I Don’t Understand ‘Love’ in Sexual Harassment — A Founders Perspective
Sexual harassment either as a female founder, a male founder, a young dynamic founder or just basically a human — it’s been shoved and swept under the rug we call society.
We talk about sexual harassment in serious tones but we laugh about it when someone explains their situation or shows a different reaction from what you’ve expected the reaction to be.
Basically — WE JUDGE
So today, after a recent incident which brought up my past memories that I’ve shoved and kept in the dark hole of my brain — I’m going to talk about it so that no men, women, human will have to be subjected to this vile situation or be judged because you were not wailing your eyes out .
In life, one thing I’ve realized is that when you’ve been dealt a bad hand you stomach it and make sure the bad hand is the best hand. However, during this process, all the pain, losses and experience numbs out your emotions. These experiences are called trauma — when you constantly get hit by different types of traumatic incident — you stop crying instead you leave it on the back burner and forget about it.
I mean who has the time to waste wallowing about trauma when you can do something that takes your attention away and fulfill your mission — Am I Right?
My First Experience
It was a Tuesday, wearing my Harry Potter Pj’s ( I was a Slytherin) I was perched on the corner of my dorm snuggled with the Sorcerer Stone. To be completely honest that’s the 5th time I’m reading it.
So, I’ve earned myself a months worth of suspension for burning down the Chemistry lab trying to do my own experiment. This experiment wasn’t even part of our syllabus ( for another 3 years). My parents basically ignored my existence and I was left to fend for myself.
My best friend ( at that time) told me her dad was dropping by. As per dormitory rule — parents and family are allowed to visit their children inside and if need to be can be seated in the dorm while waiting for their children.
So he entered, a balding man with beady eyes of a mouse, he wore a thin-framed glasses, his blue wind jacket and his crooked front teeth are something that I will never forget.
He sat there while I was reading — I greeted him ‘ Hello Uncle’ for he said hello. He then stared at me with his beady eyes and looked at my breasts and asked me how old are you. I told him, I’m turning 13 — he said those are some nice ‘Buns’ you have for a 13-year-old.
I was shocked and I knew this whole conversation is taking an awkward turn. So I told him — I shall stop talking to him. But he didn’t stop.
He’s slimy squid-like fingers moved up my shoulders as he explained on how my situation of being parentless is sympathetic and how he will be my ‘Daddy’.
His massage’s made me feel like someone’s taking a jagged knife and scraping through the flesh of shoulders. In my mind I see my skin melting and I was burning from the inside to punch him straight in his face. However, I was afraid.
Society has conditioned me to be afraid — It thought me that it was normal and that’s what people do. It thought me at that young age — accepting is better than fighting so I kept quiet.
I booked a ride back home ( or I thought it was) and ran out of my dorm. My school was looking for me, I had no money, I had nothing except the tears in my ears and the fear in my heart.
I ran to my home — I wailed but I was told that was the only way I can survive so I should accept it and live with it.
I walked down that cold road, with the rain wiping away my tears and I was determined that I won’t be the victim again. I grew into this principle it’s either beat or get beaten.
I’m 23 And It Started With ‘An Incident’
I’ve turned 23, I’ve failed, I’ve won well basically went through life as a giant journey. Unexpectedly came to the Big Apple — fell in love with the place, the people, the friends and the intelligence that surrounds this place.
However, I failed to remember that your past will come and hunt you down — or aim at you similarly.
In a bar, having drinks and you spot a man for this case we shall call him ‘Mr.X’- a silver fox in his early 40’s, tall and dark deep eyes that you assume you can have an amazing intellectual conversation with. After some time and a couple glasses of scotch on the rocks, you start getting philosophical.
He invites you over — to ‘reorganize’ his wine collection. It wasn’t much of a collection but you’re excited as a Food Scientist for all you know that could be your playground.
You walk in unsuspecting and the conversation comes up — ‘The Uphill Battle’ of starting your own company. However, I knew a great team could support all the challenges.
Funding ? his eyebrows raised to catch the moon. You say — do you know anyone that can hear your pitch.
He Say’s — I can even fund you, however there’s a condition to my offer.
You Ask- What ?
He says — ‘I Want To Have Sex With You’
You laugh, smile and in your head, it screams ‘Creep’. However you say, I’m not interested — however, thank you for the offer, better luck next time. You want to leave but your metro card is at home and you have enough to get an Uber back.
However, he says — it’s okay if you’re not interested but at least let me drop you back as a sign of friendship. Uncomfortable and twisting in your panties you say ‘Okay, Sure’.
The ride down the lit streets of Manhattan and Brooklyn seems so beautiful that you’re stunned by it. You cross the bridge you notice the silent movements of the water — the cars swishing past you and you see the edge of your street.
You say ‘Stop Here’ — He turns with his lips perched and his hands ready to grab your breasts. In a subconscious manner you raise your hands and grab his arm — you twist around and run out of the car.
You’re panting, your feet hurt from stomping on your boots and you realize you’re not far away from home.
The next day, you forget it as a bad dream and you put on a smile. You cook for your housemate and share all the stories. Brushing your teeth — Your phones shows you’ve got a new email. It’s the same person giving you the deadline.
You panic and your stories pour out of your mouth like water works, you run out of the house for some air — you find it hard to inhale and soon enough you realize you’re having a panic attack. Memories from the past integrate with the present and start tormenting you.
The messaging will go on for weeks with you aimlessly — try to solve it. You smile, laugh and party without showing the side of fear. Why because you promised yourself you won’t victimize yourself yet again. Why because you promised yourself you will be the voice for many others who can’t find theirs. Why because you promised yourself that being strong is the one way you can show compassion without being tossed to the curb.
The Un-Phased Reactions
You tell yourself it’s going to be fine — you put on your suit, your heals and your eyeliner. You walk out the door with your head held high and you sit with a cup of black tea and three sugars and with your phone on the side, You’ve changed your number but still, you wonder when it rings is it that person again.
You sit there writing your story — knowing your voice is powerful enough to make a difference and no one can ever stomp you down.