No Room for the Comfort of Fearful Men

I was devastated yesterday. I kept thinking of my friend who was raped at 13 by her best friend's brother and how this world would treat her if she told. I kept thinking of my friend who was molested until she had her boyfriend move in to protect her. My friend who didn't come back to herself until her senior year of college because of "date" rape.

I kept thinking of all the beautiful powerful female souls who haven't told and what this world could do to them and how it could skip over their pain and the inconvenience of holding society to account.

But then I got a text from this woman friend who is arguably the most successful of all of my friends. I'm so proud to call her my friend. And she was devastated too and it made me understand first why this hurts so much; that it hurts all of us who are thinking, caring people. It is insulting and painful. And secondly it made me consider a path forward where we move boldly and with the courage of our convictions AND our experience.

On this path, there is no room for the comfort of fearful men.

Rather, we move ourselves toward truth, and that necessitates facing the ugliness of reality for women. No more may we stay silent for the comfort of those around us.

Some of us are silent with our stories of #Metoo because our stories are too small. We wouldn't want to be a bother with our petty experiences. But then we also don't tell when our stories are too violent. We cry into the hush of a rainy black night to those who love us most, to those we can trust with the truth.

But truth needs light and air. ALL truth. So here it is.

We must tell. We must ALL tell our stories and never, ever allow complacency or the myth of safety into the narrative until ALL are safe. Until every woman can walk, head high and proud into the night alone, none are.

Dr. Ford shared her story. And she's been mocked. But that has been by the lowly cowards who do not deserve the least of our fears. They do not hold power over her. The fear did not silence her, not for long. She did not lose. She brought her story to light. And she received the mockery of the weak and the small. But she also received the support of those of us great enough, powerful enough to lend her ours.

My story is not so big. I was 16. My friends ran inside and he trapped me in a car. I wasn't drinking. Another night I might have been. I don't remember what day it was or even what time of year. It wasn't my first sexual encounter. He trapped me and held me down and his hands were everywhere, everywhere so fast. I screamed and said no and no and more no. He did not rape me and at the time, I believed it was because he'd made eye contact and that I had taught him something. That he realized his error.

Now I don't think that was true. I think I was a scared 16 year old that didn't trust that anyone would find him. I didn't trust anyone would hold him accountable. I knew I'd be destroyed and I didn't want to. I didn't want them not to be able to find him. I didn't want anyone dissecting with whom I flirted. And my story had been too small. I never had trouble with sex afterwards. I was fine. I am fine.

But in the end, I will not lie to anyone to protect them from the truth. These things happen to most of us. I was not safe then and I am not safe now. There are times when it could happen and it could be violent and I'd be scared to tell because the enormity would make you uncomfortable. Or it would be too small to bother you.

If you've had that thought, that is the message those comfortable in our system want you to believe. That you are safe if you just "shhhh" into that dark night. Whisper the truth or live on without telling.

I won't tell you when or how I think you should tell. But I think you should. I think you should make people uncomfortable. I think their comfort is less important than your truth. And I think growth happens in discomfort. And this country, this society, needs growth. We need to break free of lies and speak truth and grow.