Wounded Creatures

Photo copyright Wings, 2015; all rights reserved.

Just because we look like this now doesn't mean that that stripped,  flayed being isn't still hiding inside.

It also doesn't mean that that being owes anyone in particular any particular thing, within that "anyone"'s particular frameworks.

I just got a painful reminder of that for my owndamnself. Seems some other folks elsewhere could use one, too.

When you work with horses, you know never to run up on one without making your presence known. That goes double for horses who've been abused. Make that animals, actually. Or better yet, creatures, or beings. Of any sort and species. 

Because, you see, PTSD is a thing. It's a thing for horses, every bit as much as for people (and for dogs, too). And it affects how they respond to any given stimulus.

How we respond.

We were out with the horses. Wings had asked for my help in moving a panel; that done, I went up to each of the horses in turn, as I pretty much always do when out there. I'm not so stupid as to do it silently, from behind; I know well what these animals are capable of, even when there's absolutely zero intent to hurt anyone or anything. 

After Shade, Ice, and Cree in turn, I approached Miskwaki, eating out of a wall trough. It was the second or third time in the last couple of hours, and he was well aware of my presence out there. And, of course, I spoke to him first, as always, so that I wouldn't surprise him unnecessarily.

And then he spooked. Hard.

Jumped, wheeled, kicked. From an angle and distance and at a rate of speed you wouldn't have thought possible. And his hoof caught me squarely in the right thigh, the front tip grazing my ankle as he came down bucking and pitching.

I'm lucky. An inch lower, and I'd probably be in the emergency room right now with my femur snapped in half. Despite my health issues, I also seem to have unusually strong bones, for which I thank all that's sacred every day.

But there's damage. And I'll be feeling it for a few weeks, at least.

Miskwaki certainly never meant to hurt me. He wasn't even trying to hurt me, or anyone or anything else. It was a wholly unthinking response, a visceral reaction to a sudden sensory shock that shot him back with all the force of a bullet to that place in his past where he was himself purposely and purposefully damaged.

It was a reaction; nothing more.

But it was a reminder to me that, no matter how careful I think I'm being, I always have to keep in mind that what seems perfectly innocuous to me, and even to the other horses, may indeed look to him like Fear and Pain coming for him again, escorts of Death. I had a less painful reminder only last week, when he ran from me instead of letting me halter him — and I realized, once again, that in addition to having my dark hair tied up, I had on dark-lensed sunglasses. One of his triggers, for reasons we understand only too well.

And now, acting in all innocence, with nothing but good intent, I sent him back to a place that is very dark. And it blew back on me, and yes, I will be feeling the afterburn for a very long time.

It's not his fault; it's not my fault; it just is. And that changes exactly nothing. 

Repairs have to be made, to both of us. He will now need reassurance that I do not blame him, and another round of added desensitization. And I won't be able to do much of that until I've repaired the damage to myself, sufficiently, at least, to allow me to walk around out there again steadily. 

But see, here's the thing: I need to fix myself. It's not his responsibility. Trying to make it his responsibility (pointless with an animal, but we're speaking now in metaphor) victimizes him twice over again. At least.

People could learn some lessons.

Postscript: For those who need it spelled out, here it is: The metaphor refers not to any idea that those who have been marginalized or otherwise injured are in some way irreparably damaged and everyone must therefore be wary of unleashing a reactionary response. That's not it. AT ALL. Rather, it refers to the fact that when someone occupying a position of relative privilege further marginalizes, erases, or otherwise injures a member of a marginalized population, intentionally or not, the person engaging in the behavior is the one responsible for the damage, INCLUDING any blowback to herself (or himself). It's about not shifting blame onto victims. And, yes, this refers to some very specific incidents, some of which are playing out online as I write this, but also to the entire set of dominant culture dynamics in this society.

All content, including photos and text, are copyright Wings and Aji, 2015; all rights reserved. Nothing herein may used or reproduced in any form without the express written permission of the owner.