It's all too common
[trigger warning for sexual assault/touching]
Back when I was in high school, David Polini stood behind me during a chemistry demonstration. Very close. For a moment, I was thinking "quit pushing me". But he kept pushing me. Pushing himself into my butt. And then the slow creeping realisation hit me. Oh my god. That's his penis. Why is he pressing it against me? Why would he do that?
What could I say? I couldn't stop watching the demonstration. I couldn't disrupt the class. I couldn't even turn around and glare without attracting the teacher's attention. I always stood in the front row.
He held it there, so that I could feel it, for the whole demonstration, and then he pulled away.
At university, I caught the bus every day. I sat in my skirt with the guy sitting next to me, and he reached over to press the button for the next stop. And then he put his hand on my knee, and fast as you like, he ran it all the way up my thigh to underpants, held it there for the merest second, then removed his hand, calm as you please, got out, and left the bus.
If it had taken even half a second longer. If he hadn't stepped out, left. If there was any point in yelling. If.
I might've said something. Done something.
It was too fast to even register anything beyond "oh my god, is he doing... what?"
Waiting at a bus stop. The man standing next to me says "Your breasts are beautiful."
I say nothing.
"May I touch them?"
"No."
"Why not? They're so beautiful. I want to touch them. Let me touch them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to"
"But they're so beautiful."
"No"
"Please."
The bus arrives. I get on. He gets on. I sit down next to someone, though there are empty seats. I do not get off the bus until he has gotten off.
I consider myself lucky. I've never been raped, and I tell myself I've never been sexually assaulted, and then I think of those incidences, above. I think of the doctor who always insisted that I take my bra off so that he could listen to my chest. It's so minor compared to what other women face, what women I know have dealt with, that it doesn't seem worth mentioning. It's nothing in the scheme of things.
It's all too common. So common that I blank it out. Assume it's something else. Forget it.
Back when I was in high school, David Polini stood behind me during a chemistry demonstration. Very close. For a moment, I was thinking "quit pushing me". But he kept pushing me. Pushing himself into my butt. And then the slow creeping realisation hit me. Oh my god. That's his penis. Why is he pressing it against me? Why would he do that?
What could I say? I couldn't stop watching the demonstration. I couldn't disrupt the class. I couldn't even turn around and glare without attracting the teacher's attention. I always stood in the front row.
He held it there, so that I could feel it, for the whole demonstration, and then he pulled away.
At university, I caught the bus every day. I sat in my skirt with the guy sitting next to me, and he reached over to press the button for the next stop. And then he put his hand on my knee, and fast as you like, he ran it all the way up my thigh to underpants, held it there for the merest second, then removed his hand, calm as you please, got out, and left the bus.
If it had taken even half a second longer. If he hadn't stepped out, left. If there was any point in yelling. If.
I might've said something. Done something.
It was too fast to even register anything beyond "oh my god, is he doing... what?"
Waiting at a bus stop. The man standing next to me says "Your breasts are beautiful."
I say nothing.
"May I touch them?"
"No."
"Why not? They're so beautiful. I want to touch them. Let me touch them?"
"No."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want to"
"But they're so beautiful."
"No"
"Please."
The bus arrives. I get on. He gets on. I sit down next to someone, though there are empty seats. I do not get off the bus until he has gotten off.
I consider myself lucky. I've never been raped, and I tell myself I've never been sexually assaulted, and then I think of those incidences, above. I think of the doctor who always insisted that I take my bra off so that he could listen to my chest. It's so minor compared to what other women face, what women I know have dealt with, that it doesn't seem worth mentioning. It's nothing in the scheme of things.
It's all too common. So common that I blank it out. Assume it's something else. Forget it.