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Category: live easy
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My Take on the Downton Abbey Rape Controversy
Spoiler Alert: If you have not seen the January 12th episode of Downton Abbey – DO NOT continue with this post! This post contains massive spoilers!I am a Downton Abbey fan. I admit, my love for the show was quite unexpected. I had heard some internet buzz about the show but never really thought a period piece about the British upperclass would really float my boat. So you can imagine my surprise when I finally watched an episode and immediately found myself being happily dragged into the world of Downton.You see, Downton isn’t just about the British upperclass. It’s a beautiful portrayal about the lives of everyone at Downton…from the footman to the Countess. Each character is developed fully and you find yourself caring deeply about the hardships of both the wealthy and the poor. Therefore, I am now an admitted (and perhaps ravenous) fan of the show. This past Sunday night, I snuggled down in bed (with a cup of tea of course) and prepared to enjoy all the newest adventures of those at Downton.And like the rest of the country, my heart broke when fan-favorite Anna, was raped by a male visitor at Downton. Yes. Raped.The scene was startling. Anna briefly left an opera concert being held at Downton to soothe a headache. Her doting husband, Mr. Bates, seemed concerned and offered to accompany Anna to the kitchen but she insisted that he stay to enjoy the music. After all, Anna spent a lot of time in the kitchen. She worked there. Surely it was safe.As Anna, and viewers, soon learned — it was not. The scene was gripping. It was graphic. Joanne Froggatt, the actress who portrays Anna, masterfully showed the horror, the anger, and the fear that a woman in that situation experiences. That experience is the same whether you are wealthy or poor. It is horrifying. And as Anna’s screams echoed down the hallways of Downton, I felt an all too familiar grip of terror.I am a survivor. It isn’t something I talk about. It isn’t something I share often. Even now, nearly seven years later, emotions often boil to the surface when I least expect them.The grip of terror cemented its grasp during the followup scene where Anna is discovered — broken, bruised, bloody, and scared — by Mrs. Hughes. More than anything, Anna’s shame is apparent. She insists that Mrs. Hughes doesn’t tell a sole, including the police and her own husband, Mr. Bates. The fear and the shame pours down her face as she demands that no one should know.No one should know.
After watching the episode, I couldn’t sleep. It was probably a horrifying episode for many. But I tossed and turned all night reliving Anna’s shame. And sadly, my own. The next morning, I was somewhat surprised to learn that there was controversy regarding the episode. Since the series airs in England prior to being aired in America, many outlets had already picked up the buzz that apparently gripped England last year when the episode first aired. (Over 200 people in England called in complaints on the episode when it aired last October.)Similarly, many bloggers, organizations, and individuals in America took to the internet to proclaim their dislike of the plot line. For example, Slate Blog writer June Thomas wrote a piece entitled “Why is Downton Abbey so Horrible to its Female Characters?” in which she blasted the episode for being an “experiment[] in sadism.”While respecting other opinions on the issue, I feel compelled to put mine out there. Rape is such a scary word because it is such a scary thing. What is scarier is that it happened centuries before Anna’s time and is still happening in our own. And each time it occurs, a woman (or man) feels fear, horror, and sadly, shame. Downton Abbey is providing a poignant picture of what rape was like for women in England during the early twentieth century. Anna’s experience reminds us of a few valuable lessons about rape.Rape can happen to anyone. Anna is a fan favorite. She is sweet and kind and hard working. She is loyal and stood beside Mr. Bates when others did not. Anna is simply wonderful. And yet, something so horrible happened to her…Rape is unexpected. Anna merely went downstairs to get medicine for a headache. She was in what she considered to be a safe place… in fact, probably a place she considered “home.” Today, we are so quick as a society to point fingers at the victims of sexual violence. Was she drinking? Did she wear an exposing top? Did she flirt with the guy? Was she in a dangerous place? Frankly, the blame game disgusts me. Anna’s rape reminds us, that rape — yes, all rape — is solely and completely the fault of the perpetrator. Period. End of story.Rape shame is real. I am still replaying Anna’s face upon being discovered by Mrs. Hughes. Her hair is disheveled and her limbs shake with fear. Her bruises and blood are visible, but it is really the shame in her eyes that is most clear. This character — who we love and who couldn’t have possibly have done anything to “deserve” what happened to her — still feels shame. It is the shame that millions of women (and yes, men too) feel every year. It is deep and it penetrates your soul. It isn’t something easily shaken off or cast aside merely because someone who cares for you insists that it wasn’t your fault. Anna’s shame is real… as is the shame of millions.So while I will respect those who chose to quit watching the series based upon this turn of events, I for one, will watch. I will watch because I love Anna. I will watch because Anna represents all victims of sexual abuse and I hope that the show’s creator’s will continue to treat her character, and the experience she had, with the utmost tact but also with the raw honesty it deserves. And frankly, I believe that it is a raw dose of honesty about the lasting impact of sexual violence. In my opinion, that is something that we all, as a society, need to see. -

Confession: I did not enjoy my wedding.
Adam was right.
After getting engaged, Adam requested that we elope and I balked at the idea. After waiting 26 years to get engaged, by goodness, I was going to have a freakin’ wedding! But now that it is all said and done — the money spent, the pictures in, the day over — I can without reservation say that Adam was right. We should have eloped.
If you were a girl who loved every last minute of your wedding, please don’t take this post as an accusation. It’s not meant to be. If you are girl planning your wedding, please don’t take this post as an attack to all your wedding bell dreams. It’s not meant to be. This is, however, a confession I need the world to hear. I did not enjoy my wedding. Not even a little bit…
Over the holiday weekend, one of Adam’s relatives made a statement to me. She said, “I really liked your wedding because you enjoyed yourself.” It wasn’t a question… it was a foregone conclusion. I sort of nodded my head politely and she responded, “Yup. You did. You really did enjoy yourself. That’s what made it so wonderful. You enjoyed yourself.” I wanted to laugh. I wanted to correct her. I wanted to tell her that if it appeared that way, I deserve an Oscar. I wanted to let her to know how badly I just wanted to just grab Adam’s hand on that day, get in a car, and get out of there. Together, and alone.
Our wedding was beautiful. It was filled with love. There was plenty of food, dancing, and laughter. We had amazing family and friends that tried their best to show their support to us. I loved that our parents pitched in funds and helped plan and showed up at 8:00 a.m. to decorate the venue in 100 degree weather. I loved seeing other family members make the long journey to Central Arkansas and I loved meeting some of Adam’s family members for the first time… But when it is all boiled down, it was just too much.
I was under no illusions about weddings. I know that they are a lot of work and
cost a lot of money. That’s just the truth of the matter. However, I was under
the impression that after all that hard work, and after shelling out all that
dough, I would get to sit back, relax and enjoy my wedding. I didn’t.Instead of feeling like a blushing bride, I felt more like a referee. I
constantly ran interference between everyone. With only four hours of sleep and bags beneath my eyes, I toted boxes, setup tables, organized decorations and basically ran around like crazy from 8:00 a.m. onward. My phone
rang every five minutes with cancelled RSVP’s and at roughly $60.00 a head, these messages became more and
more infuriating… especially considering that we had already finished setting
up the required tables, chairs and ceremony benches of ALL RSVP’ed guests. If it wasn’t a cancelled RSVP, it was a vendor on the other line asking to confirm details that I’d already confirmed… at least once and sometimes twice. Even with a wedding planner, there was too much to do and not enough
time to get it all done in one day.Looking back, I didn’t have a single moment to stop and reflect on what was about to happen — on the fact that I was about to marry my best friend. Not a single moment. It was so rushed. It was so insane. I had too many people to greet. I had too many responsibilities to fulfill. There were too many people to disappoint… I was not a bride. I was a cog in a wedding machine that had to “do my part” in order for the day to be successful…
With that said — I did enjoy moments of my wedding. What moments you ask? The moments with Adam… The moment I looked into his eyes and promised to never let anything come between us. The moment we danced and I laid my head against his chest and just listened to his heart beat while our song played. The moment I was having an obligatory conversation with a wedding guest and caught Adam’s eye from across the venue and saw him smile…at me… his wife. Yes, those are the moments that I enjoyed.
And you know — I could have absorbed all those moments and more without spending a small fortune on rentals, alcohol, and worrying about whether we had enough cheese on the cheese tray. If I could go back in time, I would take Adam up on his offer. After securing the ring, I would pick a destination, book a photographer, and it would be all “wheel’s up” and wedding bound. All the friends and family who wanted to attend would just have to be disappointed. Adam and I could have avoided all the stress, saved all that money, and put it towards what really matters: Our future together. Our lives together as husband and wife.
But what done is done. I chose to have the “big” wedding (although only about 100 people showed up) and now I have the photos and the memories (plus the bad bridesmaid stories, photo disappointments, and leftover booze) that came along with it…
But if there was a time machine, I would go back. I would grab Adam’s hand when he suggested an elopement, look deep into his eyes and say, “Honey. You won’t always be right in our marriage. But you are this time. Let’s go!”

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why I didn’t take Adam’s last name…
If I haven’t lost you after reading the title of this post, then I am grateful. This post has been on my heart for awhile and I feel like I needed to put it into words. So please stick around, read my point of view, and let me know what you think:
The title of this post, in my opinion, is “framed” the correct way. Maybe it’s because I am a lawyer, but I like to be as precise as possible with my language. Most people wouldn’t notice the difference, but the hair on my arms starts to raise when people ask me, “Why did you keep your name?” Keep?
Keep means “to retain possession of” or “continue in a specified direction or way.” It seems to indicate that my name was somehow slipping away and I reached out and “retained it.” It also, in my opinion, seems to imply that “keeping it” was wrong. To me, it didn’t feel wrong. It felt — well, like me.
Let me just say, I have nothing against women who chose to take on their husband’s name. I think that it is a choice to be made and I respect that choice in every way. Sadly, while I respect their decision to do so, I haven’t always found the opposite to be true. In fact, after getting engaged to Adam, it wasn’t the men in my life who were shocked by the fact I didn’t intend to take Adam’s name — it was the women. I was shocked sometimes at the response from my fellow sex.
These are the most commonly asked questions or the responses I got:
Don’t you love Adam?
Yes, I love Adam. He is my other half in every sense of the word. I truly believe that he and I were destined to be together. But I don’t understand why that means that I have to give up something that means something to me. You see — my parents had a terrible divorce. I didn’t speak to my father for nearly 8 years… When we finally reconnected, it was like I found a piece of my life that was missing for far too long. I love my father. Having his name as mine reminds me of my connection to him — it reminds me that we all make mistakes but that we are all capable of healing, forgiving, and moving on. Not taking Adam’s last name has nothing at all to do with not loving him — but it has everything to do with love.
Won’t your kids be confused? That’s not fair to them.
Kids understand differences. They understand that mommy and daddy aren’t the same. Mommy sits down to pee. Daddy doesn’t. Mommy wears shoes with heels on them. Daddy doesn’t. Daddy exercises nearly daily. Mommy doesn’t. Kids probably won’t even KNOW that my last name is different from theirs until they are old enough to read my driver’s license! It will be fine. Seriously. I mean, do kids say, “Mommy Jane Doe!” No, they say “Mommy.”Oh, I get it. You went to law school so that’s why you are keeping your name.
I did go to law school. It was three years of hard work followed by the most difficult summer of my life when I studied for the bar exam. It was torture at times but that is not the only reason I chose not to take Adam’s last name. Plenty of “professional” women change their names and I have no problem with that — power to them. This is probably a “factor” in why did not take Adam’s name, but to try to wrap me into a nice, neat, “professional-working-woman” package so that you can understand why I made the choice I did is frankly, a little insulting.Wow. Adam must be a HUGE pushover.
No. I draw the line here. Adam is the manliest man I know. He works out regularly, he sleeps with a Glock on the nightstand, and I pity the fool who would ever try to hurt me. Seriously. This man loves me fiercely and would take on anything that threatened us and our lives together. This is a man who stands up for anything that he deems worthy and necessary. But this is also a man who is level-headed and rationale. He doesn’t “push” his ways over mine and he never demands that I do something or refrain from others. He allows me to completely and totally be myself. When we were dating, I mentioned to Adam that I would keep my name if I got married. He took a moment and then asked, “Would it be because you like your name, or because you don’t like mine?” Without hesitation I answered, “Mine. It just love mine.” From that day, it never had to be discussed again. Adam loved ME — not the idea of me with HIS name. Just me — and loving me meant loving the fact that I was the type of woman to chose my own last name over his. If I had been the other type, he still would have loved me. It has nothing to do with being a pushover — it has everything to do with being a good man.As of today — we’ve been married one month. It’s been wonderful and I can’t wait to see what this life holds for us. And YES — we will do it will separate last names on the checking account. We understand that we will have to deal with the occasional confusion — are you married yet? are you guys just dating? why are these names different?
But you know– that’s our choice. It is a choice that we made and one that we can only ask others to respect. I believe that this situation can be a tricky one. Each woman is different and each relationship is too. I respect your decision to take his name, to elope, to throw a HUGE church wedding, to have tons of kids, to adopt, to not have any kids at all — whatever your decision is, so long as you have come to an agreement in your relationship, who the heck am I to question it!?
So I only ask for the same respect. I love my husband. We have different last names. We’re okay with that. Are you?




