October 7, 2018

I sat shiva last night, starting when I got the news about the Supreme Court nomination.

I sit in my house, lights off, did not eat, sit.

I let all the stages of grief engulf me: denial, bargaining, anger, grief.... acceptance comes hard. That is, I do not accept that this is justice, that this is ok, that I have any respect left for the continuing privileged, rich and patriarchal government.

I accept that it has happened.

Today I am up and energy renewed. On my blog one woman wrote that she has been assaulted more then once on her way home from work. She said that it's partly her fault for being out late. No, I say, it's not. Men cannot assault women because they are going home from work after rush hour. Because of what they are wearing. Because they are drunk. Because they are female. I say that I am sorry that she was assaulted.

She says that I am the first person who has ever said that they were sorry she was assaulted.

Hear that, men? I think you are pathetic and I am apologizing to other women for your behavior.

I will continue to fight.

memory
I really don't know love at all

Lets talk about more womanly experiences of male discrimination.

I start grade school in upstate New York. I am at the Northeast School. I don't remember tons about it, except that it has ramps instead of stairs. I am failing to learn to read with phonics, which make no sense to me.

In first grade, I need to go to the bathroom. My teacher gives me a hall pass. This is not a kindergarten privilege.

Outside the girls' bathroom are two boys. They are older than me. I don't know them.

"You can't go in unless you show us your underwear."

I am wearing a dress. I stare at them.

"Show us your underwear."

I go back around the corner and wait. Hoping they will leave. They don't.

I need to go. I go and lift my skirt for a second, humiliation as they laugh. I hurry in to the bathroom.

I go back to the classroom.

I never go to the bathroom during class again. I am careful. I go before class starts and at lunch.

And I've never told anyone until now. And this was a grade school. How were the boys acculturated to behave this way already in grade school? And does this still go on? All the girls in my daughter's school quit wearing skirts by second grade. Jeans only.

Before fourth grade we move to another town.

The boundaries for the school districts change before sixth grade and I am bussed to a new grade school.

On the bus, a boy starts harassing me. I don't know him.

"Show me your underwear." he says. The other kids are watching.

I don't answer, glare at him with scorn.

Each day he escalates.

"Show me your underwear."

I pull a pair out of my bag the fourth day. "There. Now you've seen some."

The other kids laugh, but it's not enough. He keeps hassling me.

He starts reaching for my skirt from the seat in front of me.

I've had it. I play flute. But I also play piccolo.

The next day he starts up, "Show me your underwear." He reaches towards my skirt from the seat in front. I have my hard piccolo case in both hands. I smash his hand as hard as I can, against the bus seat.

He screams and pulls his hand away, clutching it.

The bus driver looks in the mirror. He doesn't slow down or stop.

The boy never bothers me again. And neither does anyone else on that bus.