I recently celebrated my 18th birthday. Considered a huge milestone for many teens, finally becoming an adult, expectations of the light at the end of the tunnel and my freedom washed over me. The experience was anything but. Among the handful of beautiful celebratory messages from friends and family stood one sentence that sat me down and caused me to reflect about what it means for a woman to turn 18 in this country.
An Instagram message buzzed my phone awake. On the screen: a man that interacted with me months earlier about my “mysteriousness,” whatever that means. A queasiness flooded my stomach. I stared at the message, wishing that I would have just blocked him all that time ago. I had the courage to open it a day or two later. The message read, “I know you 18 now.” Only two weeks after I became a legal adult, this grown man messaged me; reading it felt like a punch in the gut. It was nauseating to realize how many grown men were waiting for this moment.
I recalled an experience when a man approached me at a park when I was with a few friends of mine. We figured it would be nice to go sit in the sun for a break during lunch. Sitting with our backs against a fence, observing the people going about their lives, I had my eye on this one guy; something just felt off. I considered it a misjudgment, that my guard was up for no reason. The man and his dog came towards our group and just started blabbering on. The conversation seemed fine, until he asked me and my friends how old we were. When I said I was 17, he replied, “Oh shit, you’re almost legal.” He looked at me with this toothy smile, letting out a nauseating belly laugh as he lit his Backwood.
This was one of many comments I faced while I was 17, but it started earlier than that. 16, 14, 12, 10… My whole life. It has been my whole life. My entire childhood, so many people, mainly men, anticipated my body becoming legal, watching in impatience as I “matured.”
As I look back, I feel somewhat hopeless. I cannot recall a time, or age, more specifically, when I wasn’t sexualized. And I know I’m not the only one. In fact, every woman I have ever met faced sexual harassment or assault at some point during adolescence.
Because of this, I grew to hate my body. I hated the reaction people had to it. I felt like I was chained to it. I tried my best to separate my mind and body to handle these situations. I felt like, and was treated as if, I was only a vessel for sex. Society pressures women to feel this way. The female body is consistently only viewed from objectifying sexual perspectives. It’s normalized to see women as nothing but bodies.
Most of my experiences have been brushed off. I disregarded them myself. I often made jokes or ignored the pain I felt as a way to cope, even if I didn’t understand that at the time.
At a festival, a grown man who wanted to “party” chased me down. Another man, at that same festival, went up to me while I was just trying to enjoy my time, listening to music and dancing with my girls. He whispered in my neck that I had a beautiful body and that he had a backstage pass while I pulled away. I made jokes about it because I was afraid to bring down the vibe, but then it became a thing. People I barely knew reiterated the joke, further normalizing the objectification of my body, unaware of the impact it had on me. I couldn’t walk around the festival with the comfort of safety or community anymore. I was constantly shifting my eyes to monitor where every man that was even near my path.
I eventually realized what happened was never funny. I was uncomfortable and didn’t know how to express it. This is a coping mechanism for a lot of people who experience similar aggressions.
My experiences taught me to be relentless. Most women who advocate for themselves are labeled as a “b*tch” or lambasted for protecting themselves. It’s hard to negotiate protective feelings versus societal praise. One of the most difficult aspects of being sexualized is the feeling of having no defense. Women often feel stuck between protecting themselves from being chastised, or backing down and fawning their way out of the situation.
Your protection should take priority over maintaining a particular social perception. I’ve been called an up-tight “skank” when I was sexually harassed, and it hurt. But I knew my truth. I knew what I needed to do to protect my peace and preserve my safety. It’s a hard thing to learn.
Unfortunately, most of the time, women, or anybody really, will have no choice but to defend themselves because no one else will. It’s disgusting that this world and its society seemingly has no cure nor care for this horrific (and common) evil. Sometimes the best and most immediate defense to take is to stand your ground, stay away or diffuse the situation if possible. If not, be stern or even aggressive. Aggression is not talked about enough. It doesn’t always prevent the situation or de-escalate it, but it shows a sense of strength and fearlessness, even if you don’t feel like you have it.
Knowing that so many people share the awful experiences of sexual assault or harassment is helpful in the healing process. Find those people, share those stories, confide in each other, and learn that healing will come. Realizing that you went through a life-altering event, digging deeper into those thoughts, and exploring how painful it was is so important to overcome the affliction. It takes time; do not push yourself to forget, or get over it, because that is not what heals you.
Unfortunately, it is something I and many others will continue to battle. That is, until my body is deemed unfruitful. When all the pleasures of my life experience will engrave itself into my skin, and I begin to wrinkle, and I am no longer valued in the sexual nature of our society. I wait for that day, and I beg it brings me peace.
If this is something you are struggling with, North Cost Rape Crisis Team offers hotlines, peer counseling, reporting services, and referrals. Emergency hotline numbers are (707) 445-2881 (Humboldt County) and (707) 465-2851 (Del Norte County). On-campus crisis counselor Lauren Petru is also available.