A couple years ago there was a big deal thrown about this campaign called #yesallwomen. It was made to show that all women are made to feel like sexual objects. 1 in 4 are raped or assaulted. There was a counterargument that not all men are like this, and that men go through rape and assault too. I agree with that statement as well, but it doesn't take away the validity of my experiences. I made a post on facebook and took it down the next day. Since then I have been sexually assaulted at a party, been divorced, and been to therapy. I have been made to feel uncomfortable teaching. It's not just me being overly sensitive. This stuff and worse happens to every woman every day. I don't let it control my life, and I don't ask for sympathy (May your Gods help you if you try and feel sorry for me) but I feel like now is the time to repost it. I don't do it for me, but so that other women know they aren't alone. Being raped is a ghost that haunts you for life. Society makes you feel like it's your fault for not being cautious enough. I am cautious. I've been there before, and these betrayals of trust still happen to me. For the women out there who are scared of themselves and their own experiences, you are not alone. It isn't your fault. Getting professional help dealing with my experiences is the best thing I have ever done.
"I'm not sure how much this #yesallwomen is functional, but I want to state, for solidarity sake that I was raped twice by a person I loved. I still have problems talking about it. I'm afraid for two reasons. 1: that he'll find out I told about it and he'll be angry and hurt me, or it will ruin him when he's already deeply sorry for his actions and has made up for his mistakes by being a better person (a deep hope I have) 2: That people's thoughts will echo a deep-seated fear that I harbor, a thought that several people have vocalized, that it's my fault. I should have walked away from the relationship to begin with. I should have walked away the first time. I should have walked away the second.
I told him I wanted to wait till I was 16 to kiss. He threatened suicide if I didn't. I had to pry a knife out of his hands to keep him from killing himself because I wouldn't kiss him.
I told him I wanted to wait till I was 18 to have sex. He couldn't respect that. I think what bothers me more than anything is that he had the nerve to cry after. He wanted to be held after. I hate myself for obliging.
I've had people tell me it's my fault. I told him no. I set boundaries that weren't respected. It was my fault for putting myself in a situation where they could be discounted.
About half the time I still believe them.
If you know his name, please don't say it. Out of respect for me, keep it to yourselves. The only reason I tell this story anymore is so that other girls out there know that they aren't alone. So that those girls will speak up and get help. I do it so the boys who are dating don't rape their girlfriends because they see that 10 years later they still hurt. I do for awareness.
I wore baggy cloths a lot up till I graduated college because I didn't appreciate being gawked at. I didn't like it. I wanted to blend in and not stand out. It still happened. I still got catcalled and leered at. Mom always asked me why I didn't take pride in my appearance. She asked me why I didn't want to be pretty. I didn't want to be a thing to look at. I hate that I had to wear baggy clothes like armor so that I had a chance of being seen as a real person and not an object.
More recently I was out with my kid brother, and 2 men sitting around with their children leered at me the whole time, like I was there for their viewing pleasure, and not to help my brother with his own high school hells.
I was substitute teaching with another sub, and he spent the time we should have been focusing on the students, trying to get with me.
I got catcalled in Home Depot while picking up spray glue for weapons. I was there for spray glue, not to put myself on display for the benefit of men.
I once avoided going into a flea market alone in daylight, in a decent part of town, because there was a group of men near the entrance checking me out like I was a piece of fruit in the produce department. I was afraid they would rape me.
I had a man follow me in a truck while I was walking in a parking lot trying to get my number and was only deterred when I said that I was involved.
I don't care about me. I'm strong enough now to handle it because I've lived it. I don't want sympathy. I want action to help make sure other girls don't get raped. I want action so that other girls don't have to hide themselves if they don't want. I don't want words, really. I want action.
I want BOTH men and women to stand up and correct people when they see something wrong. I want people to stand up for their fellow man.This isn't a woman's issue. This isn't a man's issue. It's a people issue.
No matter where it got its origins, the stories posted with that weird hashtag are too important to ignore. They paint a not so idyllic picture of our society. It gives us a moment to step back, think about the whys, and then start to work fixing. There is no blame on my end. I don't blame men. I do see this as an opportunity to look at our culture with a magnifying glass and tweak another aspect of this until we find something perfect."
((And yes, I am still behind on the times. I still don't know how hashtags work))
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