Memory Dissection: A Statue, My Father, and a Camera

LITERATURE AND REVOLUTION BY FEMINIST PEOPLE

The Victim

The bronze statue looked almost alive—a young girl, life-sized, or nearly. Her small breasts and slim hips placed her at the start of puberty, around twelve or thirteen—we were about the same age. Her mouth was open in a perfect oval. I have looked extensively online, but I find no record of this statue anywhere. Perhaps the fact that she is untraceable, nameless, and lost to me makes her more poignant, like a commentary on young faceless women waiting to be victimized.

The Incident

My father was attending a conference for the American Academy of Pediatrics in Washington, DC, and my brother and I joined him. Dad liked photography and carried a camera bag everywhere he went, which he called his “purse.” It contained his Olympus camera, wallet, sunglasses, stethoscope, a complete first-aid kit, including pre-threaded sterile needles for emergency stitches, and an empty can of Spam to use as a prop. He liked to pose his subjects.

We came across the statue in an outdoor garden, somewhere near the Smithsonian strip by the Mall. There were no guards or docents to protect her, no security cameras or alarms, not even a “Do Not Touch” sign. As if she were asking for it. My father pulled his camera from his bag and he asked me to cup the statue’s breasts and stick my tongue into her open mouth. I refused. He mocked my prudishness. I felt dirty, bad, vulnerable.

An Interesting Aside

After my mother and father divorced, my mother remarried a woman. After he and his next wife divorced, she also chose the companionship of women. The fact that two out of his six ex-wives are now lesbians wounds my father. I find this inexplicable. They did not leave him for women, they left him because of his infidelity. What came afterwards is not his concern. I don’t know why it bothers him so much.

Fearless Girl

A bronze statue of a young defiant girl by Kristen Visbal was installed on the International Day of Women opposite the famous Wall Street Bull. A man in a business suit humped the statue and was caught on film, spurring public outrage and condemnation of rape culture. Some men, including my father, feel a stir around frozen, voiceless girls. Some men rub the bull’s testicles for luck. It seems to be about what you can get away with.

The Healing Journey

A statue, after all, has no feelings to protect, no ability to call for help, doesn’t bruise and sheds no tears. Molesting a statue is not a crime. It just feels like one.