There’s a lot of backlash around the #MeToo movement. Many men are uncomfortable engaging with women at all these days – personally or professionally. I get it. There’s so much talk about it being a scary and unsafe time for men, and I’m sure it feels that way. I’m very sure it feels that way. So sure.
I know exactly how frightening it is to feel truly scared and unsafe. That horrible feeling that something unbelievably wicked is about to happen - something that will hurt you more than you can even imagine. When someone, maybe even someone you trust, will do something unspeakable to you. Not just physically hurt you – oh no, it’s so much worse than that. What happens shames you. Shatters your self-esteem. Takes away any semblance of control and leaves you feeling completely powerless. Makes you doubt others’ belief in you. Has you blaming yourself. Allows fear and anxiety to become your constant companions. Ruins your ability to trust. And leaves you with flashbacks – nightmarish, raw, and oh-so-real flashbacks.
No matter how you feel about #MeToo, there’s no denying the validity of the movement. It’s mainstream. Almost every woman I know has experienced sexual harassment at some point. And sexual assault isn’t limited to women; many men and boys suffer rape and sexual trauma.
Few victims say anything about it. According to The Globe and Mail, “the statistics show that about 95 per cent of sexual assault survivors don’t report, and when they do, they are often not believed. Despite the reality that false reports are extremely rare, occurring at a rate of 2 per cent to 10 per cent – similar to the rate of other criminal offences – there is an entrenched suspicion of reports of sexual assault that does not seem to apply to other offences.” But hey…I can tell you it’s pretty damn real. And it haunts you for life.
My abuser was a trusted friend of the family. He was in our house all the time and made sure I knew that no one would ever believe me over him. He used to phone my parent’s house and just breathe when I picked up the phone. Just breathe. It was long before the concept of caller ID or *69 identifying the last number that called you, so he was pretty safe to do it. I couldn’t have proven it was him if I tried. But I knew. Every single time I heard that breathing on the other end of the line my stomach turned to liquid, the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and often I’d vomit.
Let me say this… No matter what you think of #MeToo, be aware that the legacy of sexual assault never ends.
One night recently, home alone by myself (Rollie away at a car show and not expected home until late – Michael out with friends), I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs. I missed the call but could see it had come from a local gas station (the beauty of technology). Since both my guys were out, I quickly picked up the voicemail. And my world turned upside down. No words, just breathing. Instantly, my stomach turned to liquid, the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I had to run for the bathroom. I texted Michael and Rollie – asked if it was either of them. Not Michael. No reply from Rollie. Instinctively – without even stopping to think – I was closing blinds, locking doors, turning out lights. Totally panicked, I was heading up to my bedroom with every intention of barricading the door when the front door knob rattled. I froze. I couldn’t breathe. Time stood still. And then suddenly, I was blazingly angry. A red wave coated everything in sight. Without thinking, I ran back down the steps, unlocked the door and threw it open, yelling, “Who’s there?!?!?” You should have seen it. I was ready to do battle.
But it was Rollie. Turns out he locked his keys in the car at the corner gas station on his way home (earlier than expected) and walked home because I didn’t answer my cell.
Once I could breathe, I started to cry and wasn't able to stop for over an hour. So yeah, I know exactly how frightening it is to feel truly scared and unsafe. Even forty years later. Let me say that again… Forty. Years. Later.
I've been awed by the courageous women and men who've come forward to speak out against their offenders. I'm not that brave. I didn't name him then, and I won't be naming him now. There's no real support after you speak out - and there's a sh!tload of judging, shunning, and black-balling. The response might be quiet, or it might be loud, but the backlash always manages to hit the one who had the audacity to speak of it.
But hey… I understand why the #MeToo movement has left many men (and some women) incensed over the new – and let’s face it, more expandable – social definitions of sexual abuse. Obviously, it leaves the door open for anyone’s past or present behaviours to be reclassified as harassment and assault.
I imagine that feels very scary and unsafe.
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