A crowded subway car, me in light-airy mediterranean pants, and some guy thought it was his prerogative to touch my ass. At first I thought it was just the tight quarters and an accidental graze. However, as the ride went on, I realized it was intentional. I'd always envisioned myself as some kind of a hero in a moment like this, defensive and vocal. After I exited the subway, heart pounding, I went back to my hostel only to turn and leave on the bus headed to the airport to leave Rome. I sat down on the bus, and that's when it set in. I'd had no control over the situation; I didn't speak the language, I was an obvious tourist and I was trapped in that metro car with someone taking advantage of my body, whom I couldn't even see. On the bus ride to the airport, I cried because my body was used without my permission for the gratification of another.
No one should ever be made out to be merely a commodity for their body.
Sure, the metro was uncomfortable and I was violated, but last night my #metoo got even more real...
Apparently by the third date a guy can push a woman's boundaries and do things she didn't agree to. I won't go into detail because it isn't anyone's business whom I don't choose to tell, but my body was a commodity; something to be used, in spite of my requests, in spite of my voicing of discomfort and pain, in spite of my "no's". I didn't realize it until I left that something felt off and yet I felt relief the moment I stepped outside. I wondered to myself as I drove home feeling a little numb, was I just sexually assaulted?
When I settled into my bed, icing my neck to hopefully reduce the appearance of three large, unwanted, protested hickeys, it hit me the answer was 'yes'. The quiet little strange feeling I had was from being cornered, being stuck in a situation where I felt powerless and weak. I'd generally consider myself a strong, independent woman who doesn't live much of life guided by fear. Still, I found myself in a scenario where I was not being respected and I was incapable of rendering a different outcome. Afraid. Intimidated. Scared. There aren't even many times in my life I've actually felt scared. So, as I laid there with a bag of frozen food on my neck, I cried.
All thanks to the guy who was self-proclaimed "different from the rest." I'd liked him because he was happy-go-lucky and talkative, he'd voiced how he cried easily at movies, he even made me a delicious dinner. That guy made me feel afraid and ignored my "ow" and "ouch" and "no" and "don't". That guy thought he could text me something cute today about how he gave me three large hickeys (never mind that it was clearly against my will), which I had to cake in concealer and cover in a scarf. My response was a lengthier, more convicting and educational version of "Boy, bye!"
I cried a little more this morning, but mostly at the thought of the fear that I'd had. It was something new, this experience. Getting catcalled feels like a weak threat tied to expectation of appreciating the "compliments" and it's uncomfortable; being touched without permission by a perfect stranger is a personal violation and it is frightening; but being made to feel in fear of your safety, and unable to voice the feeling in the moment, that is alarming and disgusting. Other women have been in that position and had worse, and the thought of what happened to me makes me uncomfortable and angry and scared.
I cried a little more this morning, but mostly at the thought of the fear that I'd had. It was something new, this experience. Getting catcalled feels like a weak threat tied to expectation of appreciating the "compliments" and it's uncomfortable; being touched without permission by a perfect stranger is a personal violation and it is frightening; but being made to feel in fear of your safety, and unable to voice the feeling in the moment, that is alarming and disgusting. Other women have been in that position and had worse, and the thought of what happened to me makes me uncomfortable and angry and scared.
For some reason, I felt I should write about this although I'm not entirely sure why. Maybe because we need to stop blaming women? Maybe because we need to stop saying that women are exaggerating or being "emotional"? Maybe because men need to face the reality of how much more physically powerful they are than us and not take that responsibility lightly? Maybe because women deserve more respect? All of the above.
So, #metoo.
NOTE: I don't write it to be asked about it. I don't write it for sympathy. But if it should help someone feel like their experience is valid and they should tell someone, or seek help for processing a sexual assault, that I wrote it for.
So, #metoo.
NOTE: I don't write it to be asked about it. I don't write it for sympathy. But if it should help someone feel like their experience is valid and they should tell someone, or seek help for processing a sexual assault, that I wrote it for.
