Speaking up for gray

This week I came across a handful of blog posts that turned my blood cold. They were uncomfortable to read and left me squirming in my chair, upset, confused, embarrassed. No longer sure what to think of experiences I made peace with years ago.

Why I Talk About Rape

On being an object, and then not being an object

It should be said.

The rape article was the hardest to get through, but it was a line in Liz's post in her account of a sexual assault that brought me to the computer. A simple sentence, stripped of layers, absent of clever innuendo or metaphors, but powerful nonetheless.

I remember that at 17, the idea of waking parents seemed somehow worse than anything.

Let me be clear. I have never been raped. But as a young woman, GOD did that general sentiment ring true for me.

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When I was 17, I landed a job at a laid-back mom-and-pop video store in my neighborhood, a job I chased after for an entire year because I loved the idea of getting paid to watch movies, do my homework, and hang out with friends twelve hours a week. The owner put me off until I was a senior in high school because the store had a...shall we say...robust adult section, and I was underage. But I was an ambitious 17-year-old, and I had excellent references, so it was only a matter of time before I was collecting late fees from local enthusiasts for titles like Hein*feld and Wednesday is Hump Day. 

On one of my last nights there before leaving for college, I was closing with "Frank," a middle-aged guy with two kids and a day job as a paralegal. He was normally a pleasure to be around, very helpful and kind - he always gave me a ride when we closed, saving me a ten-minute walk home. On that night, we were talking and laughing as usual, but on this night Frank had a few beers on our shift. I don't know that this would have been discouraged by the owner, exactly, since he was known to have a can of something in plain sight of customers while balancing the books, but it was a first for Frank, and you could tell he was buzzing. As the night went on, he became looser with his tongue, and he kept saying how nice and pretty I was; next thing I knew, he was approaching me from the back and wrapping his arms around me in a close hug.

I was taken off guard; what the hell did I know about inappropriate? It's not like he was grabbing at the waistband of my pants or even trying to kiss me. And it was over as quickly as it began, so I don't remember how I acted in the moment aside from making some lame joke and sliding out of his arms. He was such a nice guy, after all, and not himself from the beer, and he still had to drive me home. Because of course I let him drive me home.

I reflect on this now, and I'm angry. I'm angry that a grown man thought it was okay to throw a few back, on the clock, in the presence of a teenager who thought she could work four hours without having someone's hands on her hips. But I'm also so sad for the girl who felt that she had to act like it didn't happen, who felt obligated to get in the car with him, EVEN THOUGH HE'D BEEN DRINKING, because she didn't want to be rude, and who made light of the whole thing when he called to apologize the next day. (See? Such a nice guy.)

Sometimes, Breain, it's okay to be impolite.

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When I was 20, I had sex when I didn't want to. He was older, and I was intoxicated with the attention. In previous conversations, I had told him I wanted to wait, but in the moment, I never said no. When it was over, I didn't know how to react except roll over and cry. All he could do was apologize for misinterpreting my body language. I could see that he meant it. I knew he felt terrible.

If I would have pushed him off me, said WAIT, STOP, I'M NOT READY YET, I know he would've done it. But we'd been fooling around night after night for almost two weeks, and I sure did like him a lot, and I didn't know how to switch gears. How do you talk through such an intense situation when you're physically trying to recover from it? Literally catching your breath, pulling an arm through a shirt sleeve, waiting for your half-asleep eyes to adjust to the light? And that's the problem, I guess. I was more concerned with the awkwardness of the after, with the proverbial waking of the parents, than the hurt I would feel from the during.

He and I went on to date for almost a year, and nothing about our relationship was coersive or forced or any of the adjectives typically used to describe a violent situation. He is even someone I call a friend today. Looking at that one night, though, from the perspective of a grown woman with a daughter of her own, I wish I hadn't cared about the after. I wish I'd been strong enough to say no. 

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The posts I linked to at the start of this entry describe ecounters twenty times more heartbreaking and terrifying than mine. But that's what drew me to share. It's so easy to write off those experiences we believe to be less than someone else's. But not every incident is that black and white, and there is equal value in talking about the gray. I don't want the women in my life thinking they ever have to tolerate the less than. And I hope with all my heart Kara never gives a thought to waking me up.

Comments

[Kate]

I saw these posts yesterday and was really impressed with the courage of the women who wrote them. And now I'm impressed with yours. At the very feminist-share-your-feelings-college I went to, lots of people got confessional and angry about stuff like this, but in my adult life, it's been silent ever since. As a teenager in NYC I was followed, leered at, ground against, etc--much like Liz's Gumbinger's experiences. I never believed those were my fault. Where I really got into trouble was in my 20s where I thought choosing to objectifying my body put ME in control of the situation. But just because I was "there" didn't mean I was always a 100% willing participant.
I think the best way to help out children break out of these cycles (boys and girl) is to talk talk TALK about it. Probably earlier than we think we should.

[Kelly]

I think it takes courage to talk about these things. Nobody's comparing who had it tougher. I love what you wrote... "Sometimes, Breain, it's okay to be impolite."

It's a good lesson to teach our daughters! xo

[Liz]

I read two of those three posts yesterday and they made me wildly uncomfortable - for good reason. All too familiar feelings splayed out on the page, as if I had written them myself.

Sigh. If I ever have a daughter, you can bet your ass I'll be talking to her about this sort of thing. As for my son, he'll learn to respect women, and never, EVER, put one in a situation like that. And because I'm sure it goes both ways, as I've seen young girls force themselves on younger boys, he'll know how to say no without fear as well.

[Mom101]

I've kept this post open for a while and read it twice. It's so heartbreaking over the last few days to realize how freaking common this is. We have to, have to do better for our children.

As to other stories being more heartbreaking and terrifying than your own--I'm not sure there's any relativity here. It all matters. Thank you so much for sharing this.

[Leah B]

I don't even know where to begin or what say except thank you. Thank you for writing this and making me realize that some of those moments I felt were not right, were just that. Having a daughter now it scares me to death that she will ever feel this way, and I will do my darnedest to let her know that if she thinks something is not ok that is enough to make it not ok. And that she can always wake me.
And thank you to Kate for putting in words what I couldn't "Where I really got into trouble was in my 20s where I thought choosing to objectifying my body put ME in control of the situation. But just because I was "there" didn't mean I was always a 100% willing participant.", except make it my teens & 20s.

[heidikins]

I've had this open all day, read it through several times, started this comment several times, but still am unsure of what to say.

Thank you. Thank you for posting this. Thank you for linking to those other, very brave bloggers. Thank you for identifying the gray area, for acknowledging that gray is still a problem.

Goodness, I don't know how many ways I can say thank you for this, but really, thank you.

xox

[Diane]

well said Bree, can I send Juliana over to you and you can discuss this with her before she goes off to college (in 3 years)? It would never come off good from me. I would say "just say no" Easier said than done huh? Just think it would be like practice for Kara? LOL