Marie Bargas is no stranger to this blog and she ran across a person of some note who has a relevance to both historical culture and society as well as the evolution of society as a whole. The person is Z. Budapest! This is PART 2 of the Story of Z Budapest- edited by Marie Bargas (www.yourpoppsychic.com. Each one of these segments is written by Z. Budapest herself. It’s her story– in her own words!
Z’s Story:
I have seen my share of wars close-up and personal. I was born into the middle and post-WWII area in Europe. I grew up with famine and frequent change of residences according to where my mother could place me, mostly in the country side where there was still food.
I didn’t get to live with my mother until I was ten years old. Mom was always worried that I may get brain damage for lack of nourishment.
I still have vivid images in my head of the ostrom (siege) and the bombings of our building. One bomb wiped off four floors from our building. Our home was pulverized.
As a child, I watched Hungarian women dragged away to “peel” potatoes, for the Russian soldiers, but they didn’t take the men. We all knew potatoes had nothing to do with it. It was the ancient of soldiers to rape the conquered female population. It was one of the perks men got when they signed up to be killers. I never forgot it.
Rape in Modern Day America:
But this was L.A. in Spring! We were not in any wars. But even then, why did some men continue to take their “war perks” by raping women? Some rapists still do it like soldiers, in groups or in gangs.
Raping in a group (or not) has nothing to do with sex. It has to do with domination as observed by other males. They see each other’s genitals in action. So, there is gay panic involved. You could argue, they gang rape for the latent homosexual satisfaction of the male genitals exposed; a male bonding in the forbidden act of rape. It’s pretty ugly there in the “land of denial”. They also share the forbidden joy of watching the terrorized woman, who they have hunted down suffer. They share ownership of power over a woman. Cowards.
The Gory Details:
When Sharon came to a couple of days later, more details were revealed.
“They called me dyke! I rode a bike. They hated me and called me a dirty dyke!”
“You could have been riding a pink unicorn, they would have hated you.” Dixie added.
Sharon was in cast for two months.
So what to do? What can us as a small group of feminist do? Joan was way ahead of us.
“I think we should take a vow that each time we hear a woman cry for help, we go and see what’s happening. Help her in whatever way we can.”
This took us a while to agree to, but it sounded okay. We would respond to cries for help. Honorable enough. We all knew feminism eventually would have to show some verve, some backbone.
Joan started organizing the new “Anti-Rape Squad.” We were the first members.
Thanks to Marie Bargas for putting together this 6 part series– of which this is part one! Stay tuned for next week’s post! Thanks to Z Budapest for her willingness to share this series!
Stevie Wilson,
LA-Story.com
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