Nothing

warning: sexual trauma triggers

Oh my gawd, you guys! I was so kind of happy that Donald Trump's pussy grabbing started a national conversation about the sexual harassment and rape of women, but as it turns out, I was mistaken! We don't need to have a conversation about the safety of our daughters AT ALL. Dudebros on the internet have explained to me again and again that the prevalence of sexual harassment and rape is really not happening as much as I think it is, and that when it does happen, it is really not all that bad after all.

Whew!

That eleven year old boy who pinched my ass when I was also eleven? The beginning in a string of incidents in which my bodily space was invaded without my permission? Events that would turn me into the hardened bitch I am now?

Never happened.

That guy who pulled up in his skanky Datsun to ask me directions when I was twelve years old walking home from grade school? The one who was totally wanking it when I leaned in to hear his soft voice because I wanted to be polite? That never happened either! My mother apparently did not call the police who took my statement while I was afraid and mortified, only to never be heard from again. 

And then, later that evening, I did NOT experience a creepy feeling of dissociation as though I was remembering the incident as a movie that happened to someone else, a feeling which my mother had to explain to me was totally natural.

That known tough kid who followed me off the junior high bus when we were thirteen, grabbed my arms and forced his tongue in my face in my front yard because I was afraid he might hurt me if I didn’t? That didn’t happen either. And if it did? I can see now that it was totally funny and not the least bit terrifying for a latch key kid with no adult at home.

All those other things that happened to me? Times when guys overpowered me so they could put their hands or other parts where they damn well pleased? Well, those incidents apparently didn’t happen either, or somehow I "misinterpreted" them, so I won’t keep going on about those.

Some of my very best lady sister friends really weren’t raped. When I was fifteen, one of my best female friends who was also fifteen at the time did not call me to tell me that she was no longer a virgin because she’d been raped in the parking lot after a concert. My other friends whose first sexual experiences were rape? Must’ve been mistaken. And my one friend? She was never raped at gunpoint in her car in front of her apartment. All my other friends who've been raped over the years? Turns out they were overreacting.

Thank goodness!

I love that men and women aren’t living parallel lives in which too many of half the population is in denial about what’s really happening to the other half.

Such a relief. And such a relief to know that I don't need to bother to teach my daughter to protect herself from the same fucking bullshit women have put up with for literally fucking ever. What was I worrying my little woman head over, again?

Oh that’s right. Nothing.