Mommy's Mental Health - Chapter 104 - The Life of a Biker "Bitch"

Wow but the stories keep on flowing as I remember bits and pieces of my life that were just so wrong. This year, for #16DaysOfActivismAgainstGenderBasedViolence I am going to try to post something. It might be a video, a photo or a blog, but there is just so much.
So, today's story is about being in love with the leader of the pack. And what it meant to be "the bitch" that "belonged" to the president of a bike club.
I loved the bike scene. This was a time in my life where everything changed. I was still technically an underaged teen to start, but I spent 8 years living with this man, 5 of these years, deep within the biking scene.

I loved bike rallies. The smell of burning rubber, the sound of hundreds of bikes redlining and the palpable excitement in the air. It was a life so far away from who I'd left behind and the life I abandoned, I don't think I cold have run faster or hard enough towards it.
I was gorgeous.
I loved the attention. I loved being popular (so much so that I often outranked my partner-which made him so angry- and unlike most of the other girlfriends or wives, I was allowed to join boy's nights and take part in initiation parties of new club members, fresh out of "appy-ship."
My uniform was fishnet stockings, a black skirt WAY to short, so much black eyeliner and spikes, my leather jacket, helmet and denim offcuts.
There was a seedy dark underbelly to this world and I was strongly at risk, This was not a place safe for any woman, venturing into a world where girls were nothing but property and breaking all the fucking rules.

I was at a point n my life where I wouldn't let anyone tell me what I could or couldn't do: especially because I was just a girl. I was trailblazer, a wild-child and nobody put this baby in a corner... until I needed help.

One night, I even remember exactly what I was wearing: My black leather pants and a white top. It was a very dressed down evening for me. We were out at our favourite biker bar playing pool when a particularly INFAMOUS bike club came in through the doors. Everyone fell to their knees - hypothetically, as these "celebrities" of the biker world took over the pub and the night. I remember a horrible incident where I was shoved up against a wall near the bathrooms and told I was a hot piece of meat and that they could take whatever they wanted from me. I told my partner, who did not only chicken out of standing up for me or protecting me, or even offering to take me somewhere safe. He said I invited it. By my personality and what I was wearing, I asked for it. I was shaking. I was terrified. It was my friend who was manning the mar that night who took me under his wing an kept me behind the bar until it was all over.
I also remember what was my 2nd last bike rally. My best friend and I got fed up with our boyfriends and decided to go and play pool at the beer hall a little way off from our tent site. Girls were NEVER supposed to go ANYWHERE alone unless they were CLEARY marked as "property of a club." The danger was easy to forget as I would often make my way to and from the main beer tent to our camp site, to the toilets or to try to find my boyfriend and at every campsite I walked through, my steel rally cup was filled with whatever booze was in their cups, or drank straight out of what ever bottle of booze they had passing around. Saying no was rude. It was bike rally etiquette.
And while you could leave your wallet completely unattended, sexual assault and violence was rife at these "festivals."
So back to that night, my friend and I left our camp site and went to g and play pool at one of the beer halls on the campsite.
We found the pool tables at the back of the bar, just out of sight of any witnesses, after handing in our leathers to the bar keep so we didn't have to lug them around while playing pool. A group of young biers came in. They put their coins down on the table and said they wanted to go a few rounds with us. No one could see us. No one would hear us scream and God knows how long it would have taken our boyfriends to even notice we were missing.
Our stomachs sank as we realized what was happening, as we panicked, looking for a way out.
Thank fuck, the bar keeper saw what was happening and had taken note of our "branded" offcuts, and contacted the vice-president of the rally's hosting club (who was way scarier than the actual president - but not to us. To us, he was "Pops").
These young men were brand new to to the scene and had no idea who we were. They thought gang raping us on the pool table would earn them "street cred."
The doors burst open at the last moment and there stood Pops in the doorway pointing his gun at the would be assailants.
What if no one had recognized us? What if we were just to chicks?
I still shudder at the thought.
Thank god for our iron- and leatherclad clad Angel who saved us that night.
#boyswillalwaysbeboys #16DaysOfActivismAgainstGenderBasedViolence #nowhereissafe #escapedwithourlives #menwhoprotect #whatwereyouwearing #victimshaming #breakthesilence #mystory #mylife #mysurvival