#MeToo

#MeToo

     I just finished a non-fiction book (my reading choices are all over the place!) entitled “She Said” by Jodi Kantor and Megan Twohey. The two authors are reporters for the Washington Post and won a Pulitzer Prize for breaking open the Harvey Weinstein case. If you will remember, he is the former Hollywood movie producer who was charged with using his power to sexually assault women over several decades. The authors of “She Said” interviewed his accusers, women who were afraid to come forward for fear of repercussions from Weinstein.

The agonizing that these women went through has prompted me to share my stories, in the hope that they will help someone else. Consider it facing my demons and sharing my trauma.  If this post can help someone else, then coming forward will have been worth it!

Story #1: College. For two years I lived on the same dorm floor, but different rooms, on the 13th floor of Abel Hall floor, at the University of Nebraska. I made some awesome friendships there! There were people coming and going all the time! Most of us left our doors open while we were studying so we didn't miss out on anything. It was the early '80's. One evening, I was sitting at my desk, studying when well known football player walked into my room. (He was higher than a kite!). Everyone knew him. He frequented our floor a lot. I said “Hi!” to him. He asked me why I wouldn't go out with him. I told him he'd never asked. He said, "It's because I'm black."At that point he shut my door and locked it. He threw me down on my roommate's bed. I told him that he needed to leave. That if I screamed, he would lose his football career. 

I firmly believe in guardian angels and as luck would have it, my next door neighbor was experimenting with some kind of drug and had passed out. Her roommate had called 9-1-1. So at about the time that I was thrown onto the bed, police and EMT's were on our floor. I said, again, “If I scream, you're done here! There are police right outside the door.” Praise the Lord, he left. If my neighbor hadn't OD'ed, the outcome could have been much, much different.

     The more I thought about it and talked to my close friends about it, I decided it needed to be reported. I reported him. About a week later, the Dean of Student Affairs (ironic name!) called me. She told me to lock my door and come back to the phone. My attacker had just left her office and there were sanctions placed on him. He was angry and headed my way. As I talked to her, I watched his car pull up in front of the dorm. He was met there by campus police and taken into custody by Lincoln Police. His scholarship was revoked. After leaving the university, he ended up a drug addict and went to prison.

Story #2: During my first marriage (Yes, I was married before) my then-husband punched me in the shoulder while I was holding my infant daughter. I went to a friend's apartment. She took pictures. The bruising went into my right breast, he hit me so hard. As soon as I could make arrangements, I flew back to Nebraska (We were living in California at the time). Because he made some lame-ass promises that I believed, after about three weeks, I went back (I know. Stupid!). About a year later, on one of the rare nights he was not fucking his way across Orange County, CA, (pardon the language) he wanted to have sex. I told him “No.” I didn't want any of his diseases. He threw me down on the bed and raped me, as our three year-old cried. Again, I left. I went to the Seattle area to visit my brother and sister-in-law. When I got home, there were sparkly panty hose in our daughter's bed. They were not her size. I told him it was one thing to endanger the health and safety of me, who should have common sense and be able to take care of myself. It's a whole new level when you endanger the health of your child. His words were: “You want me out? File.” So that's what I did.  He was served on our fifth wedding anniversary.  I moved all his stuff to the garage and changed the locks on the house. He could only get into the garage to get his stuff. After he moved his stuff, I sold the house and moved back to Nebraska. Long story short, without the gory details, he gave up his parental rights. My current husband adopted our daughter. We never have to see him again.

     Bottom line: Say something. You may give someone else the courage to leave an abusive situation and/or to come forward with their accusations. If you are or know someone else who is, in an abusive situation, get help and get out.