Evolution of Medusa: A Chronology

My husband claims I'm radically feminist. I simply believe that women are socially and politically equal to men. I particularly believe no one should be the victim of sexual violence, male or female. This belief stems from a lifetime of facing harassment, being felt up, rape, and a stalking.

My first experience with sexual harassment was in junior high, 8th grade, age 14. As an 8th grader, one privilege was having a top locker, and this locker was prime junior high real estate! It was central to my various classes in addition to closeness to my friends.There was this 6th grade kid (a football player) whose locker was close by. It started with obscene comments and "accidental" brushings. It escalated to this kid grabbing my buttocks. I reported the problem
to the principal, who dismissed my allegations with the typical "he said/she said" rhetoric. I asked the principal to move the kid's locker, but he (the principal) said he couldn't move the kid's locker. I lost my locker. I moved to an inconvenient, bottom locker, but the harassment stopped. This taught me a lesson: don't report your problems because NOTHING will be done to stop it.

A year or two later, I was in high school. Another guy began to harass me between classes. I repressed these memories, but according to my mother I would go home from school crying because the terror was so bad. If the guy, a football player also, wasn't there to harass me, he would get his buddies to harass me. I never reported the harassment because my junior high experience taught me that nothing would be done to this guy. The harassment stopped when my father paid another guy $100 to get the harasser football jock off my back. I don't know what happened, and I didn't know the hired gun. He has my undying gratitude, though. In retrospect, I wish I had reported this situation to my school principal, just so I could know if there would have been repercussions. Probably not, since he played football (in Texas, football rules everything), he was African-American and I'm Caucasian, and because the same rhetoric of "he said/she said" no proof blah blah blah.

The summer between my junior and senior years I got the opportunity to attend a Christian college in west Texas. My best friend graduated a year before me and joined the military. When she came home late that summer to visit, we went to a club that allowed 18 year olds in after hours. At 17, I lied and used my college ID to get in. I just liked to dance. A guy asked me to dance, so I consented. I did not consent to him feeling me up and shoving his tongue down my throat. I could not get away. He finally had to go to the restroom, so I told my friend I was leaving and if she wanted to get home, she'd better come with me. She caught up to me at the exit; I was panicking and couldn't get out
the door. It was my "first kiss", technically, taken by force in a vulgar manner. I prefer to claim the kiss on my cheek from my pre-school boyfriend as my first kiss. It makes a nicer story. By this point in my life, I figure I don't need to be bothered with males, period.

So, then I went to college. I met a girl who was local and introduced me and others to her friends. I experienced several unwanted advances, including fondling. None were as bad as the allegedly "nice guy" who raped me the last night of my freshman year. I got a reputation of being frigid because I fought back. One guy pinned my arms up and grabbed my breasts. When he released my arms, I reached behind me and grabbed his groin. I squeezed my hand and dug my fingernails in so severely that I caused significant pain through thick denim jeans. A minor victory for me! But there were other instances throughout my college years. I eventually obtained a reputation of being "frigid" because I didn't date. And why should I have dated? No one who expressed an interest in me proved himself to be worthwhile. Perverted, socially inept, vulgar, crude, rude, aggressive, these are not qualities I was looking for in a boyfriend.

During my college years, I also acquired a stalker. He worked for the university in the gardening/lawn care department. At first, I didn't think he was threatening. I took a job as a waitress at a restaurant. When he came into the restaurant looking for me, I realized this was not a normal situation. My boss ran him out of the restaurant the second time he came in to "visit" me. I took a year off from school, around the time I got married (I did find the one man I can tolerate and can tolerate me in turn!). When I returned to finish my degree, my stalker found me again. One morning before my first class, he was threatening and would not allow me to get to my class on time. I got scared. I left my class and went to the campus police station. I was stunned because the policeman I spoke to took me seriously! The first time anyone had taken my situation seriously! The officer asked me why I didn't report this problem sooner. The next time I went to my class, my husband and father-in-law escorted me, at a distance. I never saw my stalker again. I don't know if the campus police got to him, or if he saw the large angry men escorting me to class, but it stopped. What scared me most was that he knew my car. He could have found my home because he found me at work.

I have other stories, like the migrant worker coming on to me and trying to kiss me against my will. Or the various unwanted butt or breast grabs I've experienced. These are the reasons I have always taken a stance against sexual violence. The breaking point, for me, was learning that HE raped my friend, too. That was the point I realized I have to speak out, end my silence. I cannot tell her story, or the stories of the other women I know who have been raped and shared their stories with me. I have to speak. I have to tell my stories. I think Medusa has been evolving within me since that first experience of sexual
harassment in junior high. She came to fruition September 13, 2010 when I confirmed HE raped another, my very good friend. I will not stop until we end the violence. If that makes me a "radical feminist", then I embrace that label. Medusa rages on!