I never really go to school dances, but the one time i tried it was a few months ago. i will never go again. i got dressed up as i assumed i should and felt really good about myself. i got there, met up with friends and had a great time. halfway through, we took a trip to the bathroom together (as we do), and i realized that all my friends wore shorts under their dresses. i didn’t think i needed to, because i don’t go to these kinds of events and don’t know. when i brought it up, they all looked at me as if i was crazy for not assuming i needed them. turns out i did, as i was assaulted by a kid about half an hour later. he reached under my dress, pulled at my underwear and snapped them, like someone would snap a bra strap. he laughed and tried to do it again, but i got away and got myself lost in the crowd of people. nobody saw it happen, and when i told my friends, they said, and i will never forget it, “that’s what happens when you don’t take plan and take precautions”. WHY ON EARTH IS THAT A PRECAUTION I NEEDED TO TAKE? TLDR;; I didn’t know i needed to wear shorts under dresses at school events, and got assaulted by some kid. friends said it was my fault for not planning that it would happen.
I was walking through Leicester Square in London with my female friend when I was about 25 and a man walking towards me grabbed my breast as he walked past and kept walking. I was so shocked I kept walking. I still feel angry and violated and wish I had thumped him.
I started University in the Netherlands at the age of 17 with a steady boyfriend in Germany. I was excited and unafraid, primarily because I had never recognized other negative encounters for the warnings that they were. I honestly thought that feminism wasn’t something we needed in the west anymore, because I had never felt hampered because of my sex. I never realized how sheltered I was. When I turned 18, I decided to throw a big party for the first time in my life. I wanted to let loose, to prove that I wasn’t “stuck up” and “prude,” that I could have fun. So when a friend asked if they could invite a classmate I didn’t know, I agreed without thinking twice. One by one, everyone left. The people I had asked to keep an eye out for me went home or passed out in their rooms. I was alone, more than a little drunk, with someone I didn’t know. I’d been friendly to him all evening, because I was in a social mood, so we’d chatted a bit. I told him my boyfriend lived in Germany, and he somehow took that as an invitation. He started kissing me, and I pushed him away. I told him I couldn’t do this. Somehow saying “stop, I don’t WANT this” was beyond my capabilites as a polite hostess. He persisted, reaching up and down and touching things he shouldn’t. I walked away and said I was going to stay in my friend’s room for the night, since the friend he had come with was passed out on my bed. He followed me, and while I rang her doorbell hoping against all hope that she would answer, he continued to touch me. She was passed out, and didn’t hear me. We went back to my hallway, and I said I would try another friends room. But he said “no don’t worry, I promise I’ll stop. I wont do anything you don’t want.” Being exhausted and drunk I wanted to believe him, because more than anything I wanted to go to sleep. He didn’t stop. The rest is too difficult for me to describe, even after two years of therapy for PTSD. Nowadays, I work on projects to raise awareness about sexual assault in the Netherlands and at universities in general. I’m trying to turn the worst thing to ever happen to me into something positive.
Walking with group of female friends to lunch in Bristol last Sunday. Sunny day, pleasant walk. Waiting to cross a road, suddenly several of us were drenched in cold liquid – which had been aimed squarely at us from a passing car, we assume by teenage boys. The car accelerated away as we exclaimed in surprise and anger. Luckily (?) it was nothing worse than Coke. They just wanted to hear us shriek. We spent a good few minutes cleaning off the sticky stuff from our coats, bags and faces. What a horrible experience, and what idiots to think that’s a good way to deal with a group of beautiful, strong women.
When I was a young girl I was raped. But when I explain that my rape was oral sex and fingering people refer to it as assault.
I was on a very packed train when an intoxicated guy comes on and makes his way to the back. He begins verbally harassing multiple people and unbeknown to the woman in front of him, pretends to shove his hand up her skirt. Smiling/laughing and winking at the college boys near him who start to egg him on, this guy goes to actually grab her ass and people who are much closer than I was watch as he does so with looks of disgust or indifference on their faces – ultimately don’t try and stop him! Just as he was about to grab her I smacked his hand away and said a stern “No” even though I was scared he would begin to hassle me. Luckily he looked utterly frightened (must have been my angry face) and got off on the next stop.
This only came back to me when I was 17, despite happening when I was about 6. I was at a friends house playing in her bedroom, when her older brother and a friend came in (he was 9 or 10 I think). He told his friend and his sister to hold me down whilst he “explored” my body. I remember him taking all my clothes off and basically doing whatever he liked, parting my legs, fingering me etc. . I remember screaming at his sister to let me go, but she said that he was her older brother so she had to do what he said. I can’t actually remember how long this exploration went on for. When I told mum what had happened she was angry but didn’t quite know what to do. I think she talked to the boy’s mother, but nothing ever really came of it. For years I repressed the memory, and wondered why I was scared of sex, or felt ashamed of it. I wonder how much this experience has to do with it. It took me until the age of 21 to come to terms with myself as a sexual being and be okay with that.
Another intersection of sexism and ableism… and ageism, too, really. I was out doing some grocery shopping in Lidl a couple of weeks ago, in the electric wheelchair I use, and I lifted up a mid-weight medicine cabinet I wanted to buy and propped it over my lap, on the side of my chair, without any real difficulty. I took it to the till queue, and when I moved to lift it and set it down on the conveyor belt, a man I’d never seen before in my life came up behind me and decided to “help” me with it — never asked, never even spoke to me before he did it — and he grabbed the box out of my arms, and by yanking the weight out of my grasp, he dislocated my shoulder in the process. On top of that, if you can believe it, he then got angry at me for calling him out on his behaviour (even though I did it politely) and pointing out that if he hadn’t “helped”, I would not have been injured – *and* he refused to help me relocate my shoulder (a woman of about my age a bit further back in the queue helped me put it back). I am fucking fed up of being treated like I couldn’t possibly ever handle anything by myself just because I happen to be (a) young, (b) a woman, and (c) a wheelchair user! This kind of crap happens far too often, and it’s nearly always men who do it. That said, however, I have neither forgotten nor overlooked a *delightful* incident from a couple of months ago: In that particular instance, a woman about a generation older than I am decided that she was going to “help” me get off a bus, all along talking at the top of her voice and half the time in third person, to show everybody else on the bus how she’s soooo charitable and a better person than they are, helping this poor disabled girl (that was the way she was acting, and it was frankly humiliating)… So I said to her, “Look, thank you for the offer, but really, I’m fine, I can manage without help.” She ignored me at first and went down to speak to the driver, again at the top of her voice so the whole bus could hear, even though I’d already pressed the buzzer to let him know I needed the ramp to be put down at the next stop, so she didn’t need to talk to him at all. I said it again, and a little more forcefully because by then she was actually getting in my way when I was trying to turn my chair around, and next thing I know, she’s effing and blinding all over the place, calling me all the disgusting names under the sun, with ableist insults, ageist crap and some equally nasty misogynistic epithets no woman ought ever to use to another… and all I’m doing is just trying to get off the damn bus and go home, and she’s shouting swear-words at me at the top of her voice… eventually I just yelled back “Oh, fuck off and grow up!” when I was finally off the bus, quietly apologising to the bus driver for the scene – and she had thoroughly triggered my PTSD by then. The closest comparison to that incident with a man? Well, that was also on a bus, but it actually began with him physically assaulting me, after which he went off on a similar verbally abusive rant – but he wasn’t even pretending to try to help me. Just loud, misogynistic, ableist, ageist verbal abuse all over again. I posted that incident on ES shortly after it happened, in 2012. I am so very tired of people who think they have a right to “help” me against my will, almost always without asking, and are not being helpful at ALL. Every single time someone has done that I have ended up with either a physical injury or a damaged wheelchair. And eight times out of ten it has been a man who has tried it. I am just so tired of it all.
At school, a boy pinched my ass. He felt that I was wearing a sanitary towel, and, not knowing what it was, told everyone in the class loudly that I was wearing a diaper. Nobody asked him how he knew that. Nobody challenged his ignorance. Nobody asked why he was touching my butt at all. I got sexually assaulted, then insulted for weeks with baby/diaper jokes. I’m coming out as being a trans man now. As a teen, I found my periods really harrowing, and difficult to deal with mentally. I also had very conflicting feelings about being sexually attractive to men. This whole incident was practically my worst nightmare made real.
Had my bum smacked with a rolled newspaper by my Grandma`s carer`s son. It`s not funny or charming. It`s digusting.