So, my turn to comment on the latest hashtag trend. Few people can protest to the advantage of focusing on the abuse and harassment of women. And those who do, I dare call assholes. Simple as that.
But, the recent campaign has made me aware of a few things, that I’m not yet sure what to make of.
Number one. I have never in my life felt sexually abused, harassed or even discriminated because of being a woman. I have seen sexism, but I have never felt like a victim of it, of any kind. Maybe it has happened, maybe I am dreadfully naïve, but if it has, it has certainly passed by without me noticing.
Seeing how many women are putting #metoo on their current statuses, has made me ask myself if there is something wrong with me. Sure, once a dude did grab my ass in a bar, but I didn’t even turn around, thinking it was my husband. Later my husband joked; wow, sexually harassing you is a real challenge! We laughed at it. Perhaps I should have felt violated, but I honestly didn’t. Especially because the mentioned bar was kind of semi gay, and the ass of my better half had already been grabbed by handsy fellas three times.
Second. #metoo doesn’t separate between getting a slap on the ass, being raped or let’s say, constant childhood abuse by a close family member. I’m not sure I would have liked to be compared to the first category, had I been of the latter. Is it correct to put them all in the same box? Maybe. But I’m not sure.
It would of course be difficult to add nuances to a five letter hashtag, and even if it wasn’t, the worst stories probably wouldn’t even be told. Sadly. But these are not insignificant nuances.
I might be the luckiest woman on earth, not to have a single #metoo situation to show for. I conclude with that being a good thing, and that I feel happy, safe and proud to be a woman. And I deeply sympathise with my fellow sisters that have actually experienced harassment, abuse or rape.
Edit: Months after writing this post, I recalled a situation where I actually felt harrassed! I was almost excited to realize that it had happened to ~metoo~. I was sixteen years old and very insecure about my body, especially because back in the days I had a huge rack that I later reduced signficantly surgically.
I was walking up the stairs of my high school when I looked up and found an asshole guy taking a photo of my cleavage from above. He then ran away to have a singing lesson, and I sprinted after him, furious. I barged into the classroom of his singing teacher and he looked at me all mortified, holding up his phone while deleting the photo and showing me the process. I nodded and left, and was kind of done with it honestly, but then his FEMALE teacher came at me all pissed about having disturbed her sacred lesson, uttering the words NO ONE DISTURBS MY CLASS LIKE THAT.
Of course I tried to explain to her what he had done, but she wouldn’t listen and told me it didn’t matter; the reason for my disturbance was irrelevant.
What upset me most about this situation was not the fact that a hormonal and horny teenage boy snapped a shot of my monster tits, because although I was also young, I knew that teenagers are stupid sometimes and I kind of forgave him for it. But having a grown woman tell me that her precious teaching was worth more than my personal boundries, pissed me off to the core. I still feel a certain anger towards her whenever I think about her.
I hope she feels embarrassed if she reads this.