Me too.
Life was full of bright colors when I was younger. It was almost as if I were blinded by them - not conscientious of my surroundings beyond the green in the trees, the fuchsia in the plants outside of my house, and the pink in my bicycle.
As I grew older, I started to see the darker colors of the world. The black in my room as I tried to go to sleep was my least favorite color. I guess watching too many CSI and Forensic Files as a child will do that to you.
Now, as an adult, the perfect world I had previously envisioned has disappeared. I step outside and I don’t notice the colors anymore. Instead, I worry. When I walk on the street alone, I worry. When I ride public transit, I worry. When I see a man staring at me, I worry. Even at work, I worry.
You see, life threw me a curveball when I first recognized what sexual harassment really was. Sure, I noticed when men would say inappropriate comments. Sure, I felt upset when men would grab me at clubs or bars. Sure, I felt disgusted when my date groped me in the middle of the street. But did I ever stand up for myself? No. I thought this was normal and that I had to stay passive because that’s just what women do.
It wasn’t until this year that I fully understood the magnitude of what sexual harassment can do to you. It wasn’t until I experienced it first-hand.
A few months ago, I was working for a manager who I had followed from a prior company. At the time, he had taken me out of a shitty situation and handed me a job. Little did I know his true intentions.
I was a contractor then and felt like I had to prove myself to convert to a full-time position. I worked late hours, had countless 1-1s, and tried to balance all of the projects that were thrown at me. I would do anything to prove that I was a hard worker and that I deserved to stay. He clearly saw that I was driven, and he took advantage of it.
Now that I look back on this experience, I think about how foolish I was. I mean, the signs were there. He asked me to drive him home at 8:30pm on a Tuesday because his car was in the shop. He pushed our 1:1s until the end of the day when few people were in the office. The list goes on.
My intuition was telling me that something was wrong and that this isn’t normal, but I ignored it because I put my career first. It wasn’t until we went to a restaurant bar nearby to talk about “goals” that I knew my instincts were correct.
It was 8pm on a Wednesday when we left the office and headed over to the bar for a glass of wine. He asked me if I wanted to leave my backpack in the car since we would be walking there, and I foolishly did. We got to the restaurant and I immediately felt uncomfortable. He swiveled his chair so that his body was opening toward me, and he was telling me personal stories about
his life. I instantaneously felt self-conscious about what people must think of me. They probably thought I was eating dinner with this mid-40-year-old man because I was a gold digger or who knows what else. I remember telling myself that it was just a dinner and that we were here to discuss business. This was for my career.
The night progressively got worse as he started to rub my upper back as he was telling me his stories. This wasn’t about work anymore. Halfway through our dinner and a glass of wine later, he began to rub my leg. Now, I was starting to panic, but I was still too passive and sat still, less engaged with his stories and more focused on his movements. Another 10 minutes later, he rubbed my leg again. This time, I was really frightened. I excused myself to the bathroom and it was then that I started shaking and planning my escape. Luckily, we went back to the office soon after, only to realize that I still had my backpack in his car. I was dreading going back to the parking garage with him, but I dealt with it because I couldn’t leave my personal items in his trunk after all of this. Once I got my backpack, he gave me a quick, loathsome hug, and then I was finally on my way home to my boyfriend where I felt safe.
The entire month until I left the company felt like darkness. I would wake up and see gray, I would go to sleep and see black. My friends and family saw the depression and anxiety I had every single day. The tears kept flowing because I couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened. The only glimpses of happiness I had were when I thought about what my life could be like at another workplace.
This experience has opened my eyes to the harassment and abuse that women endure throughout their lives. I Googled the stats and they should have surprised me, but they didn’t. 1 in 3 women are sexually harassed in the workplace, and only 29% of those women report it. These stats anger and sadden me, but I have hope that this world can change. I want to see my life in color again.
