The Biden Dilemma

I can’t remember my exact age, but I was in a daycare program after school. The sun was out and it wasn’t too hot, so Tommy* (*not his actual name) and I were playing on one of those plastic playground sets outside in the back courtyard. In his exuberance, he came up to me, held me down, and kissed me twice. Pretty forcefully.

I remember running back inside. Obviously upset, one of the workers asked me what was wrong. When I told her, she gave me a smile and said, “that just means he likes you.” And went about her day.

At no time was Tommy reprimanded for holding me down. “Oh, he’s a hyperactive child!” she carried on when I was still upset. It was the days before ADD and ADHD, so “hyperactive” was used. But, at no point was I reassured with anything other than he liked me.

He liked me. I kept wondering what I was supposed to do with that information. He liked me. All I knew was, I did not like him as anything more than a friend and I did not like him touching me. But I was still supposed to find his actions as a compliment. That’s how they were phrased. A compliment.

I was a girl who developed early and quickly. Over my elementary and middle school years, boys would hug me at their will and tease me the next. “That’s how they show they like you.”

Still, no one was asking if they could touch my body and no permission granted. Bras were popped, the teasing escalated. Throughout all three years of junior high, one boy, not Tommy, taunted me during every assembly and homeroom. I…