They say that sexual harassment isn’t a compliment. Hell, I scream it when it actually happens. And I will scream it until the day I die because of the society I live in.
If I were to admit to sexual harassment or assault to certain groups of people, they would respond by saying that at least someone noticed me, at least someone wanted to touch me. Because I have a body type that doesn’t conform to the pop-culture standards of beauty; or really any beauty standards.
I can fix my hair and makeup all kinds of ways and dress so that I feel beautiful or sexy or desirable. But the fact remains that I’m fat. And in the world I live in, I may as well be a leper with a third eye because in this world, that’s about as desirable as I’ll ever be.
Now, let’s get one thing straight. Just because I don’t fit the world I live in, doesn’t mean I have any intensions of changing anything. I can look in the mirror and be okay with what I see which is something not many other women can say.
The fact of the matter is, I love me and that’s what counts. Or, I love the physical me. The mental me is a whole other basket of issues.
The thing about it is, they say it[sexual harassment/assault] isn’t a compliment, but in the deepest darkest corners of my mind, all I can think is that at least someone noticed me. At least someone wanted me to some extent or on some level.
Because my idol state of being operates under the impression that literally no one will ever want me as long as I look the way I do. It’s what my mom used to tell me, it’s what my grandmother used to tell me, it’s what my peers told me, and then it’s what life has hinted at.
There have been a few guys to try and be with me, but my brain works a little differently on that front, so more often than not, I just haven’t been that into it. Their general response is usually something along the lines of “you should be thankful I even tried with you because honestly you’re pretty disgusting.”
I wish that was more of an exaggeration but quite frankly that’s a little tame compared to some of the things I’ve been told. And as cliché as it is, the fact remains, the more you hear something, the easier it becomes to believe.
Honestly, I think that’s why I’m so quick to say sexual harassment isn’t a compliment. Because if I say it enough, if I make myself hear it enough, maybe it will replace the old thoughts. But what happens when a young lady comes to me with a situation where they’re being sexually harassed?
Because apparently I’ve given off some impression that I have my life together and therefore have some great insight on such issues. First of all, allow me to let you in on a little (not-so)secret. This could not be farther from the truth. I have no idea what I’m doing.
But what I generally end up doing is something along the lines of telling her all the things that she needs to hear. Except if she’s anything like me, she’s heard all of those things before and she doesn’t truly believe them anymore than I do. So what then?
How do you fix scars so deep, they’ve become a part of your identity? The real answer here is that you don’t cause such pain in the first place, but this isn’t a perfect world and it never will be.
The fact is, they’re scars, so there’s nothing you can do. Supposedly they would heal if the wounds eventually stopped being reopened, but I’m certainly not holding my breath on that ever happening.
I guess what I’m really saying in all of this is that I’m broken along with a whole community of beautiful people that don’t fit your standards and there isn’t much I or anyone else can do about that. But for the love of all that is good and beautiful in this world, can we try and fix this society-wide character flaw for the next generation? Please?
No one deserves these demons. It’s not that difficult guys, just be kind to one another. And when in doubt, shut the hell up.