrymen -and women scattered around the globe ( AGAIN). New York helped me find my voice to express my anger, my love, my disappointment, my passions, and my desires. Her erratic ways, her utter chaos, and her undeniable intensity, has fueled the artistry that lay dormant in me for quite some time.

She’s like a bubbling volcano. There are moments when this city can drive you mad. She’s relentless, driven, tireless, erratic, schizophrenic, bipolar and quite possibly insane.

BUT… she demands all of you, she will bring out all that you have, and sometimes (always) pushes you to your limits. She will drive you mad if you let her, but what she won’t do is let you be mediocre, or second rate. She demands perfection, and slaps you in the face if you’re not paying attention. 

She’s a greedy and needy, she’s filthy and nasty and kinky and raw. She’s never quiet, except for those chosen hours in the early morning, but even then; she has movement and shape and rhythm if you listen. She drives me nuts, but I have grown to love her despite her many flaws, and shortcomings. 

Cheers New York Fucking City. Six years, and you still draw magic on the walls. 


She demands of you, all that you have and sometimes (always) pushes you to your limits.

The Pictures bellow are but a small fraction of what and who captures my attention in the city this is just a small teaser… Feel free to check all the images on my instagram @thegreekrabbit.

Thanks for reading.

The courage to live life

Street art in Athens, Greece

we live in this endless dystopia… we’ve been groomed again and again to endure crisis after crisis after crisis and with that; have forgotten the joy of life.

We live in strife

And we never pause to enjoy life

It’s little hidden beauties it’s endless flirtation it’s burning desire.

Το μεδούλι we say.

we let others dictate… our inspiration our connections our determination. Yet after all that, we find courage to live life, fall in love, write beautiful music, build incredible buildings, carve beautiful statues, build incredible grand ships that take us from sea to sea, and discover our limits anew each time becoming better versions of ourselves.

we delve deep into beauty and reap the benefits of true joy.

Each boy and girl each female and male becoming, growing, revealing their most true selves.

It’s no mystery we are all made of stars….

Yet we bicker and fight and cause strife. Spending lifetimes hating each other.

Demeaning each other

what a waste….

To not want to taste life’s bounties.

To not want to share in its boundless beauty.

Our curiosity for self destruction is a unique human trait, but so is survival.

And faith.

No not religious kind, but true faith, in ourselves in each other. No no we’re not the only ones but were unique, no we’re not one of a kind but we have been given infinite possibilities…

To be

Unbound

Unencumbered

Unleashed

Released

Free

without fear of reciprocity…

We’ve suffered enough atrocities

So next time you’ve let your spirit fade

talk

scream

dream

run till you can’t breathe.

Find joy in the simplicity of life.

Mesmerize

 
 
I am mesmerized….
 
The moment when our eyes meet mine..
seeing
that sublime snippet of time in me.
I’ts unattainable in a lab setting
You can’t repeat this shit
It’s one of a kind.
A rare find.
that sublime snippet of time.
with me…
 
Keep in mind I’m not an expert in explosions
I just walked passed my life
avoiding mines.
Each time I gaze upon your face, your embrace your lips locking on mine,
It stops time.
 
Good and Bad intertwined.
Your voice resonates on my skin like aftershocks after an earthquake
It’s a lot to take
in.
I don’t even know you and you make me feel like a queen.
 
I’m not good with roles.
This delicious assent to power from a delicate flower.
From a “nice girl” into a dirty mind one of a kind..
I’ll do anything for…you
You will adore me kind of girl
Let it all unfurl develop, envelop, uncurl girl … from this protective bubble of  life.
 
Where it’s all safe and put together
Let it fall apart and rebuilt once more…
In this brief snippet of time.
 
We are mesmerized.

Photo by Robert Valenzuela

Athens- Heroic City

img_2151

My sister my mother, my friend.

She’s a wife not a girlfriend.

She a heroine…

She’s my heroin.

She’s my muse

Don’t confuse my love for her it’s unending.

Bending all the rules for her

She’s my soul sister.

She’s my soul forever more.

and despite her plight, shes mighty and strong.

 

She will overcome.

 

I walked through your streets

Like a little girl, reborn.

My heart is worn, for my love for you 

Because you’re alone in the battle of existence.

Lost in pretense.

You’re not a whore. 

 

Your suitors, full of tenacity 

pursued you over and over again,

Leaving you wanting for so much more.

But who’s giving a fuck about you now?

 

Your lowered tired brow. 

That somehow, still shines through these dark times.

I take a bow to you oh wise Athena.

You are divine, despite your hardships.

You will survive and shine.

Oh sweet city of mine. 

 

 

 

Αθήνα Ηρωίδα – Athens is a Heroine

Η Αθήνα είναι σύζυγος όχι γκόμενα…

Έχει ταλαιπωρηθεί λίγο τα τελευταία 8 χρόνια. Έχει υποστεί τραύματα που δύσκολα επουλώνονται, αλλά ακόμα παλεύει. Παλεύει γιατί είναι πόλη που έχει περάσει και χειρότερα.

Παλεύει για τα ιδεώδη, και την αρμονία, τη τέχνη και το κάλλος.  Ως Πηνελόπη που περιμένει τον Οδυσσέα της… αλλά καλά κρατάει και δεν δέχεται κανέναν πάνω στο σπαθί της.

Έχει ραγίσει η καρδιά της αλλά είναι ηρωίδα, είναι πολεμίστρα είναι γυναικάρα.

Το έπαιξα τουριστάκι, στη πόλη μου. Σχεδίαζα βόλτες και περιπάτους,  και την άφησα να με πάρει μαζί της. Γελούσαμε σα μικρά κορίτσια και τρώγαμε μαζί παγωτό. Πέρασα από την Πρωτογένους και διέσχισα την Αθηνάς και βρέθηκα στο Μοναστηράκι να παρατηρώ τη παλιά αρχιτεκτονική μαζί με το χάος της νεόδμητης πλατείας.

Βρήκα καινούργια στοιχεία στην Αθήνα που αφήνουν μια ευχάριστη γεύση στο στόμα. Σίγουρα έχει αλλάξει, έχει κουραστεί από τα τελευταία χρόνια των μεταρρυθμίσεων, της οικονομικής κρίσης, της συναισθηματικής κρίσης, αλλά έχει επίσης δώσει πνοή σε καινούργιες φιγούρες, σε καινούργιες τέχνες, σε μια νέα φωνή.

Υπάρχει οργή ακόμα. Τη νιώθεις στα σπασμένα πεζοδρόμια. Υπάρχει στεναχώρια. Τη βλέπεις στα πρόσωπα των φθαρμένων πολιτών της. Υπάρχει αγανάκτηση, την αισθάνεσαι στους τοίχους, αλλά… σιγά σιγά, δειλά όμως… ξεπροβάλλει μια Αθήνα πιο δυνατή απ ότι θα έλεγαν οι πολιτικοί, οι παλιοί, οι βολεμένοι,  η κομπάρσοι, οι περιστασιακοί γκόμενοι της πόλης. Αυτοί που πραγματικά δεν την αγαπούν… τη χρησιμοποιούν όπως οι μνηστήρες… ως διέξοδο, ως πουτάνα.

Αλλά η Αθήνα είναι κυρία… με λίγο φθαρμένα ρούχα, με λίγο χαλασμένο το μακιγιάζ… είναι όμως κυρία.

Η Αθήνα δε μασάει. Μου ψιθύρισε ότι γουστάρει τη νεολαία που την αγάπησε ξανά. Μου έδειξε ότι η τέχνη είναι στους τοίχους της, οι γεύσεις στα πεζοδρόμια της, τα αρώματα καινούργια, πρόσωπα με χαμόγελο.  Μια νέα δύναμη τη στηρίζει σιγά σιγά όλο και πιο πολύ.

Θέλει χρόνο όμως. Θέλει υπομονή γιατί είναι ακόμα φοβισμένη. Δεν εμπιστεύεται εύκολα τον κάθε κόλακα και ομορφάντρα που θα τη πλησιάσει… έχει ακόμα δρόμο μπροστά της να φανεί η ομορφιά της. Αλλά οι μνηστήρες βαρέθηκαν και σιγά σιγά αποχωρούν.

Τα αγόρια και τα κορίτσια της γειτονιάς την υπερασπίζονται είναι με το μέρος της, την ακούν.

Αθήνα πάντα γοητεύεις και ας μην το ξέρεις ακόμα.

The Groove on Repeat

The needle crackles as it presses upon the same tune.
With every turn you short-changed yourself.
Every weak, manipulative, broken man you could find, THAT was your prince charming.
The men who hated, who you were, what you stood for, who had zero interest in
knowing you…
those men who automatically assumed you would put up with their
broken record… the same sad song.
On repeat… like a needle stuck on a vinyl record groove.
You dug deep to find that pure unadulterated shit.
Those B sides no one else would listen to
Your move….my prince.
Flip it to the other side.
I know those girls, ladies, women well.
I cultivated them and then… ravaged them.
Prime rib with a side of, hell-bent on making you feel inadequate.
Thirsty men prey upon troubled souls, those which they helped create.
This endless supply of oppression, degradation, obsession, attention seeking
missiles;
targeting anything that seems the least bit feminine.
You’re been handed an unequal life from the start
Convinced you are worse than, lesser than, below us.
Yet….We are you. You are us.
But we’re out of touch…
Like a one hit wonder, never to be heard from again.
Stuck in the back of a track list long…
forgotten.
We don’t adore the feminine, oh that faggot I’m not him…
Self hate is a horrible thing to waste precious time on.
In order to love us you must love yourselves.
I’m not talking in clichés, this is the real thing.
Smashing the record against the wall… stop listening to that crap.
The deal with this division was someone else’s decision… marking for a collision course
to ourselves.
Look up…. that glass ceiling is covering you too.
Flip it.

Weathering the Storms

beach clouds dark dark clouds
Photo by Josh Sorenson on Pexels.com

All storms pass.
No matter how destructive they might be. The clouds gather ominously the rain falls,
the wind blows, the trees bend, and sometimes their branches break; but they endure.
Even when they leave us rattled and disoriented; storms pass.
Even though they are brutal and cause chaos wherever they go; storms pass.
And like the trees, if we are deeply routed in who we are, where we want to be and
how we want to live our lives, storms can never up root us.
We all live through mini storms, and major hurricanes. Our very existence is questioned,
our moral fiber tested and stretched to the point of ripping, yet there we are; resilient to
the winds and the daunting times of our lives.
This is not a pep talk.
This is a realization. One that I have come to after many storms, many mistakes, and
many
broken
branches.
I burned future chances for happiness and joy, because I thought the
storms of my life were far more destructive than they actually were.
Category 5 disasters… now gentle reminders of how far I’ve come,
how far we have all come.
Whirlwinds, title waves of emotions leaving us bare, raw, naked, worn.
But we get up and we keep going, because storms are there to remind us of our higher
purpose.
We
Are
stronger…
than the any storm.
“When the Roots are Deep, There is no reason to fear the wind”
tree-2845119_960_720

The delicacy of Emotional Abuse

the-lovers-2
R. Magritte – The Lovers (1928)

It starts with the small things.

It starts with the comments about your habits, your way of doing things, how you talk, and how you move. In the beginning you feel comfortable because your partner, friend, lover cares about you to discuss these habits and ways of doing things with you. You feel noticed, appreciated, seen.

Time passes and you get used to it, and after a while these little comments, become criticisms, and as time progresses even further they become outright mean, hurtful and deliberate verbal punches.

And you justify them. You feel as if it’s love, care, understanding, attention. (above all attention). Cause if he/she didn’t care he/she wouldn’t ignore you. And as Anne Lamott says in her TED talk about her 12 truths about life and writing,

Caring is the other side of control. 

But you get used to it, you think this is love, this is caring this is what relationships, friendships, partnerships are supposed to be. Until one day you wake up and you have completely lost yourself in them. They hold the key to every move you make, they have brick by brick stolen your self esteem, your confidence and your ability to believe that you can live with out them. Slowly they have convinced you that you are with out them, useless, weak and afraid, and you believe them. Only they can understand you, and their friendship, love and care is the ultimate and best thing you will ever have.

If you decide to reject their abusive words and actions, you are ungrateful, crazy, you lost your shit, you are imbalanced and certifiably nuts. You are not worthy, you can’t deal, you don’t understand, you’re feelings are irrational, biased and untrue. You will never find anyone like them, only they can deal with your crazy ass, if they left you would be like a lost puppy, you are a selfish, stupid little person.

And that seed of doubt planted right from the beginning; has taken over your whole being. This toxic weed of self doubt, self loathing, self deprecation, is slowly poisoning you. Your kingdom has a new leader and it’s not you. Slowly your foundation has been chipped away and you can’t even stand on your own two feet. But luckily for you, your abuser is there to pick you up, tell you they and only they love you because that’s what real friends, lovers, partners are for.

When the light bulb goes off.

You wake up, one day after having heard it all, and even though you feel wobbly on your feet, you take a step and then another and you rebuild, you begin to listen to your own true voice again, you begin to realize that you’re not a piece of shit, you’re not crazy, you’re not useless without them, you deserve love, affection, care, communication, attention and companionship. And just when they aren’t looking, you jump off the speeding train to no where. You will stumble, you will fall many times, you will feel unsure of the direction you’re taking, but every time you fall, that voice telling you you’re useless without them won’t be there. So you get up and you keep going.

You start to trust your voice again. 

From a whisper, it becomes a steady vibrant, beautiful voice. Like any living being, when the abuse stops scars remain, but with love, care, trust and acceptance, your scars are only a reminder of how far you have come.