I still remember his name. What the classroom looked like. Where he stood. Where I was standing. I still remember the feelings of shame, sadness, and helplessness that washed over me.
My teacher found me at my desk, curled into a little ball, my head buried in my arms, crying. She asked why I wasn't going out for recess. She asked if I was sick. She asked me to stay back and talk to her, while everyone else filed out.
I remember feeling overwhelmed, not knowing the words to describe what he had done to me. Not even understanding why it had felt so wrong to be groped in that way. I barely had any breasts, so why did I feel so violated? (The things we tell ourselves...)
She asked me if it hurt. I said no. She asked me if I was sad because something had happened that didn't feel right, that I had been told was wrong. I remember how the words sort of got caught in my throat and wouldn't come out. I remember feeling feverish and scared. When she asked me who had done this, I remember feeling anxious to say his name.
Even worse, he was brought back inside and I had to stand beside him while she spoke to him. I remember wanting to hide, I remember not feeling safe, and I remember not being able to make eye contact with the person I had thought was my friend before all this happened.
Every woman I know has some experience with sexual harassment, sexual assault, or rape. Many of us have many - too many to count when we include the number of times it occurred while walking down the street, riding a bus, working, dating, receiving medical care, and every other example I cannot even process.
From the moment we are born, until the time we die, women's experience on this planet is tinged with violence. Our boundaries are not respected, our voice not heard, our experiences minimized and justified, and the end to all of it always out of reach.
Still, we carry on, don't we? We read books, we write books, we study hard. We earn degrees, we teach others, we travel the world. We try to speak up, we try again. We try one more time. And then, another.
We give birth, we raise children, we mentor, we march. We observe, quietly, hoping that one day, we will be safe.