I was a late bloomer. This meant that while other girls were getting their periods, going on dates and talking with their friends about babies and sex, I was playing Legos with my younger cousins. I didn’t even get my period until I was sixteen years old, and though I had sex-ed many years before, in sixth grade, my memory of the things we talked about was hazy at best. I understood that babies came from sex, but I didn’t know the first thing about arousal, or masturbation, or sexual harassment.
When my first boyfriend put his penis in my hand, I simply said, “Oh.” I froze on the spot. I remembered the anatomy, but for the life of me, I couldn’t understand what it was that he wanted me to do. Afterward, he broke up with me and moved on to some other girl that was willing to give him “action.” This course of events has followed me my whole life. It was the first – but not the last- time that a guy sexually harassed me.
As life progressed, I forgot about the incident. I remained focused on my schoolwork while other girls were actively engaging in sex. Teenage pregnancies and diseases ran rampant through my hometown, and it seemed like everyone was susceptible. Guys seemed to have total control of the school, and they used that to their advantage whenever possible. I’ve had my ass grabbed while walking down the hall. I’ve had guys watch me undress from the doorway of the girls’ locker room. I’ve been pushed up against a wall and groped as a guy shoved his tongue down my throat. I’d simply blush, mortified, and wait for them to finish. I didn’t understand that moments like these were sexually charged harassment.
In college, the boys seemed to get more aggressive in their pursuits of sexual relationships. I held tight to my virginity, waiting for “true love,” or as close to it as I could get. Guys just couldn’t seem to take a hint. My college roommate was highly sexually active and had guys over all the time. These guys would always bring friends that I’d have to entertain while my roommate was “busy.” The ass grabbing became more aggressive. The making out lead to heavy petting. I learned the word “no” and “stop” very quickly, but these words were empty buckets, having little to no meaning to guys who thought they knew my body better than I did. Even the first time I had sex, the word “NO” held no power to my partner. I was drunk and pleading for a way out and he simply held my arms back and forced himself into me. I didn’t know this could be considered rape.
My whole life I’ve walked around with this cautious smile, trying to keep my dignity intact as I ran through this obstacle course full of danger. I’ve lived in a man’s world where my opinion held no value and I was only worthy if my body was capable of bringing pleasure to the opposite sex. It’s time for this form of thinking to be destroyed. It’s time for women to start standing up for ourselves and to take action against the men who have held us down our entire lives.
From this day forward, I make a promise to myself that I will no longer be treated as an object in a man’s world. From this day forward, I will answer only to my name. From this day forward, those roaming hands that I’ve had to fight off my whole life will result in broken fingers if they touch me. From this day forward, my body belongs to me, and sexual harassment will no longer be tolerated.
