When it's time to sing...

Long before this blog, I wrote on another page. There, I shared my feelings and thoughts over trending topics. I was ridiculously opinionated and spent too much time acting like a naive 20 year old.

Now, I'm going to go back to those roots for a spell and just to touch on something that hits close to me.

Women and men far and wide are using their voice and bringing past wrong doings to light. I'm talking about sexual abuse, harassment, unwanted advances, etc. 

Since then, I've read an abundance of "why now?" "they had their chance x amount of time ago" and my favorite, "I can't believe they're ruining this person's career over these allegations!". 

As if having a prominent career is a green light for enabling sick behavior. 

So to those skeptics, critics, and naysayers who are quick to call it a "witch hunt", I say...LISTEN.

Just listen to what those who have been wronged are trying to say. 

Try this for starters...

I remember the first time I was assaulted. Yes, that implies there was more than one incident. 

I was a freshman in high school and still going through the Hell they like to call, puberty. Two very "popular" boys were teasing me during an agriculture class. I played along to prove that I wasn't a weak girl. I guess in their mind that meant I was open to anything. What happened next led to a huge path of self loathing for me. 

I recall getting ready to leave class and we were chatting next to an ice machine. At one point I turned away from them to head out and before I realized it, boy, A, was throwing ice down the back of my shirt and boy, B, had pulled the front of my shirt open to throw in his share of ice. 

Naturally, I laughed because it was cold and it sucked, but in no way shape or form did I ask for that. 

Now, this is the part where the "boys will be boys" mantra will come into play. Well, to that I say, "Fuck that!". 

I didn't want two teenage boys to find a way to sneak a peek at my breasts. 

After that, I told the teacher, who told the principle, who brought me into his office so we could discuss what would happen next. I was given the choice to either take them down or let it go. I chose the former. No way was I going to let that go. 

After that, the boys were kicked out of the school and guess who earned herself the great title of, "SNITCH"? 

That's right. In that time and place I was the one who was in the wrong. 

Want to know what I experienced from then on out?

• I was asked multiple times why I was flirting with them. But way to ask why they put their hands on me in the first place. 
• My clothing choices were questioned. Mind you, I was wearing a button down shirt that was buttoned pretty high. 
• I was effectively shunned by a plethora of folks. I guess I wasn't too keen on "playing the game".
• Remarks were made about my figure (specifically the size of my chest) and thus began my journey with bulimia. 

High school was a shit show following that but thankfully it was only 3 more years to endure. 

My second encounter was not too long after I turned 18 years old. 

I arrived at a party (location intentionally omitted) where I knew maybe one person. At the time, I was in a deeply committed relationship and had zero intentions of doing anything to jeopardize that. 

At one point I was offered a drink by who I thought was a nice guy. Looking back, I shouldn't have accepted the drink but in all fairness, he shouldn't have messed with it. 

I don't remember much from that night. I can't even remember his face. 

All I know is that to this day, certain memories will creep into my thoughts and they aren't pleasant. 

Let me be real here so you can understand; I can picture myself on a bathroom floor with my pants down, my assaulter on top of me, and me unable to move. That's it. The memories come and go in waves and sickens my very core. 

But I didn't tell anyone. I couldn't. 

Why, you ask?

• Remember the ice incident? Yeah, I still do.
• I knew how my boyfriend would react and let me tell you, I wasn't prepared to go down that road.
• I had no recollection of the guy's face. I was in a time loop but only capable of seeing the worst of it. 
• I hated myself for "cheating". 
• I blamed myself and actually thought that I deserved it for not being more careful. 

You know how in movies they show women taking showers after they've been raped, and they keep scrubbing their skin, but it never gets clean enough?

That's what I felt for a very long time after that. 

No matter how much I scrubbed him off of me, he was there forever and I was never going to get clean enough. 

He had burned his mark into my soul and that's what I was left with. 

Over the course of a year, I kept it all a secret. I began to treat men like sex objects because that's what I was to them. So why not even the score? 

I cheated on my boyfriend countless times because the only thing I wanted to control was my body and it was the only way I could cope. 

Finally, I woke up from it all. I let the secret out to my best friend, my now husband; the only man that I could trust in a very long time. 

It's easy to join in on the real "witch hunt". You know, the one where the victims are cast out, doubted, and shunned for singing their songs. 

But do you ever feel their fear, hurt, anguish, etc?

Can you blame them for keeping it in so long?

And can you really tell me what you would do minutes, days, or even weeks after it happening to you?

Even after all this time, I still can't tell you what I would have done.