As I walked from the parking lot to my office last week, a utility van passed by, and the driver’s gaze lingered a bit too long. He then pulled into the parking lot, and my heart raced. Instinctively, I positioned my car keys between my fingers, a habit I developed long ago. I was 27 when this unsettling encounter occurred.
Years earlier, while waiting at a red light in a bustling college town, I noticed a young man wandering near the cars, peeking into windows. I knew his intentions immediately, and as he approached my vehicle, I quickly locked the doors. Just as I did, he yanked on the passenger handle and demanded to be let in. The light turned green, and without a moment’s hesitation, I sped away. I was 22.
Nearly a decade ago, I walked home from a night class, keys in hand and phone at the ready, always aware of the emergency blue lights on campus. One evening, a male classmate offered to walk me back to my dorm under the guise of needing to copy my notes. Once inside, his demeanor shifted. He never wanted my notes; he wanted me. After a series of unwanted advances, I managed to threaten him enough to make him leave. I was 20 then.
Earlier that same year, I was at my first fraternity party, the most conservatively dressed girl there. When my friend and I attempted to enter, the door guard insisted on some “action” before letting us in. We saw too many girls passed out on couches, and when we tried to leave, the brothers manning the exit chose to frisk every female. I was 19 and felt violated.
In high school, I found myself stranded at a basketball game after a boyfriend became jealous over a simple interaction with a friend from the opposing team. Luckily, a guy friend offered me a ride home, but that kindness turned into an unsettling proposition. I was 17.
As a preteen, the harassment began earlier than I can recall, with boys snapping my bra straps and shaming me for my choice of underwear. One day in class, a boy thought it was funny to pull my underwear up my backside. I was just twelve.
Now, at 27, I’m a wife and mother of two—a son and a daughter. The responsibility to prepare them for a world where “boys will be boys” and girls are often silenced weighs heavily on me.
You might be thinking, “Is this just a personal rant?” But these are only the PG-rated experiences I’m willing to share. I never disclosed these incidents to my parents, and it’s likely that your daughter has faced similar situations without feeling safe enough to tell you. One day, she might come home upset because a boy snapped her bra strap, and you’ll wish you had empowered her to respond assertively.
However, my concern extends beyond these smaller incidents. The reality is that your daughter could face a far more serious situation. My experience with the boy in my dorm may not be her only close call; she could become a statistic, facing an assault that changes her life forever.
Mothers, we also need to face an uncomfortable truth: our sons could become men who commit these acts of violence or harassment. We must teach them that consent matters and that no one’s body is up for grabs, despite the messages they may receive from society and media.
For more information on this crucial topic, check out our insightful post here. And if you’re considering options for family planning, Make a Mom offers reputable home insemination kits. Additionally, Women’s Health is an excellent resource for understanding pregnancy and home insemination.
To summarize, it’s time for us as parents to acknowledge the unsettling reality of sexual violence and harassment in our society. We must equip our children with the knowledge and strength to navigate this world safely. Our efforts today can lead to a safer tomorrow.
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