#MeToo

In lieu of the recent Harvey Weinstein sexual assault testimonials, the hashtag #MeToo has surfaced as the silver lining to a series of harassments that have taken a toll on countless aspiring actresses and household names alike. I say silver lining because it’s a beautiful thing when people can join together and start a dialogue to rise up against the bullshit. Bullshit that too many women have come to accept as the norm in their professional and personal lives. Bullshit that too many women have remained silent about for years out of fear of slander and shame. I say silver lining because there is power in numbers. I say silver lining because maybe if we’re all loud enough about our stories of sexual objectification, harassment, and assault it won’t continue to be the norm in the future.

As girls, we are raised to fear men. We don’t have a conscious memory of when we first learned that men were a threat, but it’s something we’ve inherently known since about 2 years old. We know not to take candy from a stranger, not to believe there’s a puppy in his car, and never to let go of our bike if he pulls up beside us on our way home.

By fearing men we can actively try to avoid being harmed by them. We are taught this by our mothers, our aunts, and our grandmothers who all have horror stories of their own. If we can make it through life unscathed we will never have to feel the humiliation of remaining silent, or the shame of speaking up and being accused of lying. Our main goal is to avoid harassment, assault, rape, murder. We know from a young age if we fail to protect ourselves they will win. It will be our words against their’s and they will win.

As women, we are always supposed to be aware of our surroundings, and largely that just means the men around us. We are conditioned to meet advances and sexual suggestions with a giggle and a roll of our eyes. We are conditioned to be polite, demure, silent. We are conditioned to believe that if we raise our voice we will be labeled crazy, attention-starved, slutty.

We all have memories that we meet with dull annoyance: a man coaxing you to drink with him when you are only 13 and calling you a “fucking liar” when you tell him your age. We all have memories that leave us awake at night wondering how we too fell prey when we always knew to be cautious, protect our drinks, never take shortcuts. We are the 1 in 3. We wonder if the statistics aren’t even higher, it seems difficult to find a woman without a truth of her own. As subtle or as severe, the effect has been the same: we have been made to feel worthless.

I am anxious about new social scenarios and eating alone, but nothing makes me as anxious as men.

A man follows you out of the parking lot in his truck. Hope it’s just a coincidence, even though you watched him eye you and grotesquely lick his lips as you got into your car.
A man begins to walk closely behind you on the street. Grab out your phone, hover your fingers above the 9 and the 1. Tighten your fist around your keys. Tell yourself you can run. Tell yourself you can fight.

A man walks up to you in a store, his voice is honey-sweet as he tells you “You’re a beautiful woman, I just thought you should know”. You hate yourself as you mutter a high-pitched “Thank you” and spend longer in the store than necessary, hoping he won’t be down the next aisle, hoping he won’t be waiting for you outside.

Men pull up beside you in their car. Hold your breath. Avoid eye contact. Why is the light taking so god damn long to change? You can feel their eyes on you and you hope they won’t yell something at you. And then, when they do yell something at you and drive away you let out a sigh of relief because at least they stayed in their vehicle. Your heart is racing and you’re beginning to sweat from a mix of panic and humiliation — but you are OK.

We all know of a woman who hasn’t been okay. Perhaps you’ve been her, too. Perhaps you have first-hand knowledge of how fragile you are by the bruises he’s left on you. By the helplessness you’ve felt as he yells that he’ll kill himself if you tell. By the pride he’s stolen in a backseat only to be defended later by people you grow to hate. “He’s a good guy … You wouldn’t want to fuck up his life.”

As if your life wasn’t fucked up by him.

Perhaps you feel as if there’s nowhere to go as each day you read a story about yet another woman who’s courageously spoken up only to be squashed, demeaned by the courts who more times than not seem to stand by those pricks with their smarmy smirks. Perhaps you hate yourself a little more each day as you walk down the street nervous, even though no one is following, no one has shouted anything, no one has slowed down their car and met you with a stare that makes you despise your body. Even on days where no one has made you feel uncomfortable you still remain on edge. You don’t get your hopes up because letting your guard down is dangerous.

I am so sick of this air of threat. I want to feel strong. I want to feel safe. I want to fight. I want all of my fellow women to know that they are not alone. I hear you. I believe you. Me too.