Vigaland Non-celebrity #MeToo Story #16-Forged in Fire!

Let us all be forged in our fires, not consumed by them

I remember first, taking a bath as a child. My daddy would run his hands along my legs, then his fingers into my vagina. He assured me he was “cleaning my insides”, because even our insides get dirty. I didn’t understand what this meant, but I knew it felt wrong. I was 5 years old. 

Fast forward to middle school. I developed early, so I had to be cautious about what I wore and how I dressed from a young age.  My mother warned me that short skirts would invite the wrong sort of attention – that I would look like a “slut” – so I rarely wore these types of clothes. I tried to conceal my body with sweatshirts and baggy pants. This did not seem to work, however, because boys constantly took it upon themselves to discover it with their own hands – in the hallways between classes, while I was bending over to pick up my books, in the science lab when the teacher was busy – they would grab my butt, exclaiming at how “big and juicy” it was. They would run up to me and eagerly squeeze my breasts, then run away giggling and high-fiving each other. I felt humiliated and ashamed. Sobbing, I explained to my mother what was going on at school. She told me “honey, that just means they like you”. I was confused. Why does a boy’s interest in my body matter more than my desire not to be touched by that boy? Shouldn’t I get to choose who touches me? And how? My mother insisted that this was just part of growing up, that that’s how boys show affection. I learned very early on that being liked by boys meant letting them do whatever they wanted to me.

Fast forward again, this time to young adulthood. I’m a recent college graduate with my first “real” job. A male superior of mine – Bob –  who seems nice invites me and a friend over for dinner. I had no reason to feel unsafe, as Bob had always been professional and kind to both of us at work, plus it was definitely not a date since there were 3 of us.  We all enjoyed some wine and some food, sharing polite conversation and listening to music. Mid-conversation, Bob pulled out a small shiny thing from his pocket and asked me if I liked perfume. I said “yes, what kind?” He held the small shiny thing under my nose and told me to breathe in. I did. I instantly felt warm and lightheaded. My pulse raced. My head ached. My lungs felt huge and full. I did not like this “perfume”. I pulled my head away. “What is that?” I asked. “Shhhh” he said as he grabbed the back of my head and held it still, while holding the small shiny thing under my nose. I tried to fight his grip but he was very strong. My head rushed and ached and my eyesight began to blur. I muttered that I had to go. I could see my friend across the room from me, was she laughing? I couldn’t tell. I tried to breathe from my mouth instead but he had already covered it – I felt his fingers tight around my lips. “Do you want a massage?” My head was swirling. “You can massage each other” Bob began undressing me. He pulled my shirt off and unhooked my bra. “Just keep breathing” He pulled my pants down and put his hand between my legs. I couldn’t move. “Massages are nice for everyone” My head was pounding and my sight was blurred. Were we on the couch? Or the floor? Suddenly I see my friend, she is standing and looks upset. She is yelling. She grabs my hand and says we have to leave. I am fumbling for my clothes. How did this happen? Where are we? She drags me to the door and we leave. 

Fast-forward again to one year ago. I am yet again at a party with colleagues and friends. It’s nearly Christmas time, so everyone is in a festive mood. I spent most of the evening socializing with friends and co-workers, making chitchat and feeling good, feeling happy. As the party dies down, I head into the bathroom before making the trek home. I shut the door behind me but do not lock it because the bathroom is far away from the party and I am alone. 

I am standing at the counter, examining my reflection when suddenly a colleague of mine – we’ll call him George – bursts through the bathroom door. I barley notice it’s him before he’s lifted my dress up and has thrust himself inside of me. I am bent forwards over the countertop and I am choking out cries for help. “You are a bitch – you always have been a tease” I recognize his tone and accent immediately. I recognize his words, as these are words he has said to me before, albeit in (what I believed to be) a joking manner. He thrusts manically. It feels like time has stopped, but it couldn’t have been more than a few seconds. When time resumes again, George throws the door open and exits just as quickly as he came. I fall to the floor and sob. 

It took most of my life to find the courage and strength to admit my first experience with sexual abuse to myself, much less to anyone else. Doing so has destroyed my family and my relationships with my parents. It has taken many years to admit my other experiences, and doing so has destroyed some of my relationships with colleagues and friends. People don’t like to hear stories like these. People don’t like them because they have every potential to breed hate, to illicit pain, to fester ill-will. But I refuse to let these experiences destroy me.

 I am not the darkness that has happened to me. I cannot control the evil forces in this world. But I can control how I respond to them, how I respond to that darkness. And I choose light. I choose to be forged in my fire, not lost within it. I choose to let my fire burn brightly and illuminate the darkness, not just for me but for every woman who has experienced this kind of evil. Let us all be forged in our fires, not consumed by them. Because if we shine brightly enough, and most importantly if we shine together, the darkness doesn’t stand a chance. 

Bio: 

The author of this contribution is currently traveling the world fulfilling her dream of being a professional musician. She has visited over 35 countries in the past 4 years while playing world-class shows with world-class performers like herself from all over the globe. Currently, she is in the process of recording her first album – all of which she is recording and promoting herself in her spare time. She will return to New York City when her current contract is up, where she will continue to thrive creatively, professionally, and personally.

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