Recently my memory has been flooding me with all kinds of experiences that I feel particularly ashamed about. It must be the air or mercury is in retro gatorade or my chanclas need to get realigned, SOMETHING but lordy I have a lot of stories I have never said out loud.
I was thinking of this particular time in high school that was a defining moment for me but I wouldn’t expect the teacher or any one sitting in the class that day to remember.
I was in AP English and our teacher gave us an assignment to create a children’s book.
I was pumped!
This nerd loves a good children’s book, even then, and I was excited to try my hand at this particular type of writing.
This assignment wasn’t due for a week but I remember going home and starting to work on it WRITE (😏) away.
I can’t draw but I decided that I wanted to try my hand because it’s what children’s authors did and I wanted to be very official. I wrote this story about a rabbit in the city who was looking for a friend but ran into lots of obstacles to get where they were going. The little rabbit never gave up and eventually made it to where they were going. I was so proud of this little book and I worked so hard on this assignment.
I volunteered to share first but I think one other nerd beat me out for the top spot so I think I went second.
I remember sitting at my desk going over my work with my heart beating fast.
The girl presenting was a much better artist than me and her work seemed neater so I was already getting prickly armpits about it. She finishes and I walk up to the front of the class and sit on the stool. Even at 16 I had a teacher voice and I began reading as if I was doing it to little kids and was showing the book and moving it around so everyone could see. I am telling my little rabbit story and feeling pretty good about it until this dick in the front of the class goes “Okay, we get it the rabbit is probably going to a volcano and die.”
I just stared at him, deer in the headlights, while the rest of the class chuckled. I look at the teacher’s face and she had a smirk, too. I finished my book and returned to my seat mortified.
You know when you get really embarrassed and your face gets really hot? It feels like you can feel your brain burning in your head? My eyes were stinging but I sat and listened to the other stories. I remember thinking their stories were better and mine was awful. I probably got an A but it didn’t feel like it.
Fast forward a little bit to the end of senior year where my school experience was littered with these experiences from this same guy. The AP kids usually took the same classes so I couldn’t really escape his criticisms.
But get this! This fool, at a football game, came up to me and said that I was really smart and charming.
That I always seem to know what I was talking about…
Me:
But I was a teenager so I ate it up. He asked for my phone number and then started texting me. I don’t know how this happened but we arranged to hang out and go on a date (I guess?) This part is really fuzzy because I tried to forget it. We ended up making out and it was all very exciting because he called me beautiful.
And then the manipulation starts…
I say that this article is for the ladies because I am sure I can’t be the only one who has been through this.
He told me that if I didn’t touch his dick he would probably get blue balls and that it would be so painful. What did I know? So I did. Then, again not sure how this happened, I ended up at his house. Where the fuck are this kid’s parents, I do not know. Why they let me in their house late at night to “watch tv” with his son, again I do not know.
Where the fuck are the adults in this situation!?!
We start making out on his couch and he says the same line about the blue balls so I touch him, even though I said no and I don’t want to. Then he makes up something else that says I should TOUCH him, not just over the clothes. I said no but I did, even though I didn’t want to. I have seriously given myself a mini hernia trying to get away from this dude. I was bending so awkwardly to try and get away while still doing what he asked.
It hurt!
I remember the stabbing pain but trying to be cool and do it anyway. I was trying not to get rejected. It was at this point that some adult of his house showed up and he said “I’ll get us water” or some shit.
I got my phone out and texted my mom right away to pick me up. He came back with something and tried to start all over again this time talking about blow jobs. I was so done and so damn uncomfortable. I awkwardly giggled my way out of the situation and then my mom pulled up.
Thank god.
I ran out and tried not to think of it.
I tried to stuff this memory allllll the way down.
The one of rejection and manipulation but you know what? It haunts me because this is one of the earliest times that I gave my power away to someone else.
I let a man, but really at this point in time a child, dictate the ideas about my body. I think he ended up texting me and I said I didn’t really want to talk anymore. He just moved on to the next girl and tried to do the same thing all over again. I heard about it and thought “Wow how un-special I am”.
Listen ladies, we post all this strong independent woman shit and we talk about how we don’t need men whatever but what are we actually doing? What are we actually teaching kids?
What are we modeling in society?
Why didn’t that teacher step in?
Where were the adults?
What is really being done to make sure situations like this don’t happen?
I would really like to know.
I have lived with this shame and guilt for years and not exclusively from this experience. I have had to unlearn and relearn what makes me worthy and it’s not easy when I was brainwashed to think that someone else could take my power; that if I tried a little harder the dude that insults me actually just likes me.
It’s not cute or funny, it’s damaging and dangerous to mental health.
I have had to answer to myself as to why I let these crimes happen to my body. I’ve had to ask myself why I let this happen and it’s been so challenging. I am constantly unlearning and the first step for me as been calling these experiences what they are.
This one is entitled “Entitled Douchebag Sexually Harassed And Manipulated Me When I Was Young And Vulnerable”.
I am hoping to rewrite this to “Healed Badass Recognized Her Own Power And Doesn’t Take Shit From Anyone: Also Consent Is Vital”.
Thank you for reading.
Love,
AC
Originally published at http://thislatinalefthome.com on September 16, 2020.
