So many stories. So many accusations. My head gets foggy. I shake it, trying to keep myself in the "here and now".
I recently read a post by a woman explaining how she developed a fear of men. If I can find it, I will link it. I have been thinking about it for days now, and I need to write in order to get out my spinning thoughts.
I didn't choose to fear men, men taught me.
In 5th grade, a boy from another class grabbed my ass. I got shy and didn't respond. He did this every time he saw me. He was older than me, and I was scared. Men do what they want.
As a 15 year old, walking to the grocery store, the catcalls from groups of men in cars. Some would pull over a block or so ahead. I would continue walking as they shouted from the car "hey, babe! Where are you going? Let us give you a ride!" I ignored them. "Hey! We're talking to you!" They revved the engine as I walked by, which startled me. "Come on, slut, get in the car!" I kept walking, and eventually they left. As an adult woman, that situation should have scared me far more than it did, but it was the first of many. Men are persistent.
In math class as a freshman in high-school, I heard a boy say "Hey! Watch this!" I paid no attention until he was next to me, and shoved his hand up my skirt and under my panties. He laughed. I heard the others laughing. I sat mortified and shocked. Men want what's under your skirt.
A year or so later, my high-school sweetheart, some friends, and I were off at a church retreat. We were "good kids", so they let us bunk in the same room - my friend (girl), my boyfriend, and I. In the middle of the night, my boyfriend got into bed with me. It was totally innocent at first. We just snuggled and kissed, as teens do. Then he got on top of me. This was my first experience with this. Fear made me frozen - I couldn't make a sound. I managed a whimpered "stop! She'll hear you!" He put his hands under my clothes and grabbed at me. I remember feeling his arms slip through my hands, and for the first time I realized that men are stronger than me. I tried to get out from under him. He was trying to kiss me, and I was squirming away. When I managed to get out from under him, I ran down the hallway to an empty room, he chased after me. Thankfully, the room had a locking door. This was my first panic attack. I remember sitting in a corner of the room, feeling extremely small with the walls huge around me. He kept knocking on the door. Hours went by. When I finally had the courage to open the door that had fallen silent, he was laying outside of the room. Waiting. But, he had fallen asleep. I was able to get to a phone to call my mom to pick me up. Men are stronger than me and they don't listen.
Through the high-school hallways, a boy would come up to talk to me at my locker. When we finished talking, he pressed his finger into my breast, hard, and walked away. I was speechless and confused. Did that really just happen? It happened several other times. My breasts are not mine, they are for men.
I had a date with a very handsome man. We went to his place to sip wine and do what adults do. The classic, one thing led to another... He wanted to try the "other way". I agreed. Though had never done it. I screamed! He shouted at me to "SHH! My roommates will hear you!". I couldn't stand the pain, so I wiggled out from under him. He turned on the light. "What the fuck?!" he said, "you got blood all over my sheets!" Men hurt me and are mean.
I was dating a man for a couple months and he stayed over sometimes. This particular night, while doing what adults do, he suddenly flipped me over so I was on my belly. He jammed his penis into my anus. And I remember seeing white with pain. I screamed a blood curdling sound that I didn't know I was capable of, and he forced my head into the pillow "shut the fuck up!" he yelled over and over again. I was screaming and trying to reach behind me to get him off. I began to feel I couldn't breathe from the intense pain. A strange sensation took over. I remember feeling my body go limp and I floated up to the top of the room. I could feel the pulsing of him thrusting into me, but I was no longer connected to the massive pain of my experience. He finished and rolled off of my body. I got up, put my nighty back on, and went downstairs and sat on the couch in a haunted daze. He yelled at me "get back here!" I silently walked back. He said "you are being rude, just leaving me like that. Get back into bed." I was so afraid that he would do it again, so I obliged, but not before he said "Take the nighty off, I told you, you need to sleep naked when you're next to me." Men are terrifying.
Men taught me to fear them.
