Me too....sort of

When the news broke about Harvey Weinstein, Matt Lauer and others, women felt safe to reveal their own experiences with sexual assault by men in their pasts. Mr. L inquired if every woman in America had been sexually assaulted, to which I replied, "not all have been assaulted, but I would be willing to bet that almost 100% of women have been sexually harassed."  That was an opinion offered without much thought. I decided to look up the definitions of "assault" and "harassment," and discovered that my answer to Mr. L's question was pretty accurate...to me.  I say, "to me" because I have not been the victim of assault. I imagine if I had, my definition would be quite a bit broader than it is. 

According to Webster, "assault" is: 1. A violent physical or verbal attack; 2. A threat or attempt to inflict offensive physical contact or bodily harm. To "harass" someone, according to Webster is 1. To annoy or bother someone in a constant or repeated way; 2. To create an unpleasant situation by uninvited or unwelcome verbal or physical conduct.  My opinion is all I have here, but it seems to me that the difference in assault and harassment is the level of fear for one's safety, which, in some ways, keeps those definitions fluid. That definitions of certain life events can be fluid according to experience, is a concept I did not grasp several years ago. I wish I had. I try hard to understand that now.  

So, with all the news and in light of my conversation with Mr. L, I tried to think back as to whether I, personally, had ever been sexually assaulted or harassed.  Others may disagree with my assessment, but I have never been assaulted. I have, on a few occasions, been harassed. I had a relative that, as he aged, lost some of his filter and thus some of his sense of decorum. Those who did not know him as the intelligent, dignified young man he once was, might have described him in his later years as "a dirty old man."  When I was a teenager, on Thanksgiving, he came to my room to greet me. He grabbed me, we both fell on my bed. I scrambled to get out from under him, convinced myself that he had simply stumbled.  Later in the day, I told my parents about it and they had a come to Jesus meeting with him. I was disgusted by his behavior, but I was never afraid. 

In high school, I had one date with a boy who, for some unknown reason, thought I was interested in an exceptionally amorous parting at the end of the evening. He was quite persistent. To his credit, he got the message at my second emphatic "no."  He did feel the need to share my frigid nature with everyone at school the next day, but, frankly, I think he did me a huge favor. I was totally grossed out by his behavior, but I was never afraid. 

A young man once exposed himself to me from his car as I walked down Church Street in Downtown Nashville. To say I was shocked and appalled is an understatement. I responded like I often do when I get nervous, I laughed uncontrollably. I was repulsed, but I was never afraid. I have no idea what my laughter did for his self-esteem. 

In college, some male person called me numerous times. He knew things about me. He said the most vile things.  Every time, after the first time, I hung up on him. My brothers wanted me to set a time and place to meet him so they could go in my place and "take care if him."  I was repulsed, and a bit wary, but I was never truly afraid. 

After I had children, my mom and I went to Gatlinburg for a high school football game where my younger sister was cheering. We went to support her. She tried desperately to ignore our presence, and was quite successful, I might add. My mom fell on her patio about an hour before we left town. Later we learned that she had broken her elbow and damaged her knee. All I knew was she could not dress herself nor navigate very well. One of my children went with us.  Unfortunately, on this particular weekend said child was a holy terror. At the ballgame, on a very cold night, I was sent to the concession stand to get snacks for our small motley crew. As I stood in line, a man sidled up behind me and began to rub my backside. Are you freaking kidding me? This on top of all the rest of the misery of this trip?  I spun around and told him to back up. Oh, I wanted to slap his leering face, but I was never afraid. As an aside, on the morning we were leaving Gatlinburrg, I was in the bathroom of a restaurant cleaning up holy terror child from the mess that had been made during breakfast, when a waitress came into the restroom to tell me that my mother had fallen in the dining room. Wow!  

Once getting on an elevator with two nicely dressed business men, one of them said, "you're taking your life in your own hands getting in the elevator with the two of us."  Really?  I thought he was an ass, but I was never afraid. 

Having said all this, let me add that I don't think men can fully appreciate how vulnerable women feel. I have stepped off elevators plenty of times because something just didn't feel right. I get extremely nervous when I hear someone walking up behind me. I lock my doors as soon as I get in my car in parking lots and any time I am downtown. I never open my door to anyone I do not know. I have never been a fan of wolf whistles or cat calls from men on the street. I consider it crude and ungentlemanly. I can only imagine how much more disgusted and fearful I would be had I ever actually been assaulted. I was raised with men who protected the women in their lives. I am fortunate that my naïveté did not get me into dangerous situations. So, yes, I believe nearly 100% of women have been sexually harassed. I suspect it has been perpetrated by a small percentage of men. Ah, for want of the new heavens and the new earth where no one assaults nor harasses.