I thought long and hard about sharing what I am about to
share. It seems like something that so many women have gone through that I am
just another voice in the greater chorus, but I realized that, even though it’s
not something that I hide, I’m not forthcoming with the story either. When I
saw the hashtag “Me too” going around on Facebook, I posted, but I didn’t
really share my story. The truth is that it isn’t really just one incident but
a series of incidences that so many women have also experienced.
When I was in middle school, I was a chunky, smart girl with
glasses. I was also a joke to the popular guys in my class. They thought it was
funny to pretend to like me. They would say crude things to me about my boobs
(I was a DD cup by the time I was in 6th grade) and make comments
about how I probably stuffed my bra. They made me feel self-conscious about how
I looked and all I wanted to do was hide my figure under the baggiest clothes I
could find. Even if someone had honestly expressed interest in me, I wouldn’t
know it because I had become so skeptical about any guy showing me any
attention. I let their behavior towards me affect who I would be and didn’t
date until I was senior in high school.
The next incident that shaped who I would be happened in college.
I was a freshman and went out to the local bar. It was a place that was right
by campus so everyone always went there to hang out and dance on Wednesday and
Saturday nights. The place had a dance floor, and I loved to dance. This was
1998 so really the style of dance was more about grinding your body against
other people. I was a sweaty mess from dancing in a large group of people. As I
was leaving the dance floor, a football player grabbed my breasts and said
“Nice tits.” I turned around and hit him. I was then asked to leave, and he
faced no consequences for his actions which also included being drunk underage.
I was sober at the time. Now, I do have to say that this guy was also in my
Intermediate Composition class and did apologize for his behavior, but I just
accepted his apology as pretended as if everything was ok and that it was no
big deal. This was just more of my conditioning to accept any way that men
chose to behave towards me. It was just the way that it was.
Now on to the age of 22, I was a recent college graduate and
living back at home with my parents and had only had sex once before I began
dating a guy who had an alcohol problem. He would drink heavily, and he was an
angry drunk. Sometimes he would drink to the point of blacking out. It was one
such evening when we were out at one of the clubs in my hometown, and he was
clearly too drunk to drive home. It had been a nice summer evening, and my
parents’ house where I lived was only about four blocks from the club, so I had
walked down there to meet him. At the end of the night, he was too drunk to
drive home, so I took his keys and drove him to my place. My dad was working
third shift, and my mom was in bed asleep by the time we got there. We went up
to my bedroom to go to sleep; however, he had other plans. He began to kiss and
grope at me. He was very drunk and rather rough. I told him that I thought we
should just go to sleep, but he really wouldn’t take no for an answer. He tried
to have sex and held me down in my own bed. I can’t say that I was raped, but
this was really only because he was so drunk that he could not maintain an
erection. At this point, he passed out in my bed while I cried myself to sleep.
The next morning I had bruises on my arms and legs. He had no recollection of what
had happened the night before.
It was at that moment that I should have broken up with him,
but I stayed. I had convinced myself that this wasn’t a big deal. He had been
drunk, and if he was sober, this wouldn’t have happened in the first place. I
told myself that it was all my fault because I brought him home when he was
drunk. What else should I expect in terms of his behavior? Hadn’t I already
learned how drunk guys acted? As much as I tried to be ok, from that night on
any time that he would try to kiss me or touch me, my body would immediately
tense up. He became angry with me for my coldness and frigid behavior. I still
hadn’t told him what happened, but I kept apologizing that I was so tense. He
eventually broke up with me because every time he tried to be intimate I would
become so tense.
I am aware that there are some women and even men who have
experienced far worse than what I have relayed. I think that reality is what
kept me from sharing. I’ve come to realize though that these smaller incidences
are all part of the bigger problem.
So yeah, #metoo.
