Perhaps you’ve noticed women posting “me too” on social media and have been curious about what all these people were saying. Perhaps you’re aware of recent allegations of prominent men exerting themselves on women as if having a double X chromosome makes us weak. Perhaps you’re wondering if I am one of the women that has been objectified through assault or harassment.
Yes.
My story isn’t one of assault, per se, but I have been objectified on account that I am of the “fairer sex.”
Let’s start my story in elementary school. I grew up in an area filled with migrant workers. My hometown was largely Hispanic with students from Mexico coming through. One particular student, J, had a crush on me. Physically, I was an early bloomer, but I couldn’t care less about boys. Every year, J would ask me to homecoming (it’s Texas. Football is life) and every year I would say no. I had no interest in going with him. One year in particular, I was so mad that I chased him around the playground, trying to beat him up to let him know no was no. In my mind it was a great idea. He let me beat him up and didn’t lay a finger on me. I’ll give him credit for that. But he continued to ask me out. Years later, after a required school assembly about sexual harassment, I confided in a teacher that he was bugging me. The teacher blew off my concerns as though I were just another annoying tattletale. I didn’t understand harassment as well then as I do now, but I’ve vowed since then to be a safe place for my kids to come tell me if they feel threatened or uncomfortable with anything. Was he actually harassing me? Eh… perhaps not. But I did realize something then; those in authority don’t always have my back.
High school rolls around. I still have very limited interest in dating, but I loved doing academic competitions and at one such competition, a group of us went bowling. A guy the next lane over started flirting with me. I did not find him attractive and was not even interested if I thought he was. I was there to bowl and have fun. “Loosen up, girl!” he told me. “Yeah Karen!” a person from school said. No. I don’t want to. Fortunately, the teacher that had taken us bowling recognized what was happening. “Back off. She’s in high school.” The guy backed off at that. Not at my cold shoulder. Not at my unwillingness to show him any kind of emotion. No. Someone else stepped in, and unfortunately, that isn’t always the case.
Fast forward a couple of years. I’m a freshman in college and suddenly start receiving chat messages, emails, random phone calls from a friend regarding messages they’re receiving from a person. These emails and chats contained threats of rape and murder and included personal details about my location and friends. My friend said he was getting the same messages from this person regarding me. I went to the police. They blew me off. That’s right. The people that are sworn to protect me blew me off. They didn’t see this as a credible threat, meanwhile I wouldn’t go anywhere alone, or if I did, it was to a well populated area. I had my cellphone ready to dial 9-1-1 at any point because I was legitimately scared that this person, whoever it was, would attempt to attack me. Eventually this fear passed. I changed all my emails and got rid of one of my favorite nicknames because I knew that this guy (I have a suspicion of who it is. I became a master at avoiding him, even when I lived in the same town where he worked.) I did what I had to do to feel safe again.
So yes. Me too.
And the thing that sucks about this? The people who have been sexually assaulted and harassed are often brushed aside and blamed for what has happened to them as if they had control over another’s actions. No. We are each responsible for our own actions, sure, but I couldn’t choose a different outfit and have avoided being cyberstalked or bullied. Two of the three times I’ve recounted, I was brushed aside.
If you see things like this happening, speak out. Bring it into the light because darkness and light cannot coexist. Light will win out. It may be work. It may be difficult and seem overwhelming, but when light gathers, darkness flees.
And if you aren’t at a point where you can say “me, too,” it’s ok, but don’t stay hidden. Share your story with a close friend or counselor, and bring someone in your corner to fight with and for you. Please don’t feel like you have to be silent. Tell your story in your own time and in your own way. Your story is valuable. And if you need a listener, I am here.
Here’s my prayer for this. I pray reform would happen in our hearts and churches. That the church would not be a safe haven for predators to maintain their power, but would be a place for victims to seek healing. I pray that victims would speak out so that we would see how deep this issue runs and that we’d realize our sins and repent. I also pray that we raise a generation that has zero tolerance for objectification of people, that the media that perpetuates this would lose ratings and funding. I pray that the coming generations would learn the value of collectively crying out. And I pray that God would reveal to me my own sins because change starts with me.
In Him,
Karen
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