[cw: child abuse, sexual violence]
When I was in kindergarten, a little boy called Doug followed me around and tried to kiss me. He would harass me almost all day, every day. He’d pull my hair, pull on my dresses, and try to kiss my face.
This went on for months and no one took me seriously when I asked for help (“he just likes you!) so I eventually stopped asking. One day in the spring, we were leaving the gymnasium and he cornered me between the door and the wall. He tried to kiss me and I full out slapped him in the face.
At the end of the day, my mother came to collect me from school and my teacher said that she needed to talk to me about what I’d done that day.
My mother told me to tell her what happened, but I was frightened and didn’t answer. She yelled at me and I still didn’t answer, so she punched me in the face and gave me a bloody nose.
At that point, I’d already experienced other instances of my body not being mine to control. I’d already lived times when I said someone hurt me and was told I was lying. This time, though, I learned that even attempting to defend myself would end in much worse injury.
The reason I’m sharing this isn’t to just say “oh, my mother hit me” or “oh no one listened,” it’s to make the broader connection between these events and the way we teach *especially girls* that we are not entitled to advocate for ourselves. I’d been asking for help for months, I hit him in what was *obviously* an act of self-defense, but I’m still the one who ended up being punched in the face at the end of the day.
Stand up for your fucking children.
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