#metoo

Over the last week or so since the #metoo stories started circulating, I’ve wanted to speak up but haven’t been able to find the words. My first thoughts were, “how awful! This is deplorable!” but it also made me wonder if there’s a woman on the planet who hasn’t been victimized at least once in her life by a man’s gaze, words, or body. And it made me look back and wonder if what I’ve experienced is worth sharing, because it’s not as frightening and traumatizing as some of the other stories I’ve read. But what comes to the surface in my memories from years past still makes me cringe and want to scrub myself clean in the shower. The way these men made me feel has not diminished over time; each experience added another layer of fear and reminded me to always be extra cautious and especially vigilant when I felt vulnerable or isolated with members of the opposite sex.

In the schools and churches I attended as a preteen (and beyond), girls were told we should dress modestly to keep from drawing any unnecessary attention or tempting the boys. Navigating friendships and relationships as a teen was scary. I liked boys, but I was also unsure of their motives and didn’t want to accidentally consent to something I wasn’t ready for. I went to the movies with one of my best friends in 9^th grade. Her older brother, (whose name I can’t remember now) and his friend drove us. I barely knew the guys, but after the movie was over the friend grabbed me, shoved his tongue down my throat, and walked out. I gagged and spit nacho cheese Dorito bits out of my mouth, a little in shock at what had happened, but he was my only way home and I didn’t know what to do about it. (Years later, when asked about my first kiss, it upset me that this was the story.) When we arrived back at her house, I stayed in her bedroom for the rest of the night. The next morning, her stepdad was already seated at the table while her mom prepared breakfast. When I sat down in the chair next to his, he reached under the table and rubbed my inner thigh, asking how we slept. I froze and went silent, my heart beating so loudly I thought everyone could hear it. He removed his hand and after he left the table I called my mom to come pick me up. That was the last time I ever visited her house and our friendship fizzled after that.   

When I got a job at a large pet store chain when I was 15, there was a college-age guy who stocked the shelves. His name was BJ and he had worked there for several years. When I would leave my department to go to the bathroom or take a lunch break, he would follow me into the break room and talk to me. I was wary, because he asked personal questions and I wasn’t sure why he was interested in talking to me, because he was almost ten years older than I was. One day, he flat out asked if I had ever had sex. I told him no, that I hadn’t really even had a boyfriend. After that, he started asking me to go out with him, “I would love to show you a thing or two.” He would sometimes even detail some of the things he wanted to do to me. I was uncomfortable and didn’t know what to do or say, so I laughed it off and told him no thanks. On his last day, he was smoking outside the store when I was leaving for lunch and he said, “this is your last chance,” followed up by something so explicit I can't include it here. I said, “bye BJ,” and breathed a sigh of relief that I would never have to see him again. I didn’t realize until years later that most everything he ever said to me was sexual harassment.   

My first serious boyfriend was a sweetheart, and we dated through senior year of high school and the first few months of college. He accepted a scholarship to an out-of-state university and it was too much for me. I loved him and couldn’t bear to be apart; I was so depressed that I literally stopped eating (in an attempt to control something in my life, I would drink 2 liters of water but only allowed myself one snack size bag of Snyder’s mini pretzels per day) and lost 20 pounds in three months. I was incredibly insecure and constantly thinking of all the other girls he would meet in college and probably dump me for. I tried to break it off with him multiple times after he left, but he would get in his car and drive 8 hours home to convince me that he loved me and I had nothing to worry about. There was a guy at church whom I knew was interested in me, so to finally force him to accept the breakup, I lied and told my boyfriend I was interested, too.  I thought I was protecting myself from getting hurt, but I had no idea what was coming. 

You know how some people say they have no regrets about the past and wouldn’t take anything back? I would take back ever giving “church guy” the time of day.

Church guy, let’s call him Jay, was the most charismatic guy I had ever met. Our first one-on-one conversation took place at Starbucks. He told me he saw me during service and couldn’t take his eyes off me, I was so beautiful. I told him I had a boyfriend that I genuinely loved and wasn’t interested. He said, “that’s ok, I’m not worried about that. I can wait it out. Did you know your friend Beau is a good friend of mine, and your pastor has even invited me to lead worship? So you’ll probably be seeing a lot more of me around.”

He was right. I did see him around more. He was older, seemed smart and confident and strong in his faith. My mom loved him, mostly because he was a musician and would spontaneously drag out his guitar and play random songs. At the time, nineteen-year-old me thought it was endearing. I didn’t realize it was all part of the show.

I was still on the fence about dating him, and he was getting frustrated. One evening, he pulled me aside at church and said, “do you not see how God has orchestrated this, Jen? He’s spoken clearly to me and told me we’re supposed to be together. How are you not hearing the same thing?” I was so confused, because the only thing I was feeling toward Jay was apprehension. But I was naïve and insecure, and it seemed like he was obviously more in tune with God than I was; after all, he was a worship leader whom everyone loved. He even he spent his weekends volunteering with different inner-city ministries. I finally agreed to go out with him, thinking maybe I would develop feelings in time.

We had only been together a few weeks when he stayed so late at our house one night that my mom didn’t think he should drive back to his apartment. (My dad, an engineer, was managing a project in Atlanta at the time, and only home every other weekend or so.) She made up the couch in our living room as a bed for Jay and we both told him goodnight. I went upstairs to my room, closed the door and went to sleep. A couple hours later, I woke up and saw him on the floor next to my bed, cocooned in the blanket my mom had given him. I remember thinking, “I guess he just wants to be near me?” When I woke up again, Jay was in my bed, tugging my hips up and down over him, grinding his erection against me. I shoved him off my bed and said, “what are you doing?” At first, he tried to say he hadn’t done anything, that I must have been dreaming. I was shaking and told him I wanted him out of my room, but he refused to leave so I went into the bathroom and locked the door. He knocked on the door but I didn’t respond. All I could think in those moments was, “I knew it. I knew there was some reason not to trust him.” I had been hoping I would develop romantic feelings for Jay, but now I was disgusted and felt violated by him. He had forced himself on me, when we had barely even kissed. When I finally returned to my room, he tried to reach for my hands and pull me into a hug, but I wouldn’t let him. He wanted to discuss “The Incident,” saying he was sorry and got carried away. He said he had only intended to hold me while I slept but he cared about me so much he just couldn’t hold back. I told him I still wanted him to leave. He tried to get me to talk to him about other things but I was not about to let him think this could simply be brushed off as nothing. It didn’t make me feel “nothing,” it made me feel like screaming, crying and puking all at once. After he left, I called my pastor and asked if I could meet with him later that day. I can’t remember if I was comfortable telling him the explicit details of what Jay had done, but I remember telling him he climbed into my bed when I was sleeping and I pushed him away when I woke up. I said that I felt violated and unsafe around him and that I didn't want to be with him anymore, but didn’t know how to cut him out of my life. I said, “Even before this happened, he kinda creeped me out. He tries to touch or kiss me and I want to cry.” He went silent for a minute and then said, “well, ok. That’s not normal. How long have you felt this way?” I said, “Pretty much since I met him. But because everyone else thought he was such a great guy, I thought I was missing something and should give him a chance. Please help me.”  

I was advised to just avoid him, that it wasn't that big of a deal since I stopped him before anything really bad had happened. Again, it didn't feel like nothing to me, but I trusted my pastor. Even when he suggested that had Jay not been allowed to stay, this would never have happened. At the time, I agreed with him and accepted part of the blame for that, thinking "yes, some of this must have been my fault; if I had acted differently, maybe it never would have happened." I was hoping my pastor would support me by talking to Jay or asking him to step down or take a break from leading worship, but I didn't know how to ask for those things and he didn't offer to do either. After I left that meeting, I was unsure and scared to officially ending things with Jay, so I did what I was told and avoided him for a few days. I didn’t answer his calls or respond to his messages, which prompted Jay to started showing up everywhere. He would come to the pet store where I worked and walk the aisles or wait in his car until it was time for me to take a break or leave for the day.  He would also drive to my house when I wasn’t home and sit and talk with my mom until I got off work. Avoiding him at church was impossible, I couldn’t escape him so I asked friends not to leave me alone with him. The final straw came one morning when I was at work. He had a friend drive him to my store where he walked in and said “I’m either gonna need some money for gas or your car for the day.” I told him no, and he got upset, saying “I'll have it back before you get off work, it's not a big deal!” but he left. When I got off work that night, he was sitting on the hood of my car, waiting for me. Feeling safe with my coworkers beside me, I told him we were done. He got angry and said I should rethink my decision because he could make things really uncomfortable for me at church by telling my friends and pastor what a sinful person I was. He attacked my faith and told me I was “a lukewarm Christian with no heart that Jesus could make a home,” that I had zero spiritual fruit to prove my devotion to Christ, and I was an awful sibling/daughter that no one in my family truly loved, because I treated everyone so poorly, etc. I just said, “ok, that’s fine, you're right” until he was done. He threw in one last “Such false humility! God sees the real you just like I do!” before he finally left. A couple of my coworkers stood there with me until he was gone. I thought it was incredibly bold (and stupid) of him to say those things in front of them. But at that point, I was relieved to be free of him.  

I called my pastor to let him know we had broken up, but other than that I don’t remember sharing the details of what happened with anyone. True to his word, Jay told several of my friends how awful he thought I was. Months later, a friend that I looked up to like an older brother mentioned that he was on his way to meet up with him, and seemed to insinuate that I was to blame for our breakup and should have given Jay more of a chance. I wanted to say “guess he didn’t tell you what really happened,” but I didn’t. I continued to blame myself for most of it. I thought I should have been more confident, trusted my instincts and never agreed to date him in the first place. Looking back, I also wish I had known where to go, who to talk to, and how to fight back. Because I would have if I had felt supported.

It took a long time for me to get over how he made me feel about myself and other men. I didn’t trust any new guy I met after him, at least not enough to date them. The next two guys I dated I had been close friends with for several years. The first didn’t work out due to incompatibility (though we remain friends). I ended up marrying the second, who had known me for five years but still asked permission before he kissed me for the very first time.

So thank you, Jay. Not only do you serve as the example of the kind of man I will raise my boys NOT to be, but also for pointing me in the direction of my future husband; a man who is smart, strong, compassionate, respectful, genuine, sexy and kind… your complete opposite in every way. I told a friend, a former police detective, that I was writing this and asked if what you did to me would legally be considered harassment or assault, because I wasn’t sure. His reply was “that would be sexual battery, a class E felony.” I was legitimately stunned. I knew how deeply violated it made me feel, but until today I was clueless to the severity. A felony! Sexual battery? And I don’t realize this until almost 15 years later? I  would have never had the gall to say this to your face back then, but 2017 Jen wants you to know, you’re a disgusting fucking creep who should have been arrested for what you did.    

Seeing all the #metoo stories made me realize how sickeningly prevalent this behavior is in our world. I hate that women across the globe have experienced horrors similar to and a thousand times greater than mine, but I hope in sharing our stories we are finally getting the support we deserve. Be strong, courageous, and bold, sisters. Share your story if you feel you should (you may not want or need to and either choice is perfectly acceptable!), cling tight to your people (who would never condone behavior like this), and NEVER allow the darkness to extinguish your light.