Me Too

There is a new movement happening--a movement against sexual harassment, against predators, and against molesters.  It's called Me Too.  It's a movement to call out those who generally want to make women feel less-than about themselves.  It's a movement to say--stop this now!

Some might do an eye-roll right about now.  Not all, but some.  And not all men either.  Many of those eye-rolls would come from women.  Those who evidently have not been sexually harassed or abused.  That's a little hard for me to believe though.  Not ever?  You've never had anyone whistle at you, or made catcalls as you've walked down the street minding your own business?  Never?  You've never felt vulnerable at night--walking your dog, or making a late night run to a convenience market? Well, I have.  To all of the above and then some.

I'll share some of my stories now--after all these years.  I'll tell you about some of those creepy uncle/family friend situations since most are deceased now.  Yep, I'm about to spill the beans.  I'll water it down some.  However, please know this--it wasn't watered down when it happened.  It was as scary as it comes.  I'm still afraid.  It's hard being female.  

The first time it happened to me, I was right around 6 years old.  I'm sorry that I don't remember the exact date or time, I was just a little girl, you see.  Only 6 years old.
My family was visiting my grandparents for the holidays.  Because it was a small home, I was sleeping on the sofa.  I remember waking up during the night and an uncle was sitting on the sofa right by my side--he was just staring down at me.  I woke with a start, and what I remember is this--he gave me the scariest smile that I had ever seen.  I began to yell for my mom as loud as I could.  My little 6-year-old voice screaming out--MOMMY! 
He just sat there leering at me, and he then slowly got up from the sofa and walked back into his bedroom.  My mom came in and when I told her what had happened, she said that it was probably a bad dream.  It wasn't.  But, I'll leave that there.  I wish she had believed me.

Over the span of my teenage years, many, and I mean many rude comments were made about my body, etc.  I eventually learned over the years to ignore it.  I was smart though, I always walked with friends (safety in numbers) and I tried to look "tough".  I wanted to present as one who could take care of herself.  All 5 feet of me.  I did not gain another 4 inches in height until I was almost a senior in high school.  So, I was small but well built, which was sadly a true detriment.  I wore a lot of sweaters to cover my body, even during those hot California summers.  I hated my body.  Hated it.

When I became an adult, I remember vividly the first few jobs that I applied for and the looks from the hiring bosses.  Uggggg.  
As I began working--out in the real world, my goal was for them to leave me alone.  Let me do my job and let me enjoy my life without the stupid and unjustified sexual comments.  That's all I wanted--to do my job.  However, with men being men (great sarcasm here) and oh so much "locker room talk"--you know how that goes.  Working in a man's world wasn't as easy as I thought it would be.

There was one set of doctors I worked for in particular.  One was absolutely fantastic to work with, a true gentleman, and the other--not so much.  He came up behind me one day, asking a question and when I turned around to answer him, he had a plastic penis sticking out on the end of his pen.  He thought my startled look was hilarious and went around the office telling everyone all about his "funny joke".  Did he even care about the way he made me feel?   Not even a little.  I do remember never ever wanting to be left alone in a room with him.  He made me feel unsafe.  I just instinctively knew that if he could--he would.  Fill in the blank.  I endured several years of working in that office with him.  Always making sure that I was never alone in a room.  Always looking over my shoulder, always wondering about my safety.

One situation that I will share now is one that truly broke my heart.  It happened right after I had my little baby daughter.  My father's best friend and business partner, along with his wife, wanted to come over and see the new baby as well as our new home.  I was excited to entertain them and to show off my new house and baby.  I had known them for years.  In fact, I used to babysit their 4 children when I was a teenager.  We had a history, a relationship, one that I should have been able to rely on and trust.  It was shattered that day though.  As I went into the kitchen to prepare the coffee, my dad's friend followed me, he came up behind me and began to try and wrap his arms around my waist.  He leaned in and started to tell me how I made him feel, and he tried to kiss me.  I remember shoving him away and telling him that I would tell my dad if he didn't leave me alone.  It was the first thing that popped into my mind.  I'll tell my dad. He laughed and said--I was just joking around.
Just joking around?  Are you kidding me?  That's what I wanted to say, but being young and naive, I ran out of the kitchen and acted as though nothing had happened.  I never told anyone.  Why?  Because I was so ashamed and embarrassed.  I thought maybe I had done something to provoke him. It had to be me, right?  Maybe I was dressed provocatively.  Maybe I walked just a little too sexy.  Maybe I...you fill in the blank.  So many thoughts with me rebuking myself.  It had to be my fault, right?  Needless to say, I never ever saw him again.  I never told my parents what he had done, and I never told my husband.  I didn't want to make a big deal out of it and I didn't want to stir up any trouble.  I didn't want to ruin relationships that were decades old.  However, in keeping that little secret, my heart was damaged.  Trust was shattered that day.  Memories ruined--and fear and distrust began to grow in my heart.

I think that might just be the key to these feelings of mine regarding sexual harassment.  Shame, fear, embarrassment--always assuming that the blame was mine and not wanting to cause problems for anyone.  Who would believe me anyway?

I have so many more stories just like these--years and years of them.  One happened at my church.  A so-called "friend" tried to block me from leaving a room and made advances towards me.  At another friend's home. I was trapped in a room with someone who made gross sexual comments to me.  I was so embarrassed!  There were 2 different times when men exposed themselves to me.  Once when I was a child and once as an adult.  So many stories.  I put up with so much because I was afraid.  I was humiliated.  Fear totally crippled me.  It really did.

In sharing all these stories, I do realize that I have much to be thankful for.  I was never sexually molested or raped.  I am so very thankful for that.  But, harassed?  Oh yes, so many times!  And I never told a soul.  Why is that?  What was I afraid of?  Why didn't I shout it from the rooftops right when it happened?   What was it that kept me from speaking up?  Why was I so afraid?

This is our society even today.  This is how it is in America.  This is what we let men get away with. So I say, let's do something to change that.  Let's teach our daughters and granddaughters to speak up. Let's believe them.  Let's stop this allowance of sexual harassment now.  Let's tell our stories and get the word out and let's start protecting ourselves and our children.  Why?  Because it's not OK.  No one has the right to do or say the things that were done to me.  No matter how I looked, no matter what I did.  No one had that right.  It sickens me now.  When I think of what I should have said or done at the time--when I think of the missed opportunities to shut those men down, and put them in their place!  I feel like I blew it big time.  I should have said something.  I should have stood up for myself.  There I go again--assuming blame.   It wasn't me!  It was them!  Shame on them!

No more.  Let's say Me Too!  And let's share our stories and be there for each other.  I will believe you.  Will you believe me?  I will protect you?  Will you protect me?  I sure hope so.

This Doesn't Make Sense

I'm going to get a little preachy here.  I can feel it.  I can tell.  So, if you would rather not read this--don't.  But, I need to write it.  It's how I process.  It how my brain works.  Pray.  Think.  Write.

I woke up Sunday morning just like the rest of America to an alarming story unfolding in our nation.  A horrific story.  And it didn't make sense to me.  Why, who, how?   Questions we all asked--of ourselves and each other.  We had a need, an internal desire to figure it out.  To rationalize it, and then somehow, I guess, we thought it would make it all better.  At least I did that.  It's my nature.  It's in my DNA to try and rectify and grapple with the goings on of this world around me.

The first day, I listened.  To the news, to other's opinions, to my own thoughts.  I empathized with the hurting--with the parents who lost children, and husbands who lost wives, etc.  I had tears in my eyes, and I shook my head in disbelief.  How could this happen?  We all wanted to know.  How did this guy get into a hotel with so many weapons with the purpose of killing so many people?  And, what was his motivation?  My thoughts went to this conclusion--a psychotic break with reality, a mentally disturbed person--something had triggered his decision to do what he did.

The second day, as I processed the entire story as it was unfolding--I prayed.  I asked God to show me why a person would do such a thing.  It just didn't make sense to me!  And, as my mind usually does--my thoughts wandered.  I thought of all the other things in this world that don't make sense to me.  Divorce, cheating, lying, stealing, human trafficking, death, disease, drug use, along with hurricanes, earthquakes, and many other natural disasters--you name it, and most likely I thought about it.

As I mulled over these items--one thing stood out.  They did not make sense.  I could not reconcile them.  They confused me.  They brought me distress.  I thought of the deaths of my nephews.  Why?  Why did they have to die?  I thought of friends of mine who had been cheated on.  Why?  Why did they have to go through that?  I ended up having so many whys in my prayer that I just had to take a breath, settle down, and then listen.  I had to listen to what God was speaking to my heart.

So, this morning as I was driving to meet my friends for our regular Tuesday morning Bible Study--as I was singing and worshiping God in my car--it came to me.  Nothing in this world makes sense.  Nothing but God.  He makes sense.  He alone, He is what I understand.  He is the only constant steady entity in my life.  The only sure thing.  He's the only person who will never leave me.  He'll never divorce me, cheat on me, die on me.  He's the only person whom I can trust.  With my whole heart.  He is it.  He makes sense.

There I was driving, trying not to cry (or crash my car) and trying to act as normal as possible when I met with my friends this morning.  I was a little more quiet than usual.  I was still processing the fact that God made sense.  I was still "having a moment" with God and probably should have just kept on driving, but I love being with my friends, so I got out of my car and went inside.  However, all I could think about was that God made sense.  And honestly--how do I convey that?  It sounds too simple.  And it is.  But, it's not.

As a human, as a person, I see things through very dim lighting.  Every once in awhile though, God turns that light on real bright.  Just for me.  Just when I need it.  Just when I think I'm going down for the count.  Just when I'm almost to the point of losing all hope--BAM, there goes the light.  He turns it on and He drops a beautiful nugget of truth right into my heart.  He said this to me--I make sense.  And that's all I needed.  I just needed to hear from Him.  To hear His voice.  His still small voice, that brings me comfort and peace.

Just to know that He is God.  That He's still there.  That He's all I need.  And that He makes sense.

So, yeah, I'm a little preachy today.  I'm a little overwhelmed by the mighty goodness and power of God.  As humans continue to do things that don't make a lick of sense to me--God steps in, and God makes sense.

Today, I will continue to pray.  I will read my Bible and study.  I will get know God even better.  And, I will continue to say--God makes sense.  He has this all under control.  God is sovereign, and He makes sense.  And I am so very thankful.