Hello All! I have decided to embark on this blogging journey to hold myself accountable. I want to shake off the old and dusty me, and transform into the person I was meant to be. But as this is the beginning of a story, and every beginning comes from some other story’s end, I figure I should share with you what I have been up against the past four years. My South Dakota journey has been long and arduous, but it has transformed me and opened my eyes to things I could not believe.
Four years ago I moved out to South Dakota for my first “big girl” job. My journey to South Dakota was one filled with dreams and aspirations. It was clear to me that God wanted me to go out to South Dakota for some grand purpose or another. I was cool with it. I figured I would make lots of new and wonderful friends, and I would find my soul mate and we would fall deeply in love, then I would get promoted and move to a more metropolitan area. Of course, I expected to do all of this over the course of two years maximum.
My dreams and aspirations could not have been further from the reality of my time in South Dakota. I arrived in South Dakota, a confident 23 year old woman, ready to take on the world. However, I was immediately challenged by the locals, “Why don’t you have any kids yet?!” “You’ll be popping out a baby in no time!” “You don’t need to be married to have kids, ya know.” They made it clear, I do not belong. However, I persisted. I tried my hardest to make new friends, but mostly to no avail. I made a small handful of friends, who I love and adore more than anything, but it’s not quite the same as having hundreds of friends back home. I never did find the love of my life; however, I did grow to love myself more.
I know it was God who brought me out here, but I feel I have gotten to know the Devil better in my time out here. I have witnessed first hand, people being openly racist without a care. It killed me. I have always loved learning about other cultures, and I find Native American history and culture quite fascinating, but coming here brand new and immediately hearing the locals talk about “The Natives,” was heartbreaking. I never really did get to learn in-depth about the local Native American culture here, mostly because the racial tension was so thick it could be cut with a knife, and I didn’t want my ignorance and thirst for knowledge and understanding to come off as disrespectful.
Where racism exists in America, so does its nasty cousin, sexism. Of course, before moving out to South Dakota, I had experienced sexism, but let me tell you, it was not to the degree it is out here. I should have picked up on it right away, when dating either lead to men talking down to me or men immediately being surprised by my mental capacity. Also, the occasional first date, where the man started planning out our wedding and how many children I would bare for him (seriously, it did happen, on a first date, talk about scary). These characteristics, I ought to have known, should have screamed “SOUTH DAKOTA HAS A DOMESTIC VIOLENCE PROBLEM!!!!!!!”
I did not personally witness the icy grip of domestic violence on the ones around me until perhaps a year after my arrival. I had been told about the young lady who had been stabbed in the parking lot of a local business by her former significant other a few months before I had arrived, but I had written it off as an exception. The closer I got with my coworkers, the more I heard their stories. “Im scared of him,” “He won’t let me go out,” “Let me get permission,” “I don’t know what to do,” “He hurt me,” “Oh, these bruises, yeah, I don’t know how I got them, don’t worry, I’m a klutz.”
Then I had the pleasure of working with Jess Rehfeld. If you are not from the area, you probably do not know who she is, which is a shame. She was an amazing and wonderful young lady. Her story should have made Dateline. She unfortunately had been dating a scumbag. He was abusive and manipulative. She feared for her life, and had asked for our advice. She loved coming to work, because it was her safe place. Then she disappeared. She went missing. Sure, the cops investigated it, but then, on the words of her abuser’s friends, assumed she had moved to Florida. Her family was distraught, they came in to ask if we knew anything or had any leads they could send over to the police. Sadly, we were also grasping at straws. A year later, the truth that we all knew was true, but didn’t want to believe came out, she had been murdered by people payed off by her boyfriend. The cops will not pursue justice for abused women out here in South Dakota. The only time they care about you is when you are dead.
I have another story to share, this time I shall edit the name of this person, we shall call her Emily. Emily was dating a man who was in the Air Force (there is a base nearby, called Ellsworth AFB). This man held her hostage, took away all forms of communication she had to the outside world, threatened and beat her, threatened and beat her dogs, raped her, and did other nefarious things to her that I know she does not wish me to know, and I am scared to know. I sprung her out of that house and that relationship. Then together, we had turned in hundreds of pages of documentation of everything that happened, including photographs with time stamps, to the cops. We reported it at the end of April, and it is now September and the cops have done absolutely nothing, but inform the man that she dare speak out. He retaliated and got even more violent, repeatedly stalked her, repeatedly broke into her home, stole and butchered one of her dogs, threatened her kids, drained her bank accounts, and stole her identity by opening up several credit cards in her name and maxing them out. He still is harassing her by attempting to hack into her phone and social media accounts. I am sure he is possessed by some demon or perhaps even Satan himself. I did not know evil until I came to South Dakota.
When I came to South Dakota, I was a mess. I did not know who I was. I did not know my purpose in life. I didn’t even like myself.
Now I am leaving South Dakota, and it seems as if my life is a bit of a mess. But I am ok with that. If getting messy is apart of the creative process, then perhaps it’s also apart of getting your life back on track. I have regained my relationship with God since moving out here. I love myself, and I have a sense of purpose in what my life is supposed to be like.
However, there is the magical question of how I go from here to where I am supposed to be. I cannot, in good conscience, just move on and forget about my experiences in South Dakota. There is a real serious problem there, and it needs to change. And unfortunately, I truly believe in the saying, “Be the change you want to see in the world.” I cannot in good conscience leave South Dakota without attempting to help future generations of women and children in these circumstances. However, I am at a loss on how to accomplish it. I have tried writing editorials, writing the mayor, chief of police, and Sheriff. My editorial struck a strong chord with many, but the mayor and other officials made sure to set me in my place and tell me that I know naught of what I speak. I tried reaching out to my local chapter of NOW, but they were concentrating on other issues. World, tell me, where do I go from here without losing my mind???
Until Next Time,
Carolynski Marie
Carolynski Marie 