No. Does It Mean No?
This isn’t a piece with answers. This is a piece with questions, lot’s of them.
Why do I struggle to say no? It’s such a simple word, too little letters, yet so powerful, and one that rarely escapes my lips.
And yet it’s so much more than this simple word: it’s about my inability to stand up for myself, and my failures to let people know when I’m uncomfortable. When I think back on my inability to say no, my earliest memory is that of my first “boyfriend” in fifth grade. He asked me to be his date for a school dance, and I genuinely thought I had to say yes. He was the “cutest boy” in my grade and all my friends said I had to go with him. Having a guy be interested in me made me feel valued. But even when it got overwhelming, calls to my house daily, boxes of chocolates, attempted kisses, I still struggled to tell him I was uncomfortable and uninterested. When I finally worked up the courage to tell him I didn’t like him, it completely backfired. He would mock me at recess in front of all my friends, tease me, and make fun of me for being so tall. I remember one recess he ran up to me with a group of friends in tow, and an empty pill container in his hand that he had found on the ground. “Look Norah, I think you dropped your steroids!” Everyone around him cackled, and I remember crying the whole walk home that day, wondering if it would have been better if I had just liked him back.
“Uhhhh.”
I wish someone had told me, at the young age of 11, that it’s okay to say no, and it’s okay not to like someone just because they like you. Because unfortunately, that asshole in elementary school was just the beginning of what ended up being my long road of uncomfortable experiences with guys.
“Why not?”
Freshman year of high school I was explicitly cat called by a man who looked like he was well into his 50s, and I was utterly disgusted.
I was shocked into silence as he yelled gross things at me, and fortunately my friend, being way more confident and outspoken then I’ll ever be, yelled back at him.
But what if I had been alone, would he have just kept yelling obscenities at me as I shuffled away in silence? And what about the girls who don’t have confident friends to stand up for them?
This became normalized and by the age of 14 society was telling me that I had to get used to it. What girl hasn’t been cat called, or sexualized by a stranger? We’ve all been subject to men yelling dirty words at us, or groping us with their eyes as if we’re objects. Why, at 14, was this something I had to get fucking used to?
“I don’t want to.”
Junior year of high school I got my first unsolicited “dick pic.”
I was appalled. What would make a guy think that was okay?? My friends laughed when I told them, and told me he was just trying to flirt. I didn’t want to jeopardize our friendship by getting mad, or telling him how uncomfortable it made me, so I just pretended it never happened. Anyway, I should have just taken it as a compliment right?
“Come on!”
Freshman year of college I entered into the world of hookup culture.
Hookups were commonplace, and it was a whole new world that I was utterly unprepared for.
How was I supposed to know if I actually wanted to hookup with someone when I was six shots deep? I didn’t know how to say no sober, would I ever be able to say no drunk? How was I supposed to explain that me kissing them didn’t mean I wanted more? Even when sober, did me hanging out with a guy automatically make them think I was interested?
I didn’t want to be put in an uncomfortable situation, but the admiration of guys was seen as a good thing, so I put myself in uncomfortable situations, still not having the power to say no. And I regret it. I hate that I wasn’t confident enough in myself to say no when I needed to. But even more, I fucking hate that there are people out there that think that my no, or my feeble attempts at it, aren’t enough for them to listen to.
“I’m sorry, I don’t do that.”
The summer after my sophomore year I had my first big deal internship! I was living in a big city, with a paid position and everything, I was so excited.
One of my fellow interns and I became friends within the first few weeks, but it quickly got weird. He would whistle when I walked in the room and tell me excessively personal information about his sex life. He found out I had a boyfriend, but even that didn’t stop him. He would make jokes about blow jobs, and once said I should break up with my boyfriend to date him.
With each joke he made, it became more and more normalized. I never knew how to respond to something so outlandish, so I’d laugh. And with each laugh he continued to think his behavior was acceptable.
I wish I had shut him down.
I wish I had told him that his words made me incredibly uncomfortable, but I couldn’t.
I didn’t want him to hate me, I didn’t want to lose one of my only friends in the office, I didn’t want to lose the values that being the “chill girl” in the office had. I was worried I would be viewed differently and valued less; I couldn’t risk it.
“Oh come on, it’s college!”
When I was abroad, a fellow American classmate sat next to me one day in class. I was relieved to be meeting another student who spoke fluent English, and I excitedly chatted with him, pleased by the familiarity of our common tongue.
When class got started he sat there nudging me, attempting to play footsie, and smirking at me when I turned to him.
I wanted him to stop. I wasn’t interested, and frankly, his nudges and passing of notes was distracting as I desperately tried to understand the professor’s Spanish.
Yet, I didn’t tell him to stop.
I didn’t tell him I had a boyfriend, and I didn’t tell him that his nudging, smirks, and laughs made me uncomfortable. Instead, I laughed, smiled back, and sat there uncomfortably hoping it wouldn’t continue more than the few weeks it lasted.
“Are you sure?”
Even now, I’m in a happy relationship and I still sometimes feel bad telling guys I’m not interested.
Just a few weeks ago a guy asked for my number and I felt like I had to give it to him. Even when he was texting me I felt weird, or rude for telling him I had a boyfriend and wasn’t interested.
I’ve done the same same thing before, not only because I felt weird, but because I’ve realized the different ways guys will treat me if they know I have a boyfriend.
I feel like by telling a man I’m in a relationship, for some reason I get less out of that friendship or relationship. It’s as if the possibility of something happening between us makes them treat me better. And in certain settings, such as the workplace, the unfortunate reality is that I don’t want to risk potentially beneficial professional relationships, assistance, or connections just because them knowing I have a boyfriend will make them treat me differently. It’s as if we lose value in their eyes as soon as they realize we’re not interested.
How fucked up is that? Is that all we are, something you can date? Something to pursue?
“Ummm.”
There are so many other uncomfortable experiences in between and after these, some that I can’t even think to write about. As uncomfortable as each experience makes me, I’m so thankful that each experience thrust me into the place of confidence I occasionally find myself in today. I’m not happy any of these experiences happened, but I’m happy I’ve begun to learn from them.
“Come on, why not?!”
But that shouldn’t be the preferred path. I shouldn’t have to be cat called to know it’s gross and unacceptable. I shouldn’t have to be sent a dick pic to realize that it’s not okay for a guy to shove his dick in my face over the phone. And no, it’s not just flirting. We need to be teaching young children that it’s okay to say no. And if you don’t push back or say no, it’s not your fault! We need to engrain these messages into everyone’s head, because nobody should have to be sexualized at the age of 14, when they barely even know what sex is.
“I guess..”
My stories and experiences aren’t representative of this issue in any way, but I’m scared to realize how relatable they are.
Every friend of mine has a story just like this, some with stories much worse. And yet we’re told to take it like a compliment. It’s just “boys being boys.” “He’s just flirting!” I don’t get it.
Why are we told that this behavior is acceptable?
Why have I spent such a large portion of my life putting up with it?
Am I the only one who feels this way?
Am I the only one who feels uncomfortable in these types of situations?
Does it reflect more on me than the situation I’m in?
I know there are people out there who will stand up and defend themselves against anything and everything, but that’s just not me. I wish I had answers, but I don’t. In fact, the only thing I’m confident in, is that these awkward encounters will continue. And hopefully, someday soon, I’ll have the full confidence to say no.
