***ME TOO***
In the wake of the Harvey Weinstein sexual assault scandals,
there’s a hashtag going around called #MeToo, where women share their stories
of sexual harassment/assault whether it’s in the workplace, public life,
school, the streets, or home. As I’ve stated many times before, I don’t often
give people a glimpse into my past because of my schizophrenia and how talking
about it actually makes the numb feeling worse. But after seeing so many of my
friends come out with stories like this, I feel empowered to talk about it as
well. Granted, I’m not a woman, but this isn’t an issue exclusive to one
gender. So now, I will recall for you, my lovely audience, the first time I’ve
experienced sexual harassment.
I was fourteen years old and going to high school in Chehalis , Washington
It was the first time I’d been harassed, but not the last.
My freshman year was based on beating the shit out of students who spread lies
about me dating an ugly woman (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but a
lie is a lie and sexual harassment is sexual harassment). Since then, I’ve been
mooned by marines, hit on by fat gay guys, and stalked by ex-girlfriends. I
won’t go into the intense details of those encounters, but they sucked just as
badly as my first time. Even now as I type this, my prophecy about bad memories
coming back is coming true. Hopefully, my audience will learn something from
this and my self-triggering won’t be in vain.
But then there’s another reason why I was hesitant to write
this: because I’d feel like a hypocrite if I did. In addition to being the
victim of sexual harassment, I’ve also been an unintentional perpetrator. I
never wanted to be that guy, but sometimes I’d crack an obscene joke that would
make the people around me uncomfortable. I used to have a Deviant Art friend
who photographed fetish models. Some of those accidentally stinging comments
were directed at her and her models. We haven’t spoken since then. It’s the
reason why I’m shy around women in the first place: I don’t want to offend them
and become that monster again. Even something as simple as saying, “You’re
beautiful” can be hurtful. I don’t like hurting people. I like being good to
them and making them feel respected. For all the people I’ve offended with my
comments, I’m sorry. I could say I’m sorry a thousand times, but it wouldn’t be
enough for me. I’ve been in those shoes before and I don’t want to put anybody
else in them.
Let these stories be a lesson to everybody out there. If
someone tells you to stop, you’d better stop. If they’re not capable of telling
you to stop, don’t cross that Moral Event Horizon and become the next Brock
Turner. I’ve never crossed the Moral Event Horizon, but I still feel terrible
every time I think about the women I’ve hurt with my crass jokes. Be careful
about what you say and do to the people around you. Don’t become the next
Harvey Weinstein or Donald Trump, two men who can never be forgiven for their
sins. It’s not worth the heartache. It’s not worth the lack of concentration.
It’s not worth feeling stupid over. Think before you speak, think before you
act.
***LYRICS OF THE DAY***
“From morning to night, I stayed out of sight. Didn’t
recognize I’d become no more than alive. I’d barely survive. In a word,
overrun. Won’t hear a sound from my mouth. I’ve spent too long on the inside-out.
My skin is cold to the human touch. This bleeding heart’s not beating much.
I’ve murmured a vow of silence and now I don’t even hear when I think aloud.
Extinguished by light, I turn on the night when it’s darkness with an empty
smile.
-Pink Floyd singing “Wearing the Inside Out”-
