The first quarter my freshman year of college, this happened to me.
Someone I met through a mutual friend asked me to go to a party with him, and he seemed nice, so I agreed. I didn't know anyone else at the party, and I was still that shy kid trying to get accustomed to how loud America was, and so I stuck close to him the whole night. He introduced me to other people as his girlfriend, and told me it was just for ease of reference to his friends. I didn't want to alienate the only person I knew in the room so I shrugged and went along with it. I was dressed pretty that night - if he wanted to inflate his ego in front of his friends I was okay with that.
It was a cold night and I was still thin-skinned from the heat and humidity of Singapore. I patted myself on the back for layering on tons of layers beneath my dress - I had literally dug out every single piece of clothing that wouldn't show under my long-sleeved dress, and was wearing about 2 vests and a leotard strategically to keep warm. Still, it was cold, and he gave me his jacket. We went out into the garden of the house party and walked around, and he asked if he could kiss me. I laughed and said he'd had too much to drink, and that he knew I had a boyfriend. He dropped it and we went back to the party.
At the party, he took my hand. I suddenly realized he'd introduced me to everyone there as his girlfriend, and to everyone, he just seemed like a nice, caring guy who was taking care of his girlfriend. I started becoming anxious because I didn't know anyone else there, and I didn't know if anyone would believe me or help me if things became more uncomfortable. The night went on, and finally he decided to leave the party - we'd arranged to Uber to the party together, and Uber back after, and I had no other way of getting home myself so I had to wait for him (this was when Uber was still a novelty). As we were standing together waiting for the Uber under the night sky, he leaned over and asked, "so, about that kiss..." This time, he didn't wait for an answer.
I was scared, I was anxious, and I didn't feel like I could have said no anyway - what if I said no, and he flipped shit, and left me stranded in the middle of nowhere? So I didn't push him off me. The Uber came; we got in, and I was so thankful that there was a 3rd party there, because surely he wouldn't try to kiss me again in front of someone else, right? I had 5 minutes of anxiously staring out the window and wondering where we were when he kissed me again, and tried to reach up my skirt. This time, I pushed his hand away from down there. He interpreted my "don't..." as coy teasing, and begged: "please? Just let me touch it?" and reached up my skirt again, trying to find the band of my underwear so he could pull it down. I had never been more thankful that I was wearing a leotard.
We finally reached my place, and he asked if he could come in with me. "Uh, haha, um, no, I have a final tomorrow," I said.
"So if you didn't have a final, you'd let me come home with you?" he asked. I just laughed weakly in response. Thankfully, he left it at that and went home.
I went back to my room. It was midnight and I was so sleepy, but couldn't sleep due to the adrenaline coursing through my body. I crawled under the covers and kept shivering. I wanted to tell someone but I didn't know who I could tell. I kept asking myself what I could have done different to prevent this - maybe I shouldn't have dressed up prettily? Maybe I should have been more assertive about saying no and meaning it. Maybe I shouldn't have trusted him.
But that's the thing. He WAS a nice guy. I don't know if he knew how scared I was, or how I wasn't able to consent to anything - because guys are taught that coyness is a come-on in girls: "No means yes," they tell them in school. They see that in the media - James Bond forcing himself on women, who only protest until his lips touch theirs, and then they melt into puddles of feminine affection, and they learn that to get a girl to love you, you just have to kiss them until they do - no matter if they struggle or seem less than comfortable; hold the kiss long enough and they'll eventually be all yours.
That's why seeing Trump get elected was terrifying for me. Not only because it's a slap in the face to hard work (and that's another thing we can talk about another time), but because it sends the message to young, impressionable, and otherwise nice guys that it's okay to talk about grabbing women by the pussy. Even if they protest. Even if they shrink away and say no. Because once you've grabbed them by the pussy and asserted your dominance over them, they melt into puddles and you too can marry an Eastern European supermodel. You can do all of that, and still become President.
We're seeing it come out in many people. For some, it's always lurked near the surface, and this has just provided them with all the social acceptance that they need to let it out in public. But it's those "nice guys" that I worry about. The ones who DO want to do right by women, but have been shaped by society to think that it's perfectly fine to treat women in this way. We reinforce this when we elect people like Trump. We reinforce this when we publish Brock Turner's All-American swimmer photo and let him get away with 3 months in jail and call it "20 minutes of action".
That night, I shivered under the quilt, sleepless. I didn't tell my then-boyfriend what had happened. I didn't know what to say to him. Instead, I picked up my phone and texted my two best friends - "omg, I went to a party last night and got sooo drunk and made out with the cutest guy." I thought if I could pretend that I wanted it all along, I wouldn't become one of Those Girls who got assaulted. I thought I could reclaim my independence and autonomy as a woman.
It's been a long time since that day, and I've come to terms with it a lot. That's not to say that it hasn't impacted me. For a long time, I viewed every guy with trepidation - and the whole "mmm, you seem nice, but so did he" still lurks in the back of my mind from time to time. I still get unreasonably upset and angered sometimes when someone brings up something that reminds me of that incident - for example, when one of my close male friends (thankfully, my relationships with the male friends I had prior to this incident haven't been affected - though all subsequent ones have) came over to stay in my room for Thanksgiving, and someone said, "Well, just know that he's a guy, sleeping in your room, and if anything happens it's your fault," I nearly crashed the car I was driving at the time in fear and rage because all the blame I felt that night in freshman year came flooding back.
But what can we do now? We can rage against the system, we can rage against the man who the rest of this nation has elected President. But none of that is helpful, and I still don't have all the answers. I can barely fix myself - let alone prescribe policies to fix the rest of the nation. All I can see are baby steps forward - making sure the guys I interact with know enough to treat women properly, and making sure that any sons and daughters I may have in the future will both understand the same, and hopefully pass on that knowledge to their friends. And now that I know what it's like to be in an uncomfortable situation, I'm always on the lookout for other girls - they say we move in packs, and I want to be "the pack" for other girls who are experiencing less-than-comfortable situations like I once was.
Girls, we only have each other. In tumultuous times like these, please keep safe, and please keep each other safe. We are truly stronger together.
