Category : Books-Non-Fiction

Sub Category : Biography

The Me Too Movement was started in October of last year as far as most people know. It was a movement to help people talk about the rampant sexual harassment. To this day women share their stories but not everyday women. It seems like only celebrities are allowed to speak up. They started a guild to protect themselves, and where I’m happy for them I don’t know how that helps all walks of life who have or are currently dealing with sexual assault and sexual abuse. To be totally honest I’m sick of hearing about this happening to celebrities. We need to be able to talk and share our stories. So I want people here to share your experiences, if you’re comfortable doing so. We need to start turning the conversation to us, the common people. Recently I found out that men are rethinking all the actions in their entire life because the Me Too Movement scared them. Where some of the people who are scared may be guilty I do not believe anyone should make one person relook at their whole life because of the actions of others. I’ve heard that men have also been sexually harassed and assaulted, but we no longer talk about those from what I can find. So we also need to open a dialogue for everyone. Sexual harassment can be between a man and a man, a woman and a woman, and a woman can also sexually harass or assault a man. I want everyone to be able to talk about it because if people (men and women) can both talk about their experiences then maybe we can make some actual progress on the subject. Also while studying up on the Me Too Movement I found out that they are trying to encompass too many things at once. I’m taught to pick my battles. This is the one I want to open a conversation to. 
I have notes written about this from October, and wow, my notes are sparse because I thought if someone found this I’d be so embarrassed. I know I shouldn’t but I would be. Out of all the stuff I went through my two pages of notes from October is a two page spread about mostly others. Like who spoke out first publicly. Just one page of two people who assaulted me and not even everything. Who did I think would find these notes? One of the perpetrators? A person who knows them? I spent all my time being silent that I thought writing something in a personal journal no one would ever find amongst my things was wrong. Since this year began I’ve become a more vocal advocate for being able to speak up about things we’re usually told to keep to ourselves. 
So I guess it’s time to share my story… Apparently, according to my mother, my history of sexual harassment started when I was a first grader. Unfortunately I have no way to recount that tale because it’s a vague story only she can remember. The first account I can remember is when I was a sophomore in high school. One day a male friend of mine tried to force a kiss on me and cornered me. I pushed him away and he immediately tried again, so I pushed him away with more force so he had to take a few steps back. After that I ran to my class in tears. I took my usual seat. The teacher asked me if I was okay, and when I said yes she believed me and kept moving on. The guy sitting next to me didn’t believe me because well… I was crying. Through tears I told him what happened, and the guy said he’d “kill” him. I calmed down and said I didn’t tell him who did it and I wouldn’t. This case was unusual because my friend who did this had a mental disability. So I wanted to handle it right. Plus, the guy next to me in class would have gone overboard simply based on the way he was talking. Later that day I told one of my friend’s teachers that I trusted. I explained what happened and that I didn’t know what to say or do, and she said she’d handle it and she did. I don’t know the details, but I know he never bugged me again, and before he moved to another school he sincerely apologized to me for what happened. I don’t know why but I never felt like I should tell any of my parents what happened. Maybe it’s because of something awful going on at home that I also didn’t want to talk about. 
During my junior year one of my female friends was upset at school, and when we asked her what was wrong she told us a friend of hers had taken advantage of her the night before. She had taken some cold medicine that had made her loopy and hung out with one of her male friends. Her male friend took advantage of her. The guy I had told my situation to a year before told her it was her fault and stormed off. Yes, the circumstances were different for her, but it was not her fault. Why would it be? She was with a friend she thought she could trust. How was she supposed to know her friend would assault her? She started crying, and I knew I couldn’t just head to class. I wanted to make sure that she was okay. We sat and we talked about the assault and her friend’s reaction for about half an hour before she felt good enough to head to class. We walked to class together since we had the same first period. She spoke to the teacher about it, and the teacher was very understanding as to why we were so late and most likely spoke to my friend about what happened later. 
So during high school I repeated molested and flashed by one of my younger brothers. Yes, before you ask or assume he was old enough to know what he was doing. This was almost on a weekly basis. He’d “fall” and grab my boobs to help keep him up… I tried to tell him it made me uncomfortable, but he seemed eerily pleased about that… He’d do it even with the parents nearby. If he could help it right, he’d do it right behind their backs. Did I ever speak up to my parents? No. I already felt like I was causing trouble for them all the time with other things like moving into their house abruptly and needing like several appointments a week. Plus, I didn’t think they would believe me. I doubt some of you even believe me. How could someone seven years younger than you molest you? Well, in the house he held more power than anyone, and I had/ have little to no balancing due to my mild Cerebral Palsy. He used everything he could against me... And he almost had me sent to jail by making it seem like I was molesting him. 
One day our parents were talking about sleeping naked. We could sleep naked as long as our doors were closed. One day my brother asked if we could hang out in his room. He was lying in his room under the blankets. I thought nothing of it. He must have been cold. His mom walks by and talks to us, and I don’t know what she saw or sensed but she dragged me to the side yard. Turns out while we were hanging out he was freaking naked. She said she was going to call the cops on me. I had no right to touch my brother. I told her repeatedly I didn’t and would never do that to my brother. She said that I would be arrested as an adult, and just wait till my father heard what I did. My world was falling apart in front of me, and I started crying because I just wanted her to believe I would never do that. At some point she believed me and let me go. She gave my brother a “stern talking to”. Dad was never told of this nightmare. I thought he’d think horrible things about me, and I know they never told him. If they did Dad would have talked to me about it. If I’m being honest, I think my brother was setting me up because there were already two child molester teens in the neighborhood that still lived with the victims, so his mom would take it extremely seriously.  
Because of all of this I wanted to tell a friend because talking to people helped me here and there, which is weird because of how many secrets I’ve kept over the years. I started to tell the guy I told the first time I had a sexual harassment problem because at this point we were friends. But I stopped midway. First, he wasn’t paying attention to what I was saying, and I then I remembered his reaction to our other friend’s experience. He practically told her a year before it was her fault. I told him I was having problem with a brother of mine.  At the time I had four brothers. He knew I had a problem with my younger brother I lived with based on the way I spoke about him, but this friend never knew anything else. The fear held me back. And I’m glad I didn’t tell him because he was a hothead who would do something I would regret. 
What we learned in health class didn’t help ease my fears. I was told the statistics of sexual assault. Statics I can’t entirely remember, but I know they said you were more likely be assaulted by someone you knew. It made me actually made me nervous around a few friends. I was wary of them for a few months although I probably didn’t show it. I thought showing fear showed weakness. But I feel like if the class talked about sexual health, what’s appropriate and what’s not I wouldn’t have been as scared. 
So after a while I moved to Colorado to be with my mom. And I forgot about that younger brother and what he did to me. A few months later, all the repressed memories of him groping me, flashing me, and everything blindsided me one night. It was the worst thing in the world. No one was listening to me about anything, so even though I told one of my other brothers I thought it was going to be a lot of what I was always told which is: no one will believe you, and you will be blamed. But my brother believed me. Not only did he believe me, but he asked more. He made me feel heard, safe, and still loved.  He told me a little about his story about his own issues with abuse he is allowing me to share later in this post. 
While in Colorado I was lonely. I wanted to make friends. One of my friends introduced me to a couple. I was going to hang out with them one night. The guy in the couple showed up, and I thought we were going to innocently hang out. I’ve hung out with guy friends before, and nothing happened. But this guy had other thoughts.  He drove us behind some buildings and said that now I owed him a blow job. I was astonished, but he made it seem like I give him one or he wouldn’t give me a ride home. Because I was new to the area and my leg strength isn’t the best I couldn’t- To me, it didn’t seem like I had an option. I must of look terrified as he whipped his dick out because said he’d settle for a hand job. So after I gave him a hand job he gave me a ride home. That night I walked over to my friend’s house and apologized for what happened between him and me. I acted like I was okay with what happened. Then I asked her to cut hair. She was taken aback. She asked why. I said I felt so awful I needed something I could be in control of, and if the hair didn’t come out right who cares? Hair grows back. She let me in and cut my hair the way she had cut her own. She even helped me with light make-up and took a picture. When I left her house I looked so much like my friend my family thought I was my friend. At the end of the night the friend who cut my hair sent me a text saying a boy say the picture of me and wanted to talk to me. She gave him my number and we talked for hours. He ended up being my next boyfriend for a short while. We’re still friends to this day. The only person I didn’t lie to about what happened was my best friend and sister. I told her everything probably crying. But she calmed me down and by the end of the conversation I was laughing and felt safe.  So even when I had a horrible experience things were okay. For a while. 
A few months after that, I invited another guy to my house to hang out. I guess I didn’t learn my lesson. I was doing homework to get my high school diploma while we watched TV. He was getting bored and he pulled me out of my chair and dragged me to the couch. He said I needed a break, so why not sit on the couch? I wish I had kicked him out right then and there, but I had no way of knowing what was going to happen to me. He pinned me down and pulled down my pants and panties. He pinned my hips and started eating me out. I struggled, but I couldn’t find my voice. I wanted to. My legs spazzed like they were trying to kick him off, but it was to no avail. After it was done I was able to convince him to leave. Later I told one of my moms what happened, and she said it was entirely my fault. I asked for it. I did tell one other person at church, and she told me to go to the cops. I wasn’t sure what would happen, so I asked an off-duty cop who was a member at the church what would happen. The officer told me since no one saw it happen it would be a he said, she said situation. I didn’t have a strong enough support system to even fathom charging the guy. I was told if I didn’t come forward he would do it to someone else. But I would get hurt if I said anything. No one would protect me. No one would help me with the emotional turmoil that would come with it. The mom that convinced me that this sexual assault case was all my fault hit me on such a deep level that even though I’ve told my husband everything about my past I never told him this one until I started this blog post. My fear made me doubt my husband would love me afterwards. I actually thought he’d blame me too. He did not. He was still there for me like he has always been. Another person who knows this story laughed at me because I was getting eaten out, so I must have liked it… 
To be honest, I want to make sure I mention that I’m not scared of men or anything. Just because these guys assaulted me doesn’t paint my opinion of an entire gender. I was lucky that once I met my husband I could tell him anything. All these stories he knows and he’s sympathetic. He never made me feel uncomfortable about telling my stories. Having someone believe me and be there for me has helped me greatly. 
One thing I like about the Me Too movement is that it opened up a dialogue about sexual assault. Some friends and I were actually able to talk about our experiences. I heard five people’s sexual assault stories, and it doesn’t just happen to women. It happens to men too. I hate how men don’t feel like they can share their experiences in light of women telling theirs. 
I spoke to a few of them recently, and two of them mentioned that their brain was blocking it out. My best friend remembers waking up to being assaulted by a family member.  One of my friends from college remembers her female cousin used to make a game out of it. Years later, her and her abuser were able to open up a dialogue and are actually on good terms. They were even able to talk to a child about what is and isn’t appropriate behavior. 
A writer friend of mine came to me with her story when I told her I was working on a blog about the Me Too Movement. She wasn’t comfortable talking about it right away after I told her about the movement and why this is so important to me now. When we spoke a few days after I told her I was writing this she told me my story gave her the courage to tell her significant other about her past, and she also said I can share her story as well. When she was fourteen hanging with a distant relative, who was in his early twenties, she was so happy that that a guy was paying attention to her. She was bullied, lonely, and thought she was ugly. So they played board games and card games, but when the homeowners left he offered her beer which she took. What teenager doesn’t want to try drinking? He manipulated her into having sex through the night. She never told anyone, but he was afraid she did so he sent a letter to a close family member saying not to believe her. Being a confused teenager she sent a letter to the distant family member which someone else intercepted. This concerned the family, and they tried to get my friend to talk but she never said anything. After finding the letter he sent the family he was confronted but instead of talking he left abruptly. 
My brother who made me feel so safe when my repressed memories surfaced gave me his story to tell in this blog. His first sexual experience was the time he realized monsters truly do exist. The monster was his stepfather. The man was my brother’s stepfather for two years before the three worst years of my brother’s life began. The family was spending the night at an uncle’s house. After my brother’s mom and uncle went to bed when part way through a movie the stepfather reached under my brother’s blanket and grabbed him between the legs. My brother immediately spoke up and asked what the hell was going on. The stepfather responded by tearing off my brother’s pants and pinning his face into the couch. My brother begged him to stop and choked on his own words as his stepfather penetrated him. People always say that gays want to sleep with straight guys, so my brother never expected for one to come onto him or much less have it be someone who was married to his mom. The abuse went on from the age of seventeen to the age of twenty. One day when my brother was twenty, the stepfather told him to put out or get out. He talked to his husband to be and told him everything. His husband to be helped my brother move in with him quickly after. This experience with his stepfather left my brother with trust issues with men he dated. He was always unsure if his boyfriends wanted more. He had nightmares almost regularly up until very recently. He says, “My stepdad may have taken my personal security, but I’m a survivor. And I will continue to survive.”