Asking for It.

anti feminism, Awareness, beautiful, Beauty, Blame, equality, Failure, feminism, fuck you, Her, home, Journal, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment, stalker, Street Harassment

Adult men and teenage boys should stop following women on the street. Men should stop making unsolicited comments on women’s bodies. They should humanize themselves and the women they are doing these things to.

Today, the 8th of October 2016, a grown man followed me in his SUV. He consciously made the decision to follow a young girl, by removing his parked car from a parking lot to driving alongside her at a walking pace. This man, whoever he is, watched me walking and thought, “I should get her in my car”. I can’t allow myself to imagine what would have happened to me if he had gotten me inside of his SUV.

All this happened on the street I live on. He targeted me not even a block from my home. As I was walking, I realized I couldn’t go home – I couldn’t give him such precious information.

This was the second time a man followed me while in a car. This was the fourth time a man I was unfamiliar with has made an unsolicited comment about my body while in public. All of these things have happened this year. I am only sixteen years old. How much worse will this get as I get older?

It is disgusting that grown men can freely gawk at underage girls and have virtually no punishment.

In more than one way, I have been fortunate. I have only had these experiences during daylight. I have always been in moderately public places, and they have never used force or violence towards me. But those things have happened to other women, and I wouldn’t doubt that the men who have harassed me are capable of sexually assaulting, kidnapping, or raping their victims.

I am also fortunate that the police made no comment on my attire – they didn’t slut shame me for wearing a crop top, a short skirt, and wedges. They are taking my case seriously, despite the fact that they could get away with a simple “she was asking for it”. In fact, the two officers were very receptive and gave me a lot of comfort after the incident.

“Hey you!”
I turned. A man, in a car? Okay. Continued walking, crossed the street. Don’t acknowledge him, hopefully he’ll go away. Walking, I heard a car come up behind me. Is it him? It’s not him, don’t worry. This wouldn’t happen to you again. This stuff only happens like, once.. Right? The car came up from behind, it slowed down, approaching me. Nearly stopping, it crawled to a walking pace.”Someone as pretty as you shouldn’t be walking,” he said “let me give you a ride.”
“It’s alright,” I said, “I don’t need a ride, thank you,” I looked directly in his eyes as I said the last bit.
He continued to follow me. Hoping he couldn’t see how nervous he made me, I refrained from wiping the sweat off my brow. Why isn’t he going away? I want him to go away.
“You really are pretty,” my chest tightened. I couldn’t breathe.
“Come on, let me give you a ride,”
Why? So you can rape me? He sped away, turning around just a little ways ahead of me. He stopped. Why did he stop? Is he waiting for me? Is he going to try to run me over? Is he going to get out of his car and try to take me? His car started to move again. I let out an audible sigh. Coming closer to me, I figured he would just drive away. Of course he didn’t. Approaching me again, he rolled down his window, “Hey pretty girl,” he waited for a response. I gave none.
“Okay, fine, be that way.” He was angry. Sped away.

I rushed home, tripping over my wedges, I nearly sprained my ankle. I just wanted to be safe. Never had I felt so alarmed when I could see home – my safe zone.

I made it inside, sat down in the sofa and looked at my door. A noise outside startled me. is it him? No. There were children’s voices. I was safe. But I couldn’t stop staring at the door. I got up to lock it, then proceeded to lock myself in the bathroom and look up harassment on my phone.

Happy Father’s Day: Whores and Addiction

dads, Domestic Violence, Family, fathers, fuck you, Journal, Memories, no trust, Personal, sexual harassment

This Father’s Day I will quietly, but unashamedly, denounce Father’s Day because my father was no father to me.

For years, I would listen to the sound of his voice echo throughout our house as my family would try to sleep. His drunken, loud, angry voice yelling at my mom about things she could not control. The same man who threw my sweet, innocent puppy into our concrete patio,breaking some of her ribs…

ronpup

(This could be her as a puppy, the resemblance is uncanny)

The man who slept with prostitutes when working out of town – and didn’t tell my mom before sleeping with her again. Who drank profusely and stared at his twelve year-old daughters breasts that puberty had spit upon her chest. He wasn’t a graceful man, he wasn’t a nice man, he wasn’t even kind. As the naive and uneducated kid that I was, I loved him. He made my life. I was Daddy’s Girl.

As much as I wish I could still accept him, I know things that tore apart any love or sentiment I had for him. He did things that can’t be reversed with an apology, or with a fatherly kiss on the forehead. Even those kisses he planted on my forehead when he left for work have been tarnished because of reckless actions he didn’t have to take. He let his addiction come before his family, he let his love for whores come before his daughters, he let his lust for breasts taint the way I will see him for the rest of my life.

We lived in fear of what he would do next and we sure made hell seem happy – in our nicely furnished home, with our name brand clothing and smiles plastered to our faces. Mom gently reminding us “Don’t air your dirty laundry“, because she knew exactly what would happen if people found out what happened behind our closed doors.  We did such a good job hiding it, when we finally came out and proclaimed the truth, no one believed us.

So, no. I am not celebrating father’s day. I understand that some people have nice fathers, however foreign that may seem to me right now. Some people love their dads, they might even have good relationships with them.. But to me, father’s day may as well be what Hanukkah is to an Atheist: absolutely meaningless.