I have been slut-shamed, body-shamed and sexually coerced
Accosted in broad daylight and on my morning commute. In bars and festivals, too many to recall. I’ve heard rumours about myself that weren’t true at all. I’ve had sexual experiences shared without my consent. I’ve said no. Not once but twice. I’ve been poked and prodded, silenced and squashed. Smaller and smaller until I fit into a tiny, little box. Neatly labelled then relabelled. Over and over. Compartmentalised. By others and by myself. We build cages to keep the world out, to keep ourselves in. To minimise ourselves so we make sense, but sense to who and at what cost?
The small ingrained injustices, the suffocating avalanches, the worst part is none of it is uncommon. None of it is unique to me and that’s the problem that keeps on repeating. Baptism by fire at a silent retreat. We have sex without speaking because we don’t know what to say. We feel dread catch in our throat wondering if something was wrong because it felt wrong, or if we simply don’t understand it yet. We become paralysed and leave our bodies when the worst happens but the body keeps a score and mine is as exhausted as it is angry, as it is hopeful.
I’m not here to lead a witch hunt. I have served my years of being a terror. Fighting fire with fire burns everyone whilst getting you nowhere. If we are going to make sincere progress and value sexuality from all perspectives, we need to open up the conversation, listen to one another and put in the work. Be that with family, friends, through education and in our workplaces. We live in a post #MeToo world, where men continue to be shocked at the widespread frequency in which women and men have been assaulted. Much unlike those who have been. In the wake of Sarah Everard’s murder, an investigation from UN Women UK found that 97% of women aged 18-24 have been sexually harassed, with a further 96% not reporting such cases because of the belief nothing would change. In the two instances where I was more seriously assaulted, I didn’t report either. Firstly because the assault I experienced did not match what I was taught and I didn’t believe anything would change.
The first time, I was fifteen and I felt responsible. I let this person into my house and into my room, into my bed and when I said no, nothing stopped. Instead, I blocked him on every social media platform I have, to which he still is to this day and distanced myself from that circle of friends. In the second instance, I was older and in a relationship. I didn’t want to have sex and it is only in learning what sexual coercion is through i am EMPWR, did I realise this person repeatedly coerced me into sex throughout our time together. Sexual coercion is playing the blue balls card, it’s saying if you loved me you would, if you were my friend you would. It’s assault and I don’t think enough people, especially men know the scope of what it is. I don’t think enough people realise rape can be a quiet kind of violence. But how do you tell someone in a position of privilege things aren’t what they seem? That doing nothing is part of the problem. That minimising aggressive behaviour as their nature is detrimental. In my experience, plainly and simply.
A few years ago, I walked into my living room in London. A living room I shared with my flatmates, who were all boys at that time, and not to mention my friends. I had just moved into my boyfriend’s flat so I was outnumbered and no less outspoken than I usually am. A name came up whilst watching TV. A person adjacent to our social circle. A person who some of my flatmates considered a friend. A person who everyone knows is a bully. Without changing my tone too much, I added pity he’s a rapist. A couple of my friends, like aggravated, anxious dogs at a pound, harmonised an unsurprising, whoa, whoa, whoa that’s a big thing to say, you can’t just say that. I simply and plainly replied, it’s a bigger thing to do, you can’t just do that. It was the beginning of an uncomfortable conversation but how are we going to know the too often blurred lines of right and wrong, if we don’t mark them ourselves?
We need to create the world we want to live in. I believe what we say and what we do has as much power to heal us as it has to destroy us. If knowledge is power, we need to share it. We need to look at sexuality that gloriously extends beyond that of a heterosexual (white) male perspective. We need to support sexually eloquent women. Respect women when they aren’t interested in your advances instead of calling them a bitch and growing aggressive towards them. Stop sexualising women only to dehumanise them in the same breath. The glaring fact of the matter is, not one person on this earth would be here without women.
Sex is joyful and a relief. It’s messy and thankfully, looks nothing like anything on PornHub. Consent is the gateway to sex that lands right. No one is a greater authority on your body than yourself. Our pleasure is equal. Women masturbate, women watch porn, read porn, listen to porn. We aren’t simply a place for you to play out whatever insecurities you have. People that bring you down, have to be below you to do so. So next time someone calls you a slut, bitch or psycho, let them enjoy it down there. They have enough company. And men, if you are unsure, if you don’t know where to start but you want to. Let this be it. Put in the work. Read voices that don’t sound like yours. Watch shows and films from another perspective. Speak to the women in your life who are willing to. Be patient and don’t become defensive when we open up. We will get angry but that’s because we are fucking tired of men invading our space like it was there’s to begin with. Check your friends’ behaviour, your co-workers, your family. We all know you have those group chats. Think of your mothers, sisters and daughters. Odds are, the women you’re dehumanising are one or more of those things to someone. It shouldn’t take a tragedy to remember that.
I hope to have children one day. With the younger, more vocal generation standing up to the riddled injustices masquerading as the status quo, it makes me hopeful that my phantom children could come into a world fairer than ours. A world where girls don’t expect to face sexual harassment not once but multiple times, over the course of their life. A world where boys don’t sexually harass girls simply because they can. A world where there is space for everyone to be sexually eloquent, where we celebrate consent and one another. As I said, this isn’t a witch hunt. I know not everyone is perfect but it is only with everyone that we can mend ourselves.
It’s only in coming together whether we’re exhausted, angry, hopeful or all three that we’ll make through to the other side.
Some great resources to watch, read and study around sexual harassment, sexuality for non-binary people and rape prevention
Watch
Daniel Sloss on Male Accountability
Michaela Coel’s ‘I May Destroy You’ - to which I may add I didn’t know removing a condom without notifying the person you are having sex with is rape until watching this
Emerald Fennel’s ‘Promising Young Woman’
Sex Education - you only need to read this to find out a study in 2020 found 90% of young women who are sexually harassed on the London Underground, don’t report it
Amy Poehler’s Moxie, which astutely shows how regular harassment is that people feel all too comfortable ignoring it and also throwbacks to CSS Alala, a true classic
Read
‘The Careless Language of Sexual Violence’ from Roxanne Gay
How Middle Eastern women and non-binary people are redefining their sexuality by Salma Haidrani
FKA Twigs on Her Abusive Relationship with Shia LaBeouf
Andrew Steel and the mystery of the vanishing consent campaign from Madeleine Chapman
If you need help please reach out to (NZ only)
Words – Sonya Prior
Photo-Illustration — James Gallagher
