Several years ago, I wrote this piece in response to an online movement where people were describing how sexual harassment affected them in the formative years, following the introduction of, “When I was…” I wasn’t ready to share this immediately to connect with that movement, and when I decided I wanted to share, I wasn’t able to locate the original… So I’m just gonna leave this here
When I was 5, I met a couple of rough looking dudes.
They said, “Hey, you’re cute. Wanna be in a movie?”
When I nodded enthusiastically they laughed and laughed as they moved along.
I hung my head and never told anyone. I was embarrassed because I thought
the joke was that I could think that I was cute enough for movies.
When I was 6 my uncle made me sleep with him on the living room floor, even though I was supposed to be there visiting his girlfriend’s 2 daughters about my age.
I couldn’t sleep because he kept insisting on putting his leg over top of me.
When I told my parents, I thought they would just tell him to let me sleep with the girls from now on, but when I saw these girls that had been my friends, they snarled at me and called me a liar. “He didn’t do anything to you.” They said with contempt.
I never saw them again.
When I was 7 the neighbor kids were playing hide and seek. An older “boy” (about 20) offered to help me find a good spot to hide. As we settled in behind an apartment building across the street from my own. I went to turn and say something but as I turned he grabbed me by the shoulders and kissed me hard on the mouth.
I was totally shocked and ran off to tell my parents who in turn stormed off to see his parents. A front porch ghetto screaming match ensued and I cringed in humiliation.
Why was I such a big baby, it was just a stupid kiss?
When I was 8 I met a boy in the neighborhood who called himself Elvis. I was never really sure that was his real name, but I found him fascinating. I invited him to my house so we could sit and he told me stories about singing in his dad’s band and going to California. He said that they were planning a trip soon, and that I could come along. I was overcome with excitement, since there had never been much travel in my life. I ran to tell my parents the great news about my invitation. My father jumped up in a rage and chased my friend out of the house forbidding him to show his face again.
I cried alone for days once again wishing I had kept my big mouth shut.
When I was 9 I had my first “mutual crush” with a boy from across the street. He asked if he could kiss me and I said ok. He asked me to be his girlfriend and invited me into his house. He prompted me to lay on the bed where we could watch his little brother play video games. He held onto me and put his leg over me exactly as my uncle had years before. I panicked, said I didn’t want to be his girlfriend, and ran home. He never spoke to me again. I watched him play with other kids out the window.
When I was 15 I learned the truth about my uncle and how he had molested his 4 younger sisters. The realization connecting back to the girls that I had known as a child and what must have happened to them is something that brings a lump to the pit of my stomach to this day.