So this happened when i was about 6 or 7 years old. Now i am 22 an i only recogniced it as sexual assault a few years ago… I was in a swimming bath and this perhaps 12 year old boy dived by and rubbed his hand between my legs… This must have been the first time i ever encountered sexual harassment and it took me really that long to realise it.
When I was 13 (Grade 8) our school had a movie night in which I decided to sit with one of my older friends (a boy in grade 11). I only liked him because he was kind and funny to me. I had brought a blanket to this movie and at the start he said he was cold, and tried to get under the blanket with me. I gave him the entire blanket even though it was cold, because I didn’t want to share with him. A few minuets later (when the movie had started) I felt his hand brush up against my breast. I ignored it because I thought it was an accident. But it kept happening until he was fully groping my breast. Although I didn’t verbalise saying no, I continuously brushed him off or turn away from him. Half way through the movie the school had a break and I got up to go outside (because I needed to call my mum) and he followed me. I knew then that I couldn’t call my mum to pick me up because it would take her 10 mins to get to the school and this boy had my blanket. The groping continued throughout the 3hr movie and tried many times to completely cover me in the blanket but I pinned it down with my leg. at the end when I was packing up to leave he winked at me. I was saddened that we were laying right in front of all the teachers and none of them noticed or did anything. It took me a year to tell anyone about this because I felt guilty for not ‘saying’no. But I never said yes and I was giving him physical indications that I was uncomfortable. He is still at the school even though the teachers now know about the incident. And some days when I run into him I feel completely defeted.
I felt alone. Very alone. There were three boys home I had to pass by every time I went for tuitions. It was horrible. They would cat call me and tease me from their balcony. I couldn’t do anything about it. There was no way I could change my route because a mad dog haunted the other one. I couldn’t tell my teacher because I was afraid of being called a narc. So I went on through it. I wish I had told her, though. It wasn’t okay for those guys to tease and make me feel like crap. I should have got help.
I imagine I was around 7 or 8 years old. 1st or 2nd grade perhaps. Probably second for some reason I can’t remember much (any) of grade 2 even though I remember all of grade 1 and grade 3 so it would make sense if it happened then and I just blocked out the entire year. I liked to play make believe in the yard (front or back it was all forest). I would be a warrior of some sort fighting forest creatures (much like those in the Spiderwick Chronicles). The yard had always been a magical fairy land that lurked with monsters needing to be defeated. I imagined the fairies lived in the soft green bushes that grew tiny yellow flowers. I haven’t a clue what kind of plant it was but the stems were also soft and green and pliable so I could walk through them and find tiny little empty spaces as my fort. On day two older neighborhood boys wanted to “play” with me. They were much taller than I and five or six years older. I thought they wanted to play make believe and visit the fairies with me. The next thing I remember is them telling me to take my clothes off. I was a small child and they were much bigger and they outnumbered me. I thought it was just a game, at first. I did what they asked then they asked me to spin around real slow. So I did. I can’t remember if they touched me or just looked at me but I remember not telling a soul. When they told me I could, I put my clothes back on and went inside like nothing happened. The back yard was no longer a magical place with fairies. I didn’t tell anyone, I knew what they did was wrong but my parents were never there for me, they never protected me. Even as a child I understood that girls who were molested were broken and somewhere in me I knew that was what had happened and I didn’t want to be seen as broken. Out of shame and hopelessness I burried it. For the next 11-12 years I walked by those bushes everyday when I left the house. Fast Forward. A little after this event (perhaps a year or two) I was had fallen asleep on the armchair in the living room. It was the wee hours of the morning still dark but just enough light to see. Something woke me up. It was footsteps so quiet as if they were trying to be sneaky. I peaked through my eyes to see who it was and saw my two older step brothers (one four years older, the other 7 years older) So I did what I always did: pretended to be asleep. That was how I got away from my stepdad and stepbrothers mood swings at night, I would fake sleeping. The two pairs of footsteps got closer and stopped by the armchair. I was terrified I couldn’t move, I couldnt open my eyes. They always tormented me like brothers do but parents always intervened when it got rowdy, but there were no parents in the room now. I felt then reach into my bottoms and touch me. They took turns and all I could do was pretend to be asleep, paralyzed by fear. Eventually they left. I never told anyone. My parents always sided with my stepbrothers I thought if I told then somehow I would get in trouble like always. If they did get in trouble, I knew they would be even meaner to me when parents weren’t around to get back at me. I thought if I told they would hurt me, bad. I did what I always did I suked it up and I burried it. That’s what my mother taught me suck it up, be complacent, cater to those who are more powerful than you to protect yourself.
I clearly remember the first time I was sexually harassed. I was maybe 7 or 8 years old and I’ve always been very tall and generally seeming older than I was. I was walking home from school which was about a 15 minute walk. When I was crossing the road, a guy eho was about 35 clocked me and wouldn’t stop staring at me. He got out of his way and even made a full 180 to start following me. I was really scared and started walking faster, but because my legs weren’t long enough, he eventually got to me, built himself up around me so I couldn’t escape and started asking why I was crying. He made it seem like he was hugging me so other pedestrians wouldn’t be concerned, but he started touching me and called me things like “pretty young lady” and asked how old I was to already be this beautiful. After a few minutes that felt like an eternity someone finally called the police cuz I wouldn’t stop trying to escape his grip and he had started to become rather violent. I’ll never forget this.
When I was younger, around 8-10 (I can’t remember exactly when), my parents took my younger sister and me to Italy. It was a fantastic trip and we traveled around the whole country on trains. At our last destination before going home we stayed outside of the city in a gorgeous self-catered apartment and we would spend the days there either exploring the countryside or going into the city. One day in the city centre, we all got on a hugely crowded bus. I remember being pressed up against a lot of sweaty, hot people. A short time after we got on, I felt something on my back. I presumed it was just a strap of a bag or someone’s belongings pushing against me. However, slowly but surely, whatever it was (and I’m pretty sure it was a hand or at least a finger) slid it’s way down my lower back and started into the back of my trousers. It didn’t get very far, only to the top of my bottom, but it was enough to make me feel awful about the whole thing. I kept telling myself that it was just a bag, that it was just moving downwards as the bus jolted it around, but I never truly believed that and still don’t, although I’ll never know the actual truth. I was frozen in place, I didn’t dare move in case it got worse, and I didn’t know how to tell my parents, almost 15 years later they have no idea of it. I know it’s only small, and I know how lucky I am for that to be one of the worst encounters of my life, but I still think about it relatively regularly, and I never ever want to go back to that city. Even writing this now my hands are shaking and I want to cry. I’ve told friends about it before, but only ever briefly, as if it was just an anecdote and I always try to pass it off as lightly as I can. We shouldn’t have to put up with this sort of thing. Ever.
There’s a too many events to list them all so instead I’ll pick out a few that have never left me and still come to mind regularly; – Coming downstairs one day when my dad’s lawyer and family friend was visiting the house. I was in my nightie. He lifted up my nightie and spanked my bottom calling me a ‘naughty girl’ for not wearing knickers. I was 8. My dad was watching. I cried and nothing was said. I ran upstairs and in my family the event was never mentioned again, the lawyer still continued to come round regularly. I always wore trousers. – I was 11 and had started to develop breasts before most of my peers, in trampoline club the teacher put his arm across your chest to support you while you learnt to flip. When it was my turn he avoided touching my chest and put his arm across my belly instead, I wasn’t properly supported by that hold and fell. It gave me very mixed signals about my body; that it was something shameful. – I was 12 and was at Proms in the Park with my dad and brother. We had a picnic blanket near the back. I walked around and went to the front nearer the stage. A man exposed himself to me and tried to grab my hand to make me touch his penis. I ran crying back to the blanket, no one asked why I was in tears. I was told I was ‘attention seeking’. – I was 14 and working in the village pub. My boss would regularly either walk behind me at the bar and brush inappropriately against me or if I walked behind him he would pretend to jump and tell all the customers I’d pinched his bottom because I fancied him. I went home crying from every shift. I told my dad, he did nothing. – I was 15 and a group of friends and I went to London to see a show. We were getting the tube back to Waterloo to get the train home and on the escalator a man put his hand up my skirt and grabbed me so hard I was bruised down there. My friend’s (mostly male, we were a group of 4 boys and 2 girls) didn’t believe me. My dad told me not to wear skirts in cities. – Aged 16-18 I got the train to college everyday. It was always just 6th form students and commuters on my train. The stares of the 50+ aged men as they walked along the train aisles or stood over me on the train always made me feel dirty before it was even 8am. – Aged 19 I was assaulted by a man while backpacking. These are just some of the events that have stood out to me. There are too many to list them all; every cat-calling, bum-groping, inappropriate stare, time I’ve been followed home or messages I have received online. Those things have blended into ‘normal’ life and part of what I expect (if not accept) as a woman.
When I was 12 I was in the arcade. Absorbed in a game I was playing. I felt a hand reach through my legs and grab my crotch. His friends laughed. I’m sure several people saw me. No one helped. That was the first time I’d ever been touched like that.
When I was seven yo, a boy from our (first) grade dropped me off from a high jungle gym. I fell down, hurt myself and bit my tooth through my lip. I went to see our school nurse and got well nurtured. But when I told her what had happened, she explained to me that I should actually see that it was a nice thing, because” now I know that somebody likes me”. -Now at 26, I suddenly realize how very horrible and idiotic that was. Back then, “understanding” that made me feel nauseate but obviously thinking that its true when she says so. When I was at fifth grade, being 11 yo, boys at our class had a paper going round where they ranked girls based on how their “breasts” looked everyday. Mine where reputedly too small, so i bought filling for my top after a while. – Too small for child? I wonder now, if my breasts wouldn’t have later grew to be big enough for their scale, would I now have implants and scars on my upper body.. Same year boys started to slap girls butts constantly during breaks and trying to pull our underpants up. When I had an argument, I don’t remember about what, on that same year with one of those slapping boys, he called me a whore. I had heard that word many times already, so I knew what it meant. I had also heard a word gigolo recently from TV, and I remember how it stick to my mind like an absurd idea “a man can also be a whore?”. I then insulted that boy back. Weird thing that happened then was that I, who had been insulted first, didn’t even realize there was something I as a girl could or should go and report to teacher about. But the boy obviously felt big shock and unjust to be called like that, even though he was the one who started it, so he went and told the teacher. The most absurd thing with this incident was, when I think about it now and also was to me back then, that only I had detention. The male teacher was furious that I used that word, wanted to know where I had heard that word from, and made me swear I won’t use that word again. He explained to me that it is different from the word whore because whore is a common and normal word. I guess that was the second time I realized that this system is unjust. The first time was a one year before when fourth grade started. Girls were supposed to start knitting-classes and boys to start woodcraft-classes. I asked to start woodcraft instead of knitting and was then told by teachers it’s not acceptable because I’m a girl. It would have though been acceptable for boys to attend knitting-classes from time to time, if some would so want. My great parents had to come to school to request it in person for me before the male principal took it into consideration and year after that granted me right to attend woodcraft-classes. In that condition though, that I would still continue to take knitting -classes too.. My gosh, this was in turn of the millennium and in Nordic country,
When I was 5 or 6 I was skipping from my house to the small park which was right next door in my neighbourhood. A man probably in his 20’s to 30’s came up to me, took my face in his hands and kissed me on the lips. I was so ashamed I only told my my mom about 2 years later when we moved. Also, not long ago, I was walking casually in the street when an elderly man in his late 60’s called me over. From what I understood he needed help crossing the road so I approached him and he held his hand out for mine in the manner of a hand shake. When I took his hand to shake he pulled my torward him strongly and tried to kiss me, I pushed myself away from him and walked away. I’m 18.