Mel Gibson: What Women DON’T Want!

“I deserve to be blown.”

Yes you do Mel..to kingdom come!

I bet Tiger Woods is relieved these days:

‘I’m not looking so bad now, am I? And you thought I was bad to MY girl.  I may be a whore but I never called her one!’

There are bad boyfriends and then there are Mel Gibson bad boyfriends.  From now on, I will be looking out for friends who I may not realize are “dating a Mel”.

Are you “dating a Mel”?  If you are, you need to kick his ass to the curb but not literally of course because if you do, he will then “put you in a fuckin rose garden…because [he’s] capable of it. You understand that?”

Everyone is innocent until proven guilty but Mel is looking awfully guilty right about now.

It is more than a little bizarre to remember that Mel Gibson once starred in a movie entitled “What Women Want”. 

Yehhh…not so much.

I understand that the story presently in the media remains to be authenticated by authorities but I am pretty sure a man as powerful as he is/?WAS would have discredited something so incendiary by now…IF it was untrue.  And certainly, a man who feels he is as ENTITLED as Mel Gibson APPARENTLY feels he is…would…if he could.

Mel, you once cinematically asked “What Women Want”.  I completely get it now, why you felt you did not understand the female psyche and needed to explore it.  Can I suggest to you that perhaps you have failed at that task?  Indulge me Mel and allow me to help you along on your path to enlightenment by letting you in on five things that women DON’T want.  A good starting point I think on your road to finding out what they DO.

1. Women DON’T want to be verbally and emotionally abused.

Called a “bitch”, “gold digger”, “whore”, “fuckin user”, “fucking bitch” and “cunt”.

Screamed at, demeaned, threatened and terrorized:

“you look like a fucking bitch in heat. And if you get raped by a pack of niggers it will be your fault. Alright? Because you provoked it.”

“You’re a fucking using whore…I own you.  You don’t count”

“And remember whose fucking roof you’re under! You ingrate bitch!”

“I will fire (name omitted) if she’s at your house. I will make it known and fire her. I’ll report her to the fucking people that take fucking money from the wetbacks, ok?”

“Stay on this phone and don’t hang up on me.  I have plenty of energy to drive over there.  You understand me!! AND I WILLLL!!”

“It’s my fucking money.  You understand?  You don’t have your own money.  You are only USING my money.”

“I am behaving like this because I know you absolutely do not love me and you treat me with no consideration.  I love you because I treated you with every kindness, every consideration, you rejected.  You will never be happy.  FUCK YOU!! Get the FUCK away from me.  BUT MY DAUGHTER IS IMPORTANT! Alright.  NOW!! You have ONE MORE CHANCE!  And I mean it. Now, fucking GO, if you want, but I will give you one more chance.  You make me wanna SMOKE.  You FUCK my day up.  You care about YOURSELF, when I am being so FUCKING good to you…You can just FUCKIN SMILE AND BLOW ME cause I DESERVE IT!”

“You’re a fucking fake. You’re a fucking sham. You don’t know what the fuck it means to make a man happy. You didn’t make me fucking happy.  You fucking glum cunt!”

“You have no FUCKING SOUL!”

“You are a dishonest cunt”.

“If you get raped it’s your fault, for starters. Showing off your fake tits! Like they’re some special deal?”

“You fuckin’ ignorant bitch! I don’t understand you! You’re saying stupid shit! How dare you fucking even insult me with some of the stupid reasoning you have? Your logic sucks, because you’re a fucking mentally deprived idiot!”.

“You go out in public and it’s a fucking embarrassment to me. You look like a fucking bitch in heat.”

“I will make your God dam life miserable”.

“I’m not giving you my house and you can rot unless you crawl back, suck my cock and say you’re sorry, in that order! Do you understand me?”

Regarding our breasts: “They look ridiculous…they look stupid…They look like a Vegas whore.”

“I NEED a WOMEN not a FUCKING little girl with a FUCKIN dysfunctional cunt”.

“You callous cunt. You never even say FUCKING thank you…Say thank you every five God Dam minutes and NOT call me mean and NOT look at me sideways. Just SUCK MY COCK…you fucking cunt whore.  That’s bout all you are good for cause that is all you are fucking good at.  Much better than fuckin music.”

“You’re in MY house. So I’ll call the police and tell them there is someone in MY house.  HOW BOUT THAT? …FUCK you.  I don’t involve the police in anything because I stand up for myself.  You, you WEAK cunt, you call the FUCKING cops. 

“You need a fucking kick up the ass for being a bitch, cunt, gold digging whore! … And I want my child, and no one will believe you! So fuck you!”

“How DARE you act like such a BITCH when I am being so FUCKIN nice”.

2. Women DON’T want you to abuse their children.

Verbally: “Look at your son. He’s a fucking mess. You fucking excuse for a mother.”

“gold digging whore! With a pussy son!”

Physically: When you physically assault us while we are holding your child and wound our infant daughter’s face. “And you hit her, whilst she was in my hands.”

Emotionally: Cause such fear in our child's caregiver that she feels compelled to take our child and hide from you.

Threaten to kill our children.

3. Women DON’T want to be physically abused.

Punched in the face while we are holding YOUR infant daughter.  AND, if you CHOOSE to assault us, we wouldn’t have “fucking deserved it."

4. Women DON’T want to be EXPECTED to service you sexually before we are ALLOWED to sleep, like a human slave.

“I deserve to be blown fast! Before the fucking Jacuzzi!”

““Waited and waited.  What, two and a half fucking minutes!? You’re fucking snoring. Don’t you dare.”

“I should’ve woken you up and said fucking blow me bitch! I should’ve fuckin woken you up and said blow me! You would’ve liked that better, yeah? But you need the goddamn sleep!”

  5.  Women DON’T want to have our lives threatened or endangered or taken.

       

You would think that one was obvious but I am guessing in your case, not so much.

Women DON’T want to have a gun pointed at our heads and have our lives threatened: "I will show you how to get out of here fast"

Oksana: “I am saving my life.  I saving daughter’s life.  I don’t give a dam about my music and I don’t give a dam about you spending another penny.  I am saving her life…you almost killed us.  Did you forget? You were hitting a women with a child in her hands.  You. What kind of man is that, hitting a woman when she is holding a child in her hands, breaking her teeth twice, in the face.  What kind of man is that?”

Covering our faces with your hand so we cannot breathe.

“Get a FUCKIN restraining order!  For what?  What are you gonna get a restraining order for?  For me being drunk & disorderly, for me hitting you, for what?

Choking us with your forearm pressing into our throats.

“I’ll burn the goddamn house up”

“You need a fucking bat in the side of the head.”

“I’ll put you in a fuckin rose garden you cunt! You understand that? Because I’m capable of it. You understand that?”

Mel?!?, there is SO much wrong with your monstrous behaviour on SO many levels.  Where to start?  You can start by giving up the belief that you are entitled to abuse women.  You are NOT!

Mel, it may surprise you to know that women actually have many rights in a relationship.  These rights include the right:

• To be respected by you (you may have to look that word up.)
• To change her mind (yes, she gets to do that Mel;  this is not Afghanistan)
• To be called no name that hurts or shames (see #1 above)
• To kindness from you (abuse is not kind)
• To emotional support from you (tearing her to pieces is not support)
• To have her own opinions, even if you disagree (once again, not Afghanistan)
• To have her own feelings (“Don’t you dare fucking complain to me! I don’t fuckin’ hear you!” would be denying her that right)
• To live free from physical threats (see #2, #3 and #5 above)
• To be listened to politely by you (that one will take SO much therapy)
• To live free from emotional threats (see #1, #2 and #4 above)
• To have her interests spoken of with respect (“I don’t think you CAN do it…That’s how little I think of your FUCKING talent!”)
• To live free from rage (you’re familiar with rage, right Mel)
• To be asked respectfully and not ordered (yep, that one will be a HUGE adjustment for you)
• And (this one, may well be beyond you) to not have sexual or physical contact with you when she chooses

It has been disturbing, after listening to those tapes, to then read comments online effectively defending Mel’s abuse and even condemning Oksana, but I suspect the defenders likely cannot bear to be reminded of their own history or their own behaviour and so are failing to call Mel on his own.

To anyone in Mel’s life who is afraid of calling him on his behaviour for what it is…outrageous, abusive, out of control, dangerous and unfit to be near a child, you are only reinforcing the status quo.  It doesn’t help Mel.  It doesn’t help the women in his life and it certainly doesn’t help his children.  This dangerous cycle he is living in must be broken with truth and then help.

Dear Judge in the custody case of Lucia:

With respect, if you understand those tapes to be authentic and the report that Mel punched his ex-girlfriend while she was holding their daughter Lucia turns out to be true, then Mel Gibson needs to be denied anything beyond supervised visitation for a period of at least six months until her gets serious help and a psychiatrist can attest to the probability of him punching his daughter’s mother in the face…again.   You also need to require him to turn over to the court the gun he threatened Oksana with and any OTHERS he may own. 

“You have my child and she doesn’t need a gold digging, fucking Russian cunt, whore for a mother! We all know what you are! I will have that child, easily.”

I know there is a perception of two classes of justice in Hollywood, one for regular folk and one for celebrities.  If you do anything less Sir/Ma'am, then you are failing Lucia.

Dear Oksana Grigorieva:

You did the RIGHT thing in recording your abusive boyfriend.  I only wish he wasn’t the father of your child as it would be best if you and Lucia stayed as far away from Mel Gibson as humanly possible. 

“No one will believe you.”

Mel was right at least once on those tapes.  No one would have believed you Ms Grigorieva and you could have potentially ended up like Nicole Brown Simpson leaving Lucia to be raised by the man who murdered you and then convinced a court "If the glove doesn't fit, you must acquit". 

Once custody is settled Ms Grigorieva, PLEASE have a third party transfer custody of Lucia until such time as a mental health professional can assure a court of law that it is safe to do otherwise.  If Mel Gibson does not get mental health treatment, then ignore the Mel apologists, protect your daughter and do whatever you can legally to keep him away from Lucia.

Dear Mel Gibson’s bigwig Hollywood handlers & Lawyers:

Don’t enable him.  Help him!  If you orchestrate Mel evade taking responsibility for punching the mother of his child in the mouth, while she was holding their child, you are responsible for what happens to Lucia next.  On your conscience.

Dear Robyn Gibson:

“I CAN’T GET like this ANYMORE!!”

If your ex-husband abused you and you want him to get help for your kids’ sake, don’t enable him any longer.  Tell the truth.  I do not mean to disrespect you after you have publicly stated Mel did not physically abuse you but you can understand, woman to woman, why I find it hard to believe after listening to THOSE tapes that Mel Gibson has SUDDENLY become a JUSTIFYING PHYSICAL ABUSER at his age.  From those tapes, Ms Gibson, it is also hard to believe that your ex has also SUDDENLY become a JUSTIFYING EMOTIONAL ABUSER at his age as well. 

Mel screamed on one of the released recordings, addressing Ms Grigorieva:

“I couldn’t make you happy with the BEST I DID FOR ANYBODY, EVER! EVER!”

For you and your seven children’s sake Ms Gibson, I pray that was not true?

If Mel didn’t abuse you and is having a serious mental breakdown or has grown a baseball-sized tumour in his head, please consider using the fact that he trusts you enough to submit an affidavit to the court on his behalf, to tell him the truth about his behaviour and request that he get help NOW for your children’s sake.

Dear Whoopi Goldberg:

I disagree with the majority who have condemned you for sticking up for your friend Mel.  I applaud you for telling the truth about your friend as you see it.  You believe that the Mel Gibson that you have had in your home and around your children is not a racist.  I am not sure I agree with you but if you believe he is not, then you did the the right thing in standing up for your friend.  A true friend walks in the door when everyone else is walking out.  In that respect you have been a true friend to Mel and true friends are GOLD.  That being said, if you and Mel are truly friends, then he needs more than that from you right now...a great deal more.  He needs his friend Whoopi to tell him the truth.  He needs his friend Whoopi to call him on the carpet and condemn his behaviour…not on The View, but to his face.  Be his friend Whoopi and call him on his abusive behaviour, for what it is, and then encourage him with every friend card you can play to get help.  That is what a true friend would do.

“So that’s why I’m so fucking angry, because I don’t have any friends! And I try and make one from you”

If you are his friend Whoopi, then be his friend because as ugly and outrageous as Mel’s behaviour is, he needs his friends now.

Dear Mel Gibson:

You seem to be very fond of Christ.  Well Sir, your behaviour would appal Jesus.  You do recall how Jesus treated women and children, don’t you?

“I’m MEAN!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT?”

“I’ve done nothing but be nice to you!”

Mel, the way you treated a woman on those tapes is so beyond ANY definition of mean and it was also the farthest thing from nice. 

“You’re not the fucking woman I want.”

Mr. Gibson, there is not a woman alive, with a shred of self-esteem who would WANT the man on THOSE tapes! 

Mel, you have some BIG problems.  You cannot solve these problems by yourself.  You need help.  If you do not get help, you are going to do something that even the most expensive Hollywood lawyers will not be able to extricate you from.  On one of the tapes you screamed:

“Take care of your fucking son and I better have my daughter!” 

“I’m so fucking sorry I had a child with you.”

As someone who has cares deeply for children, I am sorry that the man on THOSE tapes has children, let alone eight of them.  Your children deserve MUCH better Mr. Gibson.  It is clear that the women in your life CERTAINLY do. And Mel, you deserve much better too.  You are clearly suffering.  It does not have to hurt this much but it will only get worse if you refuse to get help…possibly MUCH MUCH worse.  Mel, I understand that you are seeing a therapist; it is not enough.  You need inpatient treatment, as soon as possible.  The man on those tapes is not fit to be within 100 yards of a child.  Your children need a father Mel but they do not need the man on THOSE tapes. 

This is a critical moment in your life Mel.  Embrace it.  Don’t run from it.  Your lack of mental health has been laid bare for the world to hear in the form of recorded rage, abuse and violence.  Get help…please!

On a personal note,

  THANK YOU to all the wonderful men out there who treat women with respect and who don’t abuse their kids.  Thank you!  I know that I speak for all women when I say…We LOVE you!

Godspeed Lucia, Oksana and Mel!

Next Blogum: August 2010

Sage Spencer

I never wanted to be a mother, until I gave up my own mother.

Like too many children in this world, I grew up in an abusive household. Like some of them, I was the only child among my siblings that was abused. Don’t get me wrong, we were all neglected in various ways, as my parents, while presumably doing the best they knew, failed to meet many of the needs that every child has in this life.

My name is Sage Spencer and I was the Differentiated Child in a family of five children.

The Differentiated Child is the term I have coined for my situation and that of others like me. I Googled it and found nothing. It is possible my situation is called something else by the professionals who study these sorts of things. I am not a mental health professional. I speak only as a survivor.

While it took me many adult years to even see what was done to me, let alone understand it or extricate myself from its chains, I realize in hindsight that my first experience with a Differentiated Child was likely as a little girl – as a childhood friend may have been one as well.

At the point in time that I knew my possibly Differentiated childhood friend, I was young, young enough not to understand sex. My friend, I will call her Catherine, came to tell me that she was leaving our primary school. While the order of events is fuzzy to me, I remember clearly being in the presence of my teacher and Catherine and being instructed by my teacher not to discuss what I had learned from my friend that day with anyone else. I realize now that it may have been inappropriate of my teacher to attempt to silence me, but her intentions were all good. Catherine had presumably told me because she trusted me. I was the keeper of all secrets, even then.

What she told me that day was that she had to move to another school. I asked her whether her family was moving far away. She told me that her siblings were not leaving the school, only she was. I remember being confused by that answer. Catherine was a very sweet girl. The only reason I could conceive of at that age was that badly behaved kids might have to leave school, so I did not understand. She told me that her dad was doing things to her that he was not supposed to, so she had to go live somewhere else. I remember the silence after that. I remember where we were standing on the grounds of my school, as if it was yesterday, as my young mind tried to process her response. It is certainly one of my strongest childhood memories. I knew that it meant something sexual, but I did not really understand. In hindsight, I cannot believe that I asked her the next question, but when I look at one of my nieces, today a similar age, and the questions she regularly asks, I realize it is just the difference between children and adults. In some form or another, I asked her whether her dad was doing things to her brother and sisters as well. It seemed an appropriate question to my young self. What I do remember clearly, was that she said, “no, just me” in a manner that now as an adult, suggests to me that that is what she believed to be true. Whether she was a Differentiated Child, the child targeted for abuse, in her family of four, I will likely never know, though I will wonder about her for the rest of my life.

I was a Differentiated Child, the child targeted for abuse, but as with all children like me, I presume, I was brainwashed into believing I deserved it.

None of what was done to me was at all apparent to me, until I endured too large a number of tragedies in a row to cope with on my own, something I thought I had perfected until then, and needed guidance by way of therapy, something I never thought I would do until I did.

While I kept the abuse hidden as long as I could after starting therapy, I did this mostly unconsciously. Abuse had been normalized for me. I did not understand exactly what I was keeping hidden, because I did not grasp what had been done to me. To this day, I have never told anyone all the details of the abuse, or even most of them. The therapist who I saw for a time got bits and afterward my best friend some more bits. While I have come a long way since those first days, I do not know if I will ever tell my whole story. It is too humiliating and I have suffered enough.

What I now know, clearly, is that outside of my home I was well liked; inside my own home, I was not. This was not a behaviour specific situation, in that my behaviour was inappropriate inside my home and appropriate outside of my home, as can be the case for some children with situation specific behaviour issues.

Outside my home was easy. School was a refuge, a place where the rules were clear. You behaved properly, were respectful, did all your schoolwork and the adults not only liked you, but wrote beautiful words about how you were a pleasure to teach. I did the same things at home, but in that environment I was instead defective, disgusting and needed to be regularly punched and all manners of physical, verbal and emotional abuse.

I have figured out several things now about myself as a Differentiated Child.

1. That my parents used me as their emotional and physical punching bag. Whatever emotions they chose not to take responsibility for themselves, they took out on me. Why me, and not one of my four siblings, I assume I will never know the answer to that question.

2. That I did not deserve any of the physical assaults, the neglect or the emotional and verbal abuse I endured. As an adult Differentiated Child survivor, I have now finally separated myself from many of the brainwashing effects, enough almost to see the ridiculousness of ever thinking I did deserve it. Looking back, at the raw facts - as Dr. Phil might say, with his litmus logic test: is it true; does it serve my best interest; does it protect and prolong my health; - I was a very polite child, a respectful child, a good girl, that everyone outside my home seemed to like and someone always entrusted with responsibility beyond my age. How much of that character was created in response to my circumstances and how much was nature I do not know. But I know this, whereas while outside my home I had, from childhood to adulthood, authority after authority attest to my character by word, document or award, inside my home I was deserving and warranted regular abuse, even though I was in fact the same person.

3. That I have never had any desire to be a mother, because of the abuse. By that I mean, that I felt no interest in being a mother, no biological desire to carry a baby or to raise a child, things that all my girlfriends seemed to have always had. I have spent my life working with children and yet never felt one single moment of wanting to be a mother, until very recently, not one. Certainly, every woman has at least one moment I told myself regularly? Person after person attempted to convince me that I would change my mind. At one point, I seriously considered whether I had some chemical missing in my makeup as a girl that facilitated that biological drive. I Googled that as well, to no avail. Then one day, I had one of those Oprah defined light bulb moments. It was quick, subtle and quite soft, not at all loud, scary, frightening or even upsetting. It just came, like a truth that had reached its way out of my gut, from where it had been hiding for decades, just when my soul decided I was ready. I had never wanted to be a mother because I was afraid I would be my mother to a child.

4. That there were signs, that any of you looking out for Differentiated Children could see. From childhood to adulthood, without exception, every friend and boyfriend that walked through my life asked me in one way or another one of two things: ‘why does your mother hate you so much’ and ‘why does your mother treat you so differently from your brothers and sisters’?. Never once did I ever say anything bad about my mother to anyone of these people. I was in denial about these truths until recently and unconsciously I did not want anyone to know. It was self-preservation. My friends’ observations arose simply from being part of my life.

5. That my reading about the details of differentiation, revealed by the siblings of Jeffrey Baldwin to their foster mother, after Jeffrey’s death by abuse, saved me. I like to give credit to Jeffrey Baldwin for that.

CBC, The Fifth Estate, Interview with Jeffrey Baldwin's siblings' foster mother

For the first time, I realized I was not all of the hateful things I had been labeled. I did not deserve or warrant regular abuse. I was a Differentiated Child, just as he was, and while he paid with his life for the abuse he endured, the process of separating the children into acceptable and unacceptable was the same. The Differentiated treatment was the same.

I now know, with gratitude, that I am not only not my mother, but I am in fact nothing like her, something I think may be a miracle.

My mother is cold, cruel, insincere, a compulsive liar (I considered the possibility of pathological at one point) and incredibly abusive. Trying to get my mother to take responsibility for anything and I mean literally anything that she has done or to tell the truth is like trying to pin Jell-O to a wall. These are strong and hateful words; I realize this. This is the first and perhaps last time I will ever utter or write them. As someone who was regularly called abusive names by my mother, it feels sinfully hypocritical to write that. However, as a wise therapist once said to me, if it is true, then it is not abuse. I understand that my mother has not been all these things to everyone she has encountered in her life, though she did manage to scare everyone from small children to burly construction workers. She was all those things to me.

While it has not been that long since I was asked by a therapist to effectively say something good about myself and could think of nothing, I can say now, albeit uncomfortably, that I am warm, gentle, sincere, honest (maybe even in response to my mom’s lack of truthfulness which always made me very uncomfortable) and have never even raised my voice to a child. I also have many faults, just like anyone else.

All that being said, I still fear that there is something inside me, something that will live what it has learned. Therefore, I remain childless at this time. But I am dreaming of children, for the first time in my life.

Sage Spencer

Next blogum: October 2008