maddie7217's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
4.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Sexual assault, Grief, Mental illness, Rape, Panic attacks/disorders, Sexual content, Incest, Sexual harassment, and Sexual violence
lindee's review against another edition
5.0
Finally, survivorship from the perspective of survivors: messy stuff, not needing to make a case that this is real and bad and happens, not presented as if there is one right way to cope or heal.
This is a book that came to existence out of a real, unmet need: stories about living alongside trauma that doesn't quit, doesn't fit into a tidy package with a bow of closure on it, separate from the rest of your life after a montage sequence full of:
you pumping iron and running laps and getting so strong no one can hurt you again (lol), forever
or
you going to therapy where an inspirational person tells you the one thing that magically breaks through (lol) all the hurt and you cry buckets and then move on, forever
or
you sitting in a courtroom (lol), confronting the person who hurt you and now that your story is told and the truth has come to light and everyone believes you (lololol) and justice is served in a form that both keeps other people safe and undoes the hurt that was done you and punishing him sure fixes him up good (lololololololol)....
you know the ones.
These are ridiculous scenarios in terms of realism, but in the wish-fulfillment narratives we see in dominant media, they're the only survivors who get to be protagonists. And survivors living in the silence and shame around sexual assault believe that there is something wrong with them for not having gotten over it already. There's no goddamn manual. This is as close as you can get, I think.
I found a lot of specific ideas and experiences in these essays powerful, relatable, validating, enlightening, comforting, and important. I have decided not to list them, because they are very personal, and the ones that are most important to me may not be the most important to you. If you are seeking answers, I encourage you to read this book yourself.
P.S.: The actual title of this book, according to its cover, is Whatever Gets You Through: Twelve Survivors on Life After Sexual Assault. It's also listed as the 'original' title. I'm not really sure what happened there. I do not think the authors and editors of this book would have chosen a less inclusive title, the way essentialism can harm survivors is discussed by multiple contributors, and I hope this gets fixed.
P.P.S.: This book gets full marks from me for meaningful representation. It is also super Canadian.
This is a book that came to existence out of a real, unmet need: stories about living alongside trauma that doesn't quit, doesn't fit into a tidy package with a bow of closure on it, separate from the rest of your life after a montage sequence full of:
you pumping iron and running laps and getting so strong no one can hurt you again (lol), forever
or
you going to therapy where an inspirational person tells you the one thing that magically breaks through (lol) all the hurt and you cry buckets and then move on, forever
or
you sitting in a courtroom (lol), confronting the person who hurt you and now that your story is told and the truth has come to light and everyone believes you (lololol) and justice is served in a form that both keeps other people safe and undoes the hurt that was done you and punishing him sure fixes him up good (lololololololol)....
you know the ones.
These are ridiculous scenarios in terms of realism, but in the wish-fulfillment narratives we see in dominant media, they're the only survivors who get to be protagonists. And survivors living in the silence and shame around sexual assault believe that there is something wrong with them for not having gotten over it already. There's no goddamn manual. This is as close as you can get, I think.
I found a lot of specific ideas and experiences in these essays powerful, relatable, validating, enlightening, comforting, and important. I have decided not to list them, because they are very personal, and the ones that are most important to me may not be the most important to you. If you are seeking answers, I encourage you to read this book yourself.
P.S.: The actual title of this book, according to its cover, is Whatever Gets You Through: Twelve Survivors on Life After Sexual Assault. It's also listed as the 'original' title. I'm not really sure what happened there. I do not think the authors and editors of this book would have chosen a less inclusive title, the way essentialism can harm survivors is discussed by multiple contributors, and I hope this gets fixed.
P.P.S.: This book gets full marks from me for meaningful representation. It is also super Canadian.
candelibri's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
informative
reflective
medium-paced
4.75
Where has this been? This is the writing we need, the stories we need told. I don’t think I’m in a clear enough headspace to write any sort of review other than to say I ran out of the proverbial highlighter halfway through. Each woman, each essay, was uniquely their own and yet carried a piece, a facet of me in it.
This is the handbook of handbooks - you are not alone, you are valued and you can make it through because there is no wrong approach.
This is the handbook of handbooks - you are not alone, you are valued and you can make it through because there is no wrong approach.
anureetbrar916's review against another edition
DNF at pg. 76
I LOVED the first essay (My Hand Becomes a Fist). Especially page 19 and the quote, "We say that fighting is violence, but here it was a kindness". The third essay (My Forbidden Room) didn't answer the prompt and didn't conform to the subject at hand. The second (The Goose) and the fourth (Skinny Days) were just plain weird. By the time I got to the fifth (The Salvation in my Sickness) I'd just given up hope and reading anything equal to or better than the first essay.
I LOVED the first essay (My Hand Becomes a Fist). Especially page 19 and the quote, "We say that fighting is violence, but here it was a kindness". The third essay (My Forbidden Room) didn't answer the prompt and didn't conform to the subject at hand. The second (The Goose) and the fourth (Skinny Days) were just plain weird. By the time I got to the fifth (The Salvation in my Sickness) I'd just given up hope and reading anything equal to or better than the first essay.
angelamisri's review against another edition
5.0
I opened this book with hesitation, as I'm sure many women did, knowing that the stories inside would reopen wounds, remind us of times and memories we'd rather not linger in, and make us newly sad for the humans suffering through their words. Instead, I found story after story of recovery, a path each woman has taken to "get through" to the other side. No one is cured, no miracle is achieved, but by sharing the diverse routes we must carve out in our own lives, through our own unique pain, it makes this community whole together. There is no one way to get through. There is your way. #MeToo ladies, and thank you.
rini's review against another edition
challenging
dark
emotional
hopeful
informative
inspiring
reflective
sad
tense
slow-paced
5.0
Content Warnings
Graphic: Ableism, Child abuse, Child death, Domestic abuse, Eating disorder, Emotional abuse, Incest, Injury/Injury detail, Mental illness, Misogyny, Murder, Panic attacks/disorders, Physical abuse, Rape, Self harm, Sexism, Sexual assault, Sexual violence, Transphobia, and Violence
Moderate: Adult/minor relationship, Alcohol, Alcoholism, Blood, Chronic illness, Death, Suicidal thoughts, Colonisation, Genocide, Vomit, and Racism
Minor: Abandonment and War
emmaknapp's review against another edition
4.0
This took me a while to get through because the stories are heavy. I think it was an important read for me to hear these stories.
dramaqueentears's review against another edition
5.0
It took me forever to read this because it was so emotionally difficult. I don’t think I was ready until I was.
My reigning thought over the several other thoughts I have is this: I believed I was alone even though I knew that statistically, I wasn’t. Survivors don’t speak about their experiences unless they are “good survivors,” who don’t truly exist. This anthology knocked down the barriers in my heart that made me feel isolated. I felt my emotions every time I read this.
There were great pieces on disability and healing and what survivorship means for trans women that truly changed my life and how I’ve looked at my own survival. I wish I could say thank you to the authors.
My reigning thought over the several other thoughts I have is this: I believed I was alone even though I knew that statistically, I wasn’t. Survivors don’t speak about their experiences unless they are “good survivors,” who don’t truly exist. This anthology knocked down the barriers in my heart that made me feel isolated. I felt my emotions every time I read this.
There were great pieces on disability and healing and what survivorship means for trans women that truly changed my life and how I’ve looked at my own survival. I wish I could say thank you to the authors.
aimiller's review
5.0
This is just like a really incredible anthology--so many of the authors are so conscious of the world in which they're writing and living, and so resistant to the narratives of survivorship, and what that specifically means in this moment (2019, during #MeToo, etc.)
So many of these essays are so good; I think my favorite is Gwen Benaway's essay, "Silence," but also Amber Dawn's "This (Traumatized, Kinky, Queer) Body Holds a Story," and "The Mother You Need" by Elisabeth de Mariaffi. By "good," of course I mean moved me in ways that shift beyond the kind of sympathetic pornotroping of a lot of representations of survivor narratives (not all; this text obviously owes a lot to the work of Dorothy Allison and others, and some essayists acknowledge that,) and pushed me intellectually and emotionally to think about what survival and living after sexual assault means.
So many of these essays are so good; I think my favorite is Gwen Benaway's essay, "Silence," but also Amber Dawn's "This (Traumatized, Kinky, Queer) Body Holds a Story," and "The Mother You Need" by Elisabeth de Mariaffi. By "good," of course I mean moved me in ways that shift beyond the kind of sympathetic pornotroping of a lot of representations of survivor narratives (not all; this text obviously owes a lot to the work of Dorothy Allison and others, and some essayists acknowledge that,) and pushed me intellectually and emotionally to think about what survival and living after sexual assault means.
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