semi-hiatus

These are three separate experiences I’ve had, involving three separate men:

1. When I was a restaurant server, he grabbed my ass as I was walking by with some plates and drinks. I nervously laughed it off, because I thought that this behavior was something that I should expect as a female waitress. And as a customer who regularly dined and drank at the restaurant with large groups of friends, and consistently tipped generously, I assume that he felt entitled to do this. He was not.

2. After grabbing dinner and drinks with a friend from high school, he was supposed to drive me home afterward. Instead, he parked a few blocks away, tried to kiss me, and forcibly put my hand on his crotch. When I told him to stop and tried to pull away, he didn’t listen. Instead, he became more physically forceful. Luckily, the car door was unlocked, and I jumped out of the car, still feeling scared. He yelled, telling me I was a bitch, then drove away. For a while, I replayed the hours prior, contemplating if I had done or said something that had led him on. I thought that maybe it was my fault for agreeing to get dinner and drinks with him alone. It was not.

3. Most recently, after my last night of work before I planned on moving to Berkeley for school, I planned on a fun night out drinking and celebrating with some coworker friends. At the end of the night, my coworker unzipped my pants while I was sleeping in the back of the car, waiting to be driven home. I pushed his hand away several times, wanting him to stop. He didn’t. I wanted to yell at him to stop and say, “What the hell is your problem?” But despite my internal screaming, I was too drunk, falling in and out of sleep, and unable to form a coherent sentence.

I’m sure that in regards to this third encounter, many would tell me that it was my fault—that I brought it upon myself by getting so drunk. And in many moments, I agree with them.

Why did I get so drunk that night?

I struggle with feelings of regret while I ask myself this. I play that night over and over in my head, blaming myself for losing control and wondering how things would’ve been different if I drank less.

But in a few other fleeting moments, I know better.

Why did I get so drunk? 

Because I thought the night was about having fun and celebrating with coworkers.  Because I thought I was surrounded by friends, people who I could trust. Because I would have never thought, in a million years, that one of them would treat me with such disrespect.

What happened was not determined by how drunk I was. It happened because he did not understand the concept of consent. There were no words nor nonverbal actions between us, at any time, that gave him any permission to do what he did, regardless of how many drinks I had, and the same could be said for the other two men.

And this is precisely why I’m so disturbed by what Donald Trump said in that video. Because even as a 59-year-old (at the time) man, he made it clear that, he too, did not, and probably still does not, understand the concept of consent. In his case, he seems to feel that he does not need consent, as long as he has money and fame. 

Calling it “locker room talk” is inaccurate. This is NOT dirty talk, and this is NOT about his use of the word “pussy”. He was NOT simply talking about having sex with women. He was talking about treating women as sexual objects, doing what he wants to them without their consent. Excusing it as “locker room talk” only perpetuates the idea that the behavior that I and so many other women have experienced is normal and acceptable. 

Whether it’s the video of Donald Trump or the accusations against Bill Clinton, both are results of not respecting the absence of consent from women, and both are unacceptable.

At this point in my life, I feel lucky to be with a man who respects my body and respects me, and who understands why this type of dialogue isn’t okay. It makes me angry and sad that this can’t be said for so many others. Those are the men who, if they don’t commit sexual assault themselves, will perpetuate the culture that tells women that they are at fault when they are victimized.