Have you heard her story? The one where she was tricked into believing the touch she felt on her ass was merely her backpack sitting closely. The truth making itself known only by the sly smile and vile words thrown at her as she exited the train. Did you hear that she still carries the shame, the blame, the hurt, years later?
Have you heard their story? The one where they were followed home by men who didn’t seem to understand the “N” nor the “O”. Some forced in their apartments so they can truly understand what little power that word carries…what little power she carries? Do you know that she’s now hyperaware, ALWAYS? Something she’d learned to be at a very young age.
Have you heard my story? The one where I felt an unusual and unwanted touch on my thigh as I slept. The one where I woke to see him hurriedly walking away. The one where I stopped sitting in my not so grandfather’s lap. Did you know that I resented my mom for not warning me? Not warning me like she did about sex, pregnancy, the Big. Bad. AIDs? Did you know that I forgave her years later. Because, to warn me, would have been to reveal a secret of her own. She just wasn’t ready.
Have you heard our story? The one told by four girls sitting in their dorm room swapping stories. The one where one had no such tales to share. The one where I was in awe of the one, as if that were not the norm. As if the norm wasn’t consent. As if the norm wasn’t having our bodies be our own. Did you know that I still do not understand? How can that one not have even one story? Are there more like her?
As much as I’d love to claim this beautiful picture as my own. They can be found on StockSnap.io, where they have a wide range of free stock photos available for your use.