I rarely write about anything that is trending in this great world of ours (is that sarcasm?) because I like to stay out of things as a general rule of thumb.
I don’t enjoy being controversial or putting in my two cents on subjects that other people seem to be total experts on. My creative writing teacher in high school told us kids that we should always write what we know. I’ve taken her advice ever since.
Unfortunately, I know a whole fucking bunch about sexual harassment and sexual assault.
You’ve probably heard about that slime ball Harvey Weinstein and his decades long enjoyment of taking sexual advantage of Hollywood actresses. They are coming out of the woodwork, especially Rose McGowan, who claims that Weinstein raped her.
I believe her. Why would she lie about something like that? What can she possibly gain by telling people via Twitter about such an atrocity? (The jab at Twitter has nothing to do with Rose, I just loathe Twitter with the passion of a thousand suns.)
I can relate to her story because I was date raped at the drive-in when I was 19.
I had gone out with the guy only once before, so I questioned myself afterward about it. If I told anyone about what had happened to me, would they wrinkle up their noses and say, “well, what did you expect? Alone in a car with some dude you barely know!”
I was asking for it, wasn’t I? Even the guy who raped me said that the entire time, over and over again.
I only told a couple of my close girlfriends at the time about it. I wanted to tell my mom, but I was afraid of her reaction. I was so ashamed. I thought that she would also be ashamed.
When I did tell her a couple of years later, she said that she was sorry I had experienced something so despicable and that was that. I got a hug. I know that she was uncomfortable, because her generation, for the most part, didn’t discuss such matters.
How did I cope with it? Well, I set myself on the path of completely blocking the emotions behind the rape. To this day, I can talk about it quite indifferently, so numbly that even my therapist is blown away at my detachment.
Sexual harassment has dotted my life, like so many other woman that I know.
If we go way back, I was teased by the boys because I was the first girl in the 3rd grade that needed to wear a bra. They called me Dolly Parton and would pretend that they were jiggling breasts on themselves, while they laughed and pointed at something that I had no control of.
I was asked by a 14-year-old altar boy friend if I wanted to have sex with him. I was 13 and terrified. After that day, I avoided him.
I was harrassed on an almost daily basis by an older, disgusting man who worked at the gas station only 2 houses down from the house that I grew up in. He’d sit inside his little cashier box, watching me while I’d walk over to the pop machine to get a Mountain Dew.
“Hey there, sexy legs! Why don’t you come over and say hi?”
I was 17, maybe 18.
He gave me the creeps. If I needed a pack of smokes or a candy bar, he’d wink at me through the glass, saying inappropriate things the entire time. I’d just roll my eyes and force an annoyed smile, trying to hurry him up so that I could get back to my house.
My ex forced me to do sexual things with him that I did not want to do. That is something that I can’t really talk about.
I’ve had one of my friends husbands sexually proposition me, the last time on my wedding day. I’ve thankfully never had to see him again, on purpose.
On Monday, I saw that Alyssa Milano had started the Twitter hashtag #MeToo. Then I noticed many of my female Facebook friends putting it as their own statuses.
I didn’t even hesitate.
If all the women who have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote “Me too” as a status, we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.
This problem is lurking in every corner, every bar, every blog post (yep) and on every tree-lined suburban street. I’ve seen young girls walking along innocently, then witnessing a man honking their car horn at them.
I’ve seen it my entire life. I am a walking, talking, pissed the fuck off survivor. I’m tired of it and I will no longer “roll my eyes” or brush it off. Just because I may lightly flirt with men sometimes doesn’t mean that I want to have a sexual relationship with them.
I am not asking for it, nor do I know that I really want it.
I have a handful of guy friends, mostly online, who I feel 100% comfortable with, so this isn’t a “man hater” post. Please don’t bother to come at me in the comments with that happy horseshit, because it ain’t gonna fly.
And ladies…I invite you to type “Me Too” down below in the comments if you’ve ever been the victim of uninvited sexual advances. This blog is a safe place.
You don’t even need to use the hashtag if you don’t want to.