Assault, flashing, groping, Nonverbal Harassment

Memories Of Being Grabbed And Molested As A Child

When I was 14 or so, I was walking along a path along some railroad tracks about five miles from home. We lived out in the country. It was a secluded area. A guy who was probably in his mid-20s was riding his bike along the path. He asked me if I wanted a ride back to the road. I was tired and said sure. When he “helped” me onto the bike he grabbed me in the crotch to lift me onto the bike and then held onto me. I was just confused and stunned. Now looking back on it I feel fortunate he didn’t have the nerve to be more aggressive.

I also remember a male babysitter when I was about eight years old exposing himself to me and my brother. I only remember making the comment that he was really big. My older sister says he molested us too. I have no memory of that.

Published on October 17, 2016 at 1:31 pm

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Assault, groping, Nonverbal Harassment

Owner Of Restaurant I Worked At Groped Me When I Was 13

I was 13 years old, a dishwasher at a restaurant, and it was my first job. I loved my job, I had been going to the restaurant every Tuesday since I could remember with my mom. We knew the owner and his family, we knew the chefs, waitresses, and cooks. Then one night, the owner became way too drunk. He kissed one waitress and grabbed another by the butt. Then he came to me. First, he uncomfortably made me hug him in the hallway, and then later came and groped me from behind, all parts a 13-year-old should never have felt. I never did anything, I didn’t tell my mom until I was 19 when we went to a new restaurant in a different city, and we had to leave because that old owner was now a chef there.

Published on October 17, 2016 at 1:26 pm

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Assault, Nonverbal Harassment

Assaulted In Nursery School And Teachers Did Nothing: “Boys Will Be Boys”

I was three, and desperate to go to school. I LOVED school, so my mom put me in nursery school. Every day, at recess, a boy from the other classroom came out the door onto the playground, walked over to me and punched me, hard, in the stomach. Every day, I cried. Every day, the teachers thought it was cute. Boys will be boys. He likes her. He’s just trying to get her attention.

In order to get this to stop, my mom had to withdraw me from the school. I cried about that, too. Because I was being punished because he was hitting me. It wasn’t the last time I was harassed or assaulted. It was merely the first.

Published on October 17, 2016 at 1:24 pm

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demonstration, transphobic

Raped And Worked In The Sex Trade: “These Men Remind Me So Much of Donald Trump”

I was raped at gunpoint when I was 15 years old. A man broke into a friend’s house with a gun and basically held me hostage for an hour or so while he repeatedly raped me. He was also going to kill me but I managed to talk him out of it. I was living in foster homes at the time and was so affected by the incident but I never reported it to the police, this was back in 1979. I later went on to work in the sex trade to support myself and my sister when I was a teenager with such low self-esteem after the rape. I watched man after man buy my body, all of them could have been my Father or Grandfather. These men remind me so much of Donald Trump, and men like him who have little or no respect for women. By the age of 20 I finally got out of the sex trade but not without having done great damage to my body and soul. I also found myself with a huge drug and alcohol problem brought on my the rape and subsequent prostitution work.

Published on October 17, 2016 at 1:22 pm

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Assault, flashing, groping, rape, Stalking

Attempted Rape In My Own Home

I moved from Maryland to Niagara Falls when I retired in 2012. The house is wonderfully secure, and I look forward to being here the rest of my life.

One of the 10 windows in my house was open a bit to air out the guest room, and I had not engaged the little prongs on the upper sash to prevent it from being opened from the outside.

I have a propensity for staying up too late, sitting at my laptop in the kitchen. One night, I got to bed after midnight and, as usual, finished reading the daily paper. I noted the time at exactly 1:30 a.m. when I turned out the light to sleep.

Within a minute, I heard rustling. I assumed it was out on the front porch, then realized it was coming from the guest room next to mine. I saw a short man in full silhouette against the yellow window curtain across the room. I shouted.

He came around to my side of the antique double bed and leapt full-sprawl on top of me. That made me angry. I shouted for him to get off me. He rolled off to the other side of the bed beginning immediately to get between my legs.

What little reading I had done in the 1970’s about the realities of rape came back to me clearly. Locked my ankles across one another. He could not penetrate the block either with his groin or his hands. He started to touch a breast. I realized I’d better lock my arms across my chest, because having anyone touch my breasts is too emotionally intimate. He stopped trying to touch me there.

He then took my hand and directed me to masterbate him. I acquiesced in the masterbation for a bit and his penis became erect. I withdrew and resumed the lock across my chest. He spent TWO AND A HALF HOURS mostly trying to use my body to reach ejaculation.

The man had obviously showered before coming to my house. He smelled fresh and he was perfectly clean. No sign of tobacco, alcohol, or marijuana. He wore a navy T-shirt, no underwear, and those long ugly nylon-ish basketball shorts with elastic waist. He’d clearly planned the whole thing.

He said very little, always directly in my ear, “Where your purse? Where your purse?” Very deep, very soft. Although at one point I had a long opportunity to study the profile of his face against the street light coming through the yellow curtain, I recognized neither his face nor his voice.

But I’d recognize that torso again: He had two long scars, one very straight and “clean” directly from the naval toward his genitals, the other parallel but off to one side a bit and with a rough scar. His arms were distinctly muscular and well-defined. He was a little taller than I. I still did not recognize him.

When he left, I called 9-1-1, and report an attempted rape. He was arrested on Tuesday morning outside the house of my lawn man, where he was reporting for work. He never made bail. He pled guilty. I hope I never see him again. But if we cross paths, I’m going to be so damned angry, I may not contain myself.

Published on October 17, 2016 at 1:18 pm

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