Beth

I was 14 years old. My friends and I were walking through a neighborhood I wasn’t familiar with, and they didn’t tell me where they were going. We went through a grimy alleyway to find a bunch of men, all of whom were clearly in their 20s, standing around in a circle drinking beer. One guy immediately asked my friend, in reference to me, “who’s your hot friend?” He strode over, and I braced myself for him to flirt. Instead, without saying a word, he reached around from behind me, grabbing my crotch and then my backside. He said “you liked that, didn’t you?” Everyone laughed, and I didn’t have the courage to say that no, actually–I hated it. I did nothing when he stuck his tongue in my mouth and then convinced me to sit on his lap. I wanted to run away, but since my friends acted like nothing bad was happening, I knew that it was just me being too “sensitive.” When a few minutes passed and I started getting (inwardly) upset, I told my friends I had to go home. I walked away feeling shamed, dirty, and worthless. I don’t think I ever told anyone.

Sixteen years later, I am an accomplished, intelligent professional who is about to get her master’s degree. I am so sad that because of the society we live in, it has taken me 16 years to realize that what that man did that day was assault.