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In essay revealing he was raped at age 8, novelist Junot Diaz shines light on male sexual assault

Source: Chicago Tribune / Getty

When news broke around Junot Díaz on Twitter Friday morning, none of it came as a surprise. Author Carmen Maria Machado went public with her story about Díaz’s oppressive, dismissive behavior when she asked questions about the toxic masculinity he perpetuates in his storytelling. This prompted many other women to come forward with their own stories of the misogynistic behavior and sexual assault that occurred at his hands.

As a young Latinx journalist, I have heard plenty of similar stories surrounding the man we all lauded for his “raw” and “honest” pen game from fellow Latinx women in media. A multitude of stories filled the space of the Pulitzer Prize-winning author invading one college student’s personal space, or throwing in a seemingly off and inappropriate comment after a young fan expressed her adoration of his work.

Some of us even joked about it, saying he’s “just like every other creepy Dominican uncle.” These are the ways in which our familiar trauma manifests itself, a Stockholm Syndrome our community disguises as love and respect for our elders.

In Black and Brown culture, it quickly becomes intrinsic nature for women to protect and uplift our men. Our own eyes bear witness to the ways in which our brothers, fathers, uncles, and male cousins are coddled from infancy to adulthood—a girl as small as 6 years old feels the skin of her shoulder stretch into a burp pad and the ghost of it never leaves her. We emotionally and physically hold men the same way our mothers did because we know no other narrative. Every defense, is a knee-jerk one, with countless excuses spilling out from our mouths, a cacophony of deafening bells to drown out any criticism. In return, they gag our truth with their wrongdoing, and we watch them climb to great heights on our backs.

In a world where we throw our daughters to the side of the road as quickly as we welcome home our prodigal sons, what more can we expect than a legion of men who know nothing of accountability? We invest in, engage, and celebrate male creators who use their abusive actions as fuel for their award-winning art while the women who labored over and for them are left with nothing but the romanticized retelling of their war stories. Our silence about the violence that we know happens in our backyards, and many times, right in front of our eyes, continues to fail them.

It’s on all of us to shift the culture and ensure that our sisters, daughters, and cousins never have to deal with the same violence with such excruciating frequency—it’s time to stop investing in the work of men who tear down women and femmes.