Please Read! (Important)
As the title says, this is an important post, but not only because it deals with the subject of myself but also because it affects all of us in the community. Firstly, for all those who are actually following my journal, I thank you from the very bottom of my heart and beg you to continue reading. Secondly, if you can, please let others know about it as well, either by linking them this post or just telling them in person. Something happened to me today that totally changed my point of view in life, and I feel that it is important that other people know it as well.
For females especially (or at least from what I gather), rape is a very touchy subject. Many of such cases are not reported due to feelings of shame and guilt, while many rape victims are unable to recall whether or not it really happened because of drugs like rufies. Of course, there are other cases where rape is used as excuses or cover-ups, and I find those as disgusting or even more disgusting than the act of rape itself. It is everywhere. My sister was almost raped once at a summer camp. A fourteen-year-old girl from my middle school was date-raped and had a daughter as a result. My sister's friend was drugged and raped and had to transfer to a different university on top of contracting gonorrhea.
Today I was not raped (thank Jesus) but I certainly felt violated. I was meeting my best friend from university for a movie to celebrate the end of the term, and we agreed to meet at a theatre that is around forty minutes from my place by bus. While waiting for the skytrain to arrive, there was a man beside me - let's call him Douche Bag - who came up and complimented me on my long black hair. I am used to such compliments, and smiled and thanked him politely. He then asked for my name and whether we could be friends, to which I replied with Catherine and oh yah sure respectively. I honestly did not give it much thought at all, but when the train finally arrived, I saw that although Douche Bag was closer to the other door, he decided to follow me. I stood and held onto the railing, and only noticed him when he brushed his fingers against mine.
"Where are you heading?" he asked.
"I'm meeting my girlfriend at the movies," I replied (lying about the girlfriend part), not really paying attention since I was unfamiliar with this side of town and was more focused on finding my way. "Two stops down."
We had a (mostly one-sided) conversation, which was normal enough. People talk on the skytrains - I once met a woman on the skytrain with whom I passed the time with talking about nothing. So he asked if I was a student, whether I liked dogs, and how old I was (I lied the whole way, because giving personal information to strangers is bad bad bad) and it was cool, nothing unusual.
But then, out of the blue, "May I hug you?" he asked, smiling.
Now, I am not stupid, and I know that may I hug you? is not a question that most people ask out of the nowhere. So I tried to be polite and said "Whatever!" in a breezy voice, hoping that Douche Bag was joking. Which he wasn't. He cornered me against the wall and stroked my back, sniffing my hair, and by that time I was frozen and just couldn't move. In the back of my mind, I was glad that the train was filled with people, otherwise who knows what would have happened?
"I'm getting off on the next stop," I smiled artificially, trying to inch my way out of his arms, but he had other ideas and leaned forward to kiss me. Fuck, I screamed mentally. I ducked just in time and thanked God that he did not try again. I have never had a kiss before, and dammit, I am not losing it to a random stranger on the street who only wanted to get in my pants!
"I was going to get off at the last stop," he breathed into my ear. "But I want to stay with you."
"I'm meeting my girlfriend," I repeated, my mind screaming fuck fuck fuck at a million times per second. "Girlfriend."
"Can I follow you? And meet this friend of yours?" he asked. "I want to be with you."
He was totally not getting the point about the girlfriend bit. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked, realizing my mistake when he shook his head in wolfish manner. "Well, having a girlfriend is great! My girlfriend makes me so happy!"
All this time, Douche Bag had been stroking my back, and he just did not stop despite the hints i have attempted to give him. And the stop I was getting off at was coming up fast so I did what I had to do. "I have a date with my girlfriend," I smiled politely. "If it is alright, we sort of want privacy."
Then his wandering hand fell to his side, his eyes darkened, and he looked at me with the iciest glare I have ever been inflicted with. "Fine, goodbye," he said curtly just as the double doors opened.
I all but ran out of there, checking over my shoulder several times to make sure he was not trailing behind me. Then once I finally calmed down and the reception on my phone returned, I called my mom.
Now some of you might scoff and say that oh that guy was just being a guy or you were just hit on it's really no big deal or be flattered that some guy actually takes a liking to you. To those who think that, I say fuck off. It was my first time being majorly hit on, as well as the first time anybody attempted to fucking kiss me. And I was terrified, absolutely terrified. What would have happened if I was stupid enough to let him follow me? What would have happened if I did not duck in time to avoid his kiss? Holy fuck, what would have happened to my best friend if he actually tagged along?! The guy was almost six feet tall!
So after my best friend and I hung out, she drove me to the nearest skytrain station and all of a sudden I felt this uncontrollable fear and anger as I looked around and only saw men. Now, I have always believed myself to be strong and calm in all sorts of situations. Well, count this situation as an exception! I was so scared, and I went that whole thirty-minute ride back home silently hyperventilating. And once I got home and told my parents, I went to my room and started to cry.
Crying is a big deal for me. I hardly ever cry, honest to God. But today I was so ashamed. I could still feel Douche Bag's hand on my back and his nose sniffing my hair. I felt so dirty. Questions filled my mind. Did I look like a slut? Did I look like an easy target? Did I send out sex vibes? For the love of God, did I lead him on? There were so many times that I could have said no when I didn't! I should have said no outright, I should have glared instead of smiled. Did that make me no better than the boy-crazy girls I looked down on in high school?
I looked down at my outfit next. I was always a tomboy, liking loose pants and graphic t-shirts. Today I was wearing pants that were loose but tight enough not to look baggy. The sweater I wore was more feminine, and according to my mother it accentuated my waistline. My hair was let down and was extra sleek because I had just taken a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror: did I really look like a girl who wanted attention from a guy? And then I painfully concluded, yes. My hair reaches past my waist - when I let it down it is really eye-catching. Holy shit I'm a whore!
Right? Wrong.
I thought more and more about the situation, and I realized that it was a situation I was unfamiliar with. I chose to be polite and indirect with my refusals because I was stupid, not because I was a whore. I chose to wear the clothes I wore because I liked them, not because they showed off my tits or my ass. I chose to let my hair down because I always let my hair down and was too lazy to put it up, not because I wanted attention from every boy that came my way.
Still, I realize that it will take me a while to finally trust men again. Other than my father and a few other close friends, I am consciously deciding to remain cold and stoic to every man I meet no matter how nice they seem to be. It is hard for me to say this, but I am terrified. Seriously, on top of being a mild man-hater since ninth grade (my best friend back then was dumped really cruelly), I have been changing between bisexual and lesbian for this whole year, and this incidence just made the scale tip towards the latter by a landslide. I just can't see myself in a relationship with a man anymore, and my hatred for men just went from mild to extreme!
I am still ashamed, though, not because of what happened, but because of how it affected me. I feel really weak and vulnerable, which is not a nice feeling when you are me. I don't think that I can bring myself to wear anything remotely feminine in my closet, nor will I be able to go out of the house without putting my hair into a tight braid. Sad, I know, but it is the truth. I'm terrified. Just imagining what would have happened if the worst case scenario occurred, if I had actually been physically raped, makes me freeze in fear.
So now I beg of you, dear readers, please let other girls/guys/others know about this problem, and that if it does happen to them, tell them that it is not their fault. I know that I am probably the last person who gets to say this, but honest to God, I don't want people to suffer. If I am tormented this much by what had happened to me, I just cannot imagine what it would be like for all those who had actually been through it!
Please, all of you, be careful and stay safe!
Ava
For females especially (or at least from what I gather), rape is a very touchy subject. Many of such cases are not reported due to feelings of shame and guilt, while many rape victims are unable to recall whether or not it really happened because of drugs like rufies. Of course, there are other cases where rape is used as excuses or cover-ups, and I find those as disgusting or even more disgusting than the act of rape itself. It is everywhere. My sister was almost raped once at a summer camp. A fourteen-year-old girl from my middle school was date-raped and had a daughter as a result. My sister's friend was drugged and raped and had to transfer to a different university on top of contracting gonorrhea.
Today I was not raped (thank Jesus) but I certainly felt violated. I was meeting my best friend from university for a movie to celebrate the end of the term, and we agreed to meet at a theatre that is around forty minutes from my place by bus. While waiting for the skytrain to arrive, there was a man beside me - let's call him Douche Bag - who came up and complimented me on my long black hair. I am used to such compliments, and smiled and thanked him politely. He then asked for my name and whether we could be friends, to which I replied with Catherine and oh yah sure respectively. I honestly did not give it much thought at all, but when the train finally arrived, I saw that although Douche Bag was closer to the other door, he decided to follow me. I stood and held onto the railing, and only noticed him when he brushed his fingers against mine.
"Where are you heading?" he asked.
"I'm meeting my girlfriend at the movies," I replied (lying about the girlfriend part), not really paying attention since I was unfamiliar with this side of town and was more focused on finding my way. "Two stops down."
We had a (mostly one-sided) conversation, which was normal enough. People talk on the skytrains - I once met a woman on the skytrain with whom I passed the time with talking about nothing. So he asked if I was a student, whether I liked dogs, and how old I was (I lied the whole way, because giving personal information to strangers is bad bad bad) and it was cool, nothing unusual.
But then, out of the blue, "May I hug you?" he asked, smiling.
Now, I am not stupid, and I know that may I hug you? is not a question that most people ask out of the nowhere. So I tried to be polite and said "Whatever!" in a breezy voice, hoping that Douche Bag was joking. Which he wasn't. He cornered me against the wall and stroked my back, sniffing my hair, and by that time I was frozen and just couldn't move. In the back of my mind, I was glad that the train was filled with people, otherwise who knows what would have happened?
"I'm getting off on the next stop," I smiled artificially, trying to inch my way out of his arms, but he had other ideas and leaned forward to kiss me. Fuck, I screamed mentally. I ducked just in time and thanked God that he did not try again. I have never had a kiss before, and dammit, I am not losing it to a random stranger on the street who only wanted to get in my pants!
"I was going to get off at the last stop," he breathed into my ear. "But I want to stay with you."
"I'm meeting my girlfriend," I repeated, my mind screaming fuck fuck fuck at a million times per second. "Girlfriend."
"Can I follow you? And meet this friend of yours?" he asked. "I want to be with you."
He was totally not getting the point about the girlfriend bit. "Do you have a girlfriend?" I asked, realizing my mistake when he shook his head in wolfish manner. "Well, having a girlfriend is great! My girlfriend makes me so happy!"
All this time, Douche Bag had been stroking my back, and he just did not stop despite the hints i have attempted to give him. And the stop I was getting off at was coming up fast so I did what I had to do. "I have a date with my girlfriend," I smiled politely. "If it is alright, we sort of want privacy."
Then his wandering hand fell to his side, his eyes darkened, and he looked at me with the iciest glare I have ever been inflicted with. "Fine, goodbye," he said curtly just as the double doors opened.
I all but ran out of there, checking over my shoulder several times to make sure he was not trailing behind me. Then once I finally calmed down and the reception on my phone returned, I called my mom.
Now some of you might scoff and say that oh that guy was just being a guy or you were just hit on it's really no big deal or be flattered that some guy actually takes a liking to you. To those who think that, I say fuck off. It was my first time being majorly hit on, as well as the first time anybody attempted to fucking kiss me. And I was terrified, absolutely terrified. What would have happened if I was stupid enough to let him follow me? What would have happened if I did not duck in time to avoid his kiss? Holy fuck, what would have happened to my best friend if he actually tagged along?! The guy was almost six feet tall!
So after my best friend and I hung out, she drove me to the nearest skytrain station and all of a sudden I felt this uncontrollable fear and anger as I looked around and only saw men. Now, I have always believed myself to be strong and calm in all sorts of situations. Well, count this situation as an exception! I was so scared, and I went that whole thirty-minute ride back home silently hyperventilating. And once I got home and told my parents, I went to my room and started to cry.
Crying is a big deal for me. I hardly ever cry, honest to God. But today I was so ashamed. I could still feel Douche Bag's hand on my back and his nose sniffing my hair. I felt so dirty. Questions filled my mind. Did I look like a slut? Did I look like an easy target? Did I send out sex vibes? For the love of God, did I lead him on? There were so many times that I could have said no when I didn't! I should have said no outright, I should have glared instead of smiled. Did that make me no better than the boy-crazy girls I looked down on in high school?
I looked down at my outfit next. I was always a tomboy, liking loose pants and graphic t-shirts. Today I was wearing pants that were loose but tight enough not to look baggy. The sweater I wore was more feminine, and according to my mother it accentuated my waistline. My hair was let down and was extra sleek because I had just taken a shower. I looked at myself in the mirror: did I really look like a girl who wanted attention from a guy? And then I painfully concluded, yes. My hair reaches past my waist - when I let it down it is really eye-catching. Holy shit I'm a whore!
Right? Wrong.
I thought more and more about the situation, and I realized that it was a situation I was unfamiliar with. I chose to be polite and indirect with my refusals because I was stupid, not because I was a whore. I chose to wear the clothes I wore because I liked them, not because they showed off my tits or my ass. I chose to let my hair down because I always let my hair down and was too lazy to put it up, not because I wanted attention from every boy that came my way.
Still, I realize that it will take me a while to finally trust men again. Other than my father and a few other close friends, I am consciously deciding to remain cold and stoic to every man I meet no matter how nice they seem to be. It is hard for me to say this, but I am terrified. Seriously, on top of being a mild man-hater since ninth grade (my best friend back then was dumped really cruelly), I have been changing between bisexual and lesbian for this whole year, and this incidence just made the scale tip towards the latter by a landslide. I just can't see myself in a relationship with a man anymore, and my hatred for men just went from mild to extreme!
I am still ashamed, though, not because of what happened, but because of how it affected me. I feel really weak and vulnerable, which is not a nice feeling when you are me. I don't think that I can bring myself to wear anything remotely feminine in my closet, nor will I be able to go out of the house without putting my hair into a tight braid. Sad, I know, but it is the truth. I'm terrified. Just imagining what would have happened if the worst case scenario occurred, if I had actually been physically raped, makes me freeze in fear.
So now I beg of you, dear readers, please let other girls/guys/others know about this problem, and that if it does happen to them, tell them that it is not their fault. I know that I am probably the last person who gets to say this, but honest to God, I don't want people to suffer. If I am tormented this much by what had happened to me, I just cannot imagine what it would be like for all those who had actually been through it!
Please, all of you, be careful and stay safe!
Ava