A friend I follow on Tumblr posted this video.
-15 in a Home Depot parking lot. I was walking into the store and a car stopped in front of me. The passenger leaned over and made a V with his fingers and stuck it to his mouth. The driver stared me up and down. I was too scared to scream because they were so close.
-16-walking my dog in jeans and a sweatshirt. "Hey baby, how are you? What, you got nothing to say? Bitch"
-22-standing at the busstop after work. Car pulls up and the driver asks for a blowjob.
The number of these encounters for me add up to the thousands. Leery stares, tongues hanging out, pelvic thrusting in my direction. All of it. Ever since I turned 12. My body was their property, their own spank bank.
I felt shame. I still feel it upon occasion. I would dress in baggy clothes, to hide my features. Didn't matter what I wore. It never matters what we are wearing.
They try and take our bodies from us. They try to silence us.
I would get home and scream, but no sound would come out. My mouth would be open and howling, tears pouring down my face. Furious is an understatement. I have to fight every day to take my body back, for me.
I would complain, in class, when I was 16. The boys would laugh. The girls would say, "It means you're still sexy." I get that a lot. "You'll miss it when it's gone."
I've tried ignoring it; I get called a bitch, frigid, a whore. If I say fuck off, they threaten me.
So I'm dealing with it. We all deal with it. Together.