I Was Too Embarrassed to Say Anything

There's so much I don't remember from my childhood and teen years, but a few things are crystal clear.  I don't remember how old I was or who I was with, but I remember how it made me feel.

My friends and I decided to go to the high school baseball game.  I think I was a sophomore.  It was a warm spring day.  We sat on the bleachers looking at the boys and talking about mindless things.  The bleachers were semi-full, but not packed.

Before long, I felt someone brush my upper side.  I assumed I was encroaching into someone's space and had been bumped.  I scooted over, giving them space.  It soon happened again.  A definite brush in the same spot on my side, near my breast.  I still assumed blame.  I glanced behind me to see how close I was to this person and how far I needed to move to be out of his way.  He didn't seem that close, but I scooted again to give him space.  It happened again.  I was beginning to believe this wasn't accidental; he meant to touch me.  For whatever reason.

I was young and naive.  And I was embarrassed.  While I was pretty sure it wasn't an accident, what if I said something and he claimed innocence.  How horrifying it would be to wrongly accuse someone.  How shamed I would feel as people around me told me to relax and quit making a big deal out of an accidental contact. 

I didn't say anything.  I scooted again.  By now I had moved away more than a foot from my initial seat.  It happened again.  I froze inside.  I didn't know what to do.  I was embarrassed and scared.  I didn't want my friends to think I was being silly.  I didn't want to make a big deal of it.  So I got up and moved.  I moved to a seat below my friends under the guise that I wanted to turn around and talk to them.  I didn't want the man that kept touching me to think I had moved because of him.

I stayed there for the rest of the game, or until my friends decided they'd had enough baseball, who knows.  What I do know is that as we left a couple of other girls that had been watching the game came over to talk to us. 

One of them said to me, "Did you know that guy?"
I answered, "What guy?"
She said, "The guy that kept touching you."

And in that moment I knew I was right.  She explained that she'd thought of saying something but thought I knew him.  They had been sitting behind us and watched the whole thing.  She watched him stroke my side, watched me move away, watched him move closer to me and do it again.  They watched this and commented on it to each other but said nothing to me or him.

I appreciated her question and comment so much because it validated my feelings.  Something was wrong and I didn't feel safe, but I didn't trust my own feelings.  Until it was validated, I was too scared to say it was not okay behavior.  I was too embarrassed thinking I might wrongly accuse someone.

I was about 16.  He was at least 40.  He kept touching me even though I tried to move away from him.  And I felt like I'd done something wrong.

It would be a long time before I learned that men sometimes brush up against women in crowded places to get a sexual rush.  I was dumbfounded when I learned that this was a crime that was actually prosecuted, and that it often leads to these men committing worse sexual crimes.  Dumbfounded and validated.

I didn't say anything because I was embarrassed.  Because I though no one would believe me.  Because I thought it was my fault.

The same reasons I stayed silent over many years and many sexual assaults -- more explicit and undeniable than the one I describe here.

I have never reported a sexual assault, or an assault of any kind, to the police.  I never told my parents or anyone else.  I didn't want anyone to know what had happened to me.  I thought it made me dirty.  I knew I would be verbally attacked.  I just wanted to move on.

I learned to tell my story because of a trusted friend that I knew wouldn't victimize me again through his reaction.  I have since had lots of therapy.  And I've told my stories many times.  Because even though I still fear those things, it's not worth staying silent.  Too many women have the same experiences and stay silent.  I want to be strong for them and stand up and say that what happened to me was wrong.  I want to offer them my strength until they find their own.  I want them to know they are not alone.

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My post was inspired by this post by London Feminist (contains a couple of swears).  It's important that we believe each other.  It's important that we speak.

A Difference of Opinion

How do you handle it when you have a difference of opinion from someone else?

There are times I think I handle it well.  I have a good friend with whom I frequently disagree, especially about politics.  Sometimes people come to our book club just to watch the heated discussion they know my friend and I will be having.  We argue and debate.  We get passionate.  But in the end we are still friends and we are able to let things go.  I believe it's because we approach our discussion with mutual respect.  The fact that we disagree doesn't mean we think the other person is stupid.  We don't call each other names.  We don't bring in irrelevant events to try to prove the other person is lacking in intelligence and so their argument can't be valid.  I believe I have a healthy dialogue with this woman.  We are friends who work well together in our church callings.  We choose to get together for game nights.  Despite our political differences, we remain friends.

Maybe my friend deserves more of the credit here than I do.

Because there are other people I don't argue with as respectfully.  There are some people who choose to attack when they disagree.  Sometimes I can remain in control and be polite in these disagreements.  Sometimes I lose it.  Sometimes I get right down in the mud with that person.  Even if I win the argument, I come away feeling dirty.

This is how I feel about my last post.  I responded to a post by a fellow blogger.  And I did so badly.  Something she said struck a nerve.  I did not intend to be unkind in my response, but I was.  I had a juvenile moment and attacked.  Not my shining moment.

I disagree with her point of view.  I believe women should be told they are of worth no matter how they look.  I believe women should be told they are wonderful even if they choose to spend the whole day in their pajamas.  I believe we should do all we can to build women up.  I believe we should strengthen each other and back up a woman's right to choose her own path.  I want women to feel the freedom to be whoever they want to be, regardless of society's dictates.  And that includes my fellow blogger.

Because I fought back in an immature way, my message was lost.  And I did not offer this woman the same support I was arguing for.  Sometimes I get so frustrated by women thinking they have to be what society tells them to be that I forget some women actually choose that route because it's right for them.

This woman has made choices in her life because she felt they were right for her.  More power to her.  I believe all women should be able to choose for themselves and with far less judgment.

I apologize for letting my emotions overtake my manners.  I apologize for being unkind.  I apologize for not arguing her right to choose for herself because I didn't agree with her choice.

Shopping in My Pajamas

As I hop from blog to blog, I frequently run into people whose lives are completely different from mine.  People who value different things and focus their energies in other areas.  For the most part, I enjoy this.  I like learning about other people and seeing a way of life that differs from mine. 

But every now and then I run across someone who irritates me.  Not because she is different, but because she is superior, snotty, and judgmental of those who are different from her.  In her world, she is right and anyone who sees things in any other way is wrong and stupid and doesn't deserve the good things in life.

This happened recently.  Through a blogging community, I found myself at the blog of a woman with whom I am fairly certain I have almost nothing in common.  We are both women.  We both live on the planet earth.  I'm guessing we both breathe oxygen.  I'm pretty sure that's where our similarities end.

She is single, lives in London, and focuses much of her attention on fashion.  And I offend her.

I know I offend her because she said so.  In the post that bugged me she said that anyone who shops in their pajamas offends her.  She said that I had no business in the grocery store in my pajamas.  That there is no excuse, no matter how tired or lazy I am.  She said shopping in my pajamas is a statement about my low self-esteem.  She then proceeded to tell me the proper way to go to the grocery store.  The GROCERY store!  Seriously?

I understand that this post was meant to be comedic.  She was going for snarky/funny.  And from the comments on her blog it looks like her audience liked it.

I found it ridiculous.

If we are going to ban people from coming to the grocery store dressed offensively then I have a few things to add:  ultra-short shorts (the kind that barely cover their cheeks); wife-beater shirts; intense cleavage; and any clothing that is so tight or revealing as to be inappropriate for public viewing (since I am making the rules, I get to decide what is inappropriate).

From now on we will all shop in uniforms.  All pants/skirts must reach the knee.  All necklines must reach the collar bone all the way around.  Your clothes must be loose enough that you can easily put them on even when you are wet.  And I want them to all be olive green.  That way, people won't clash as they walk past each other -- because that offends me.

What an incredibly lucky young woman the author of said post is.  Her life must be flowing along smoothly and without any major problems if she has time and energy to worry about this.  She must be generally healthy and have plenty of money.  And thank heavens she decided to make sure we know what is and is not appropriate to wear to the grocery store.

I guess she has never run to the store in a hurry to try to get there before it closed because her child came down with a fever and she needed medication (after she'd gone to bed).  I guess she was never told at 10:45pm that her child had a project due the next day that would make or break his grade so she decided to sacrifice her sleep to run to the store to get what he needed and stay up all night helping.  I guess she has never been so ill she didn't know how she would make it to work and had to run to the store for anti-diarrhea medication so that she didn't get fired for missing work.

And besides all this, I guess she is so worried about what other people think of her that she feels she must put on a show every time she steps out of her house.  Some of us are actually self-confident enough to be seen in whatever we happen to be wearing without caring if the people around us approve.

I sometimes shop in my pajamas.  Sometimes because it takes every last bit of energy I have to get to the store so my family has milk.  Sometimes to get a treat for my daughter who had a difficult day.  And sometimes just because I am comfortable in my pajamas.

When I mentioned this to my friend, she pointed out that when super models are trying not to be noticed they walk around without makeup on and in sloppy clothes.  (I guess that's because they're so insecure, right?)

So I would say to the author of that post, next time you see a woman shopping in her pajamas just pretend she is a super model in hiding.  Maybe that way she won't be so offensive to you.

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No question, this was a full-on rant.  I was not proud of how I handled myself and addressed it soon after in A Difference of Opinion.

The Glory of Women -- Smartly

I have a new essay up at Smartly today singing of the Glory of Women.  Read it and recognize the women in your life.  Or yourself.

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Note to bloggers:  If you have a blogspot blog with embedded comments, I am currently unable to comment (as are many others).  Changing your comment setting to either of the other two options will take care of this.  And please provide an email address somewhere on your site.  There are a couple of you I've been trying to contact since I can't comment.

The Power of Women

I have four daughters and one son.  They range in ages from 12-20 years.  We are talkers.  We talk about almost anything.  One of the things we talk about a lot is human behavior.

Recently we were watching a movie.  One girl got angry at another girl for a perceived offense.  She then began to systematically ruin this girl's social life.  And so began our conversation.

My son didn't see it coming.  My daughters were all able to predict what would happen each step along the way.  It seems this is one way males and females are still different.

My husband taught me about how boys handle things like this.  He told me a story about when he was in junior high.  A boy had a problem with him, didn't like him.  He told my husband so.  My husband said that was fine because he didn't like the boy either.  Soon the fists were flying.  They both got in trouble.  The police were involved.  They learned their lesson.  And before long, they were good friends.

As I've talked to men over the years I've come to understand that this is a common happening.  Guys have a problem, they deal with it (not always with fists), and often they become friends afterward.  If not, at least they are direct and know where they each stand.  Then they just leave each other alone.

Girls, on the other hand, are not as direct.  They often continue to act friendly in person but destroy each other behind their backs.  They spread rumors, they steal friends, they poison the social waters in any way they can.  And it works.  It works because girls/women are of the heart.

We understand how people feel.  We learn what is important to them.  We understand that they are social creatures, that cutting off their social support is like suffocating them.  We know how to hurt another person in a way that is so much deeper than a physical injury.  And because we are of the heart, these wounds damage us.  This attack works.

I wish I could say this ends in junior high.  For some of us it probably does.  I've known some incredible women who would never say anything bad about another person, who would never strike at another's soul.

I wish I was one of them, but I'm not.  Sometimes I'm petty.  Sometimes I'm jealous and self-centered.  Sometimes I'm just impatient.  And often I am critical.

As women we have an incredible ability to do good.  We can use this same power to lift others up.  Instead of seeing how those around us don't measure up, we can look for things they are doing well and praise them.  We can encourage them.  We can thank them.  It's this same exact power -- the power of the heart -- that offers us this choice.  We can do so much good or so much harm.

People don't need to be told what they are doing wrong; they already know.  They need to be told that they are of worth.  They need to be told that they are capable of better, that we believe in them.  They need to be appreciated for what they have to offer, not told how they are lacking.

I am a woman.  I have the power of the heart.  I commit today to use this power more wisely and kindly.  Because I can.  I have a choice.  I hope you will join me.