On 23rd May 2014, 22-year-old Elliot Rodger opened fire in Isla Vista
near the University of California, killing six and injuring seven. In a
video he released prior to the shooting, he blamed his rage on women
who rejected him, which caused him to live a life of “loneliness,
rejection, and unfulfilled desires.” The Internet responded with
#YesAllWomen to prove how every woman, starting from the age of 5 has to
deal with gender-based violence. The immediate response stated that the
UCSB shooting was an isolated incident, and #NotAllMen were the same.
While we may agree with that sentiment, that doesn't nullify the fact
that EVERY woman will deal with gender-based violence all her life.
Writer Kate Harding started curating stories about women who have
faced this kind of violence in their life on her Facebook page,
following which author and blogger Deanna Zandt joined forces with
Lainna Fader, Kate Tull, Kathryn Peters and Shauna Gordon-McKeon started
the Tumblr page When Women Refuse to document such stories as well as welcome women to share their own stories. Zandt told The Huffington Post,
“One of the things we're hoping people take away from this, however
they're coming to the conversation, is to understand that these are not
isolated incidents. These things happen way more than our cultural
consciousness [will recognize].”
We've compiled some of the most horrific stories that show women
beginning to see the strains of misogyny and male privilege even before
they understand what violence is.
It
was early evening and a group of six of us (all female) were walking to
a bar for a drink after work. A big black 4x4 drove past and slowed
down alongside us. The windows were then rolled down and the 3 men
inside started hitting on us, and asking us to go for drinks with them.
We
said no, thank you. They aggressively hurled abuse at us, calling us
sluts, and telling us we were all ‘ugly’ anyway. They sped up to drive
on, at which point my friend disgustedly stuck her middle finger up at
them as they drove off.
They saw this, reversed, wound down their
windows and threw fruit juice all over us. As ridiculous as it sounds,
as a group of 25-30 year old women, we were terrified at being both
verbally and physically threatened by 3 anonymous men, for no other
reason than we weren’t interested in going for drinks with them.
They sped off laughing, and we all stood there in fearful silence and abject disbelief at what had just happened.
I was stalked by a 23-year-old in primary (elementary) just because I
had bigger breasts than all the others. When my parents called the
police, they did nothing to stop him. He stalked me for seven years,
when he began sexually harassing me by touching my breasts and bottom.
Everyday, he would walk me home. I refused him repeatedly, and one time
he got violent. He took a pocket knife out and tried to stab me, but
luckily a nearby stranger rescued me. He stalked me for three more years
until finally the cops took action and arrested him for child sexual
abuse, abuse, and - get this - 14 charges of rape in cases not my own.
I was 18 and working as a waitress at a chain restaurant. He was twenty+ years my senior and working in the kitchen.
He
took an interest in me, and by that, I mean that when I talked to him,
he would ask me questions and write down my answers. I lied every time,
except about my age, hoping that he’d back off. He would touch me as I
walked by and tried to kiss me hello on a few occasions, which I dodged.
When he explicitly asked me to “hang out” I refused. He told me he’d
wait for me in the parking lot after work. I left early that day. The
next night, he locked me in a walk-in freezer until I would talk to him.
I quit my job the next day.
*I must state, that this didn’t happen to me, it happened to a close friend. And yet, she isn’t the only case in my country.
Her
boyfriend moved in with her because his home was getting painted. This
means that he moved in temporarily. And after a week of living together,
in their house, she heard a ring. She lives in an underground
apartment, so to enter the building, she must go downstairs. So when she
answered the ring, they told her that it was her ex-boyfriend. And like
she has a great friendship with him, she went upstairs to meet him. But
little did she knew, that this person was NOT her ex.
Many years
ago, a strange fellow started telling her that she was “really pretty”
and to please “go out with him”. She wasn’t interested, so she said no
to him various times. Later, she realized that this guy was stalking
her, so she threatened him by saying that she was going to “call the
police” and thought the issue was over.
Well, when this guy found out
that they started living together, he thought “if she isn’t for me,
then she’s for nobody else.” And when my poor friend started walking up
the stairs, the guy THREW A BUCKET OF ACID ON HER.
She luckily survived, but it is horrifying that saying “no” can lead you to such a horrible event. It is so unfair!
I was in second and third grade, he was in third and fourth (the bulk
of it lasted for two years, until I moved). He followed me around
constantly and would often say or do inappropriate things, but I was too
nice to tell him I didn’t want his friendship (or any kind of
relationship with him). I finally worked up the courage to reject him
after I found out he was going to “propose” to me (he had a wedding ring
and everything). After I told him I wasn’t interested, he bullied me
mercilessly. He lived near me so it occurred in school, on the bus, and
when I was playing outside. He would hit me, throw things at me, and
follow me everywhere (one of his favorite things was running up behind
me and yanking HARD on my hair until he ripped some out). I don’t
remember why I didn’t tell people about this, but I think it was a mix
of being too scared and thinking that behavior was normal/expected from
boys. One incident I remember particularly well occurred while I was
riding my bike around the block. He got on his own bike and started
tailing me and yelling at me and hitting me with a stick. I pedaled as
fast I could and cried and screamed but couldn’t evade him. I was so
scared and distracted that I ended up crashing into a tree. I don’t
remember the extent of my injuries, but I remember the fear. I also
remember the apathetic faces of his brother and friend, who saw the
entire incident and didn’t do a thing. I mean, what did I expect? I
shouldn’t have led him on for so long.
I was 16, and had turned down J.T.’s advances over the previous 2
months. He became more aggressive with each rejection to the point that I
avoided the football field during practice (he was on the team) as well
as the hallways that he frequented because he verbally harassed me and
threatened me with physical violence (including references to violating
me) when he saw me.
I was completely alone in the girl’s locker room
at a corner locker changing for swim practice and while I was standing
there nude J.T. walked in. I was sure that this was the moment that he’d
make good on his threats. All I had to protect me was my voice, so I
started shouting “Get out of here! Leave me alone!”. A classmate came in
and I told her that J.T. had been bothering me for months, told her to
get the teacher, and I kept yelling at him to leave. I couldn’t leave
because J.T. was between me and the door and all I had shielding me was
my towel.
J.T. continued to walk toward me with a fight-ready posture
repeating his threats of violating me while also saying “What’s Mrs. X
going to do? She can’t do anything to stop me” (Our gym teacher was an
extremely diminutive woman). He nearly snatched away my towel when the
teacher finally arrived. He refused to leave at first, but then the
teacher raised her voice and he finally left.
This is the first time
I’ve ever talked about this. At the time, J.T.’s behavior and
confrontation was considered the result of a miscommunication between a
boy and a girl rather than the sexual harassment that it is-if it was
ever discussed. Today, 28 years later, I have seen J.T. on facebook
along with many other classmates, but I have blocked him because I STILL
feel nauseated, intimidated, frightened, angry, and violated when I see
him.
Time does NOT heal all wounds.
I was traveling in Europe and drinking at a bar with a group of
people I had just met. One guy invited me over to his place for the
night, and I said no. He said it wasn’t very Canadian of me, as
Canadians are known to be polite and say yes. He tried to kiss me and I
told him to back off. He called me a slut and said that I clearly hadn’t
had enough to drink.
I got engaged too young, and too quickly. I wound up breaking up with
him when I realized that he was an obsessive, co-dependent alcoholic.
(He once claimed that he “allowed” me to have male friends. The
beginning of the end.)
When I told him it was over, he locked me in
the bathroom (not literally, but he blocked the door and physically
prevented me from leaving) until I started screaming. Then I grabbed my
bag and left as quickly as I could. I walked for miles while he followed
me, barefoot. He went back and forth between crying and telling me he
loved me, calling me a bitch and a slut, and saying everything was fine
and we should go to the beach.
I ran into him at a party months
later, and he cornered me on the basement stairs and tried to convince
me to go home with him. Again, he physically prevented me from leaving
until I started screaming.
For years, he would call and text me at
all hours, frequently late at night when he was drunk. Sometimes, six
years later, he still does.
It started off innocently. A boy sending her a directed picture on
Instagram. Talking to her sweetly, asking her general stuff. Finally he
got around to telling her that he liked her and asking her out. She very
politely explained that she had no interest in dating yet. He replied
he expected her to be disgusted. She very strongly told him that no, she
thought he was very nice and thanked him for his interest, but told him
she personally had no interest in dating at this time, it wasn’t him.
Then he threatened suicide, telling her about the gun he had access to
and suggesting that if he didn’t end his life he was going to harm
others. Finally suggesting all of this could be averted if only someone
would love him. We had to contact the police and the school. This is her
first, but I’m sure not her last experience with what happens when you
say no.
When I was a senior in high school, I refused to get sexual with my
current boyfriend and he had understood. During a period where we were
broken up, I experimented sexually with a male friend I had known for
years and felt more comfortable with. After I got back together with my
boyfriend and he found out, he threatened to murder my male friend and
force himself on me during a school trip because he felt more “entitled”
to me. It took me a month to finally tell someone because he had
actually brought a weapon on that trip and easily could have done what
he threatened to do. After he was arrested, I later found out that he
had tried to rape a fourteen year old girl during our break from each
other.
We had broken up, I had gotten out of a three year emotionally
abusive, controlling relationship after finally seeing it for what it
was. It was hard, but a few months later I had finally moved on and
hooked up with a nice guy. I was still on good terms with my ex, but
when he found out I had kissed someone else, he went insane. He
threatened to kill himself, me, and the guy.He called and texted me with
an app that made it so that I couldn’t use my phone. He came to my dorm
room “to return the stuff I’d given him” and stayed there for six hours
against my will, trying to kill himself and saying I’d have to call the
police to remove him. He finally left in a rage after threatening to
rape me once I let it slip that I had slept with someone else. The next
day, he decided he wanted his stuff back at 1am, and if I didn’t bring
it to him right then, he would drain my bank account, hack my email and
Facebook and post bad pictures of me everywhere, and drive to my school
and smash my car windows. I decided to bring his stuff to him the next
evening. The girl he had cheated on me with throughout our relationship
sent me a screenshot of him telling her he was planning on killing me.
He told me to come alone, so I brought my parents. He said nothing as we
gave him his stuff, but called my parents as soon as we left, saying we
would have to kill him before he left me alone. We called the police
who threatened him, and he finally stopped contacting me. A few days
later, I started dating the guy I had been hooking up with, who had
stood by me through everything. My ex has tried to start conversations
with me but I will not speak to him. I have recurring nightmares about
him trying to kill me, and I’ve considered going to therapy for them. I
still don’t understand how someone I once loved could have turned into
my worst nightmare.
I had broken up with my boyfriend of 3 years and, having no place
else to go, moved back in with my parents. He began following me,
showing up places where he knew I would be, and constantly calling me on
the phone. He threatened to kill me, kill my parents, kidnap our son,
and burn my parents’ house down with all of us inside. Unfortunately, at
the time there were really no laws against stalking and because he
hadn’t actually assaulted me, the police said there was nothing they
could do. Finally one day he made the mistake of leaving a threatening
message on our answering machine, and we could have him charged with
making terroristic threats. I still don’t think he would’ve stopped
though if he hadn’t been suspected of a robbery and fled the state.
Earlier today I was scrolling through my Facebook feed when I saw an
alarming post from a former co-worker. She posted pictures of her busted
forehead and a deep cut near her wrist. After reading the comments, I
learned that her soon-to-be-ex husband had beat her, cut her, all while
repeatedly calling her a “whore.” Last week my friend quit work on short
notice and moved to another town, and I was confused because she seemed
to love her job.
While looking at the photos, I began to cry because
it brought back memories of an abusive relationship my mom had with a
boyfriend when I was in first grade. My mom had come to pick me up with a
giant bruise that took up half her face. It was in the shape of a boot
sole because her abusive boyfriend had stomped on her face. I remember
the deep purple “stars” of the boot sole located a few inches from her
eye. It was horrifying.
I messaged my friend to tell her how brave
she was, and how lucky she was to get out of there alive. I thanked her
for her post because it spread awareness. She told me she had to leave
because her son deserves better. And she does, too.
I told him I wanted to break up with him. It turned into yet another
screaming match. He wrestled me to the ground behind our bedroom door so
nobody could get into the room to help me. I eventually screamed loud
enough to wake up our roommate who called 911. Our other roommate came
home in the meantime and managed to talk him down, I locked myself in
the bathroom until the police arrived — utterly humiliated because these
things aren’t supposed to happen to smart girls like me.
It took me
years to realize that it wasn’t my fault, that I had not “provoked him”
and that being a “smart girl” doesn’t mean a thing when someone thinks
they have ownership of you.
5 years ago, I went through a withdrawal process during my first
college semester because a man who I had just met committed “attempted
rape” against me, and I was a nervous wreck walking around campus. One
evening while still living in my dorm, a good friend called and said she
was with a guy who “seemed like my type.”
There was a large group of
us hanging out in the guy’s dorm room, and before I understood what was
happening, I was alone with him, my friend walking out the door,
mouthing assurances that we’d have a great conversation. They were going
out drinking, while the “great guy” and I would be “getting to know
each other,” both completely sober.
Our conversation quickly got
uncomfortable. He groped my chest and I told him I wasn’t up for
anything more than talking. He told me he understood, but I just needed
someone to show me a “good sexual experience.” He proceeded to hold my
shoulders tightly and “instruct” me on how to perform oral sex.
I was
scared and had no idea what to do. He eventually let go, and I began to
back away. Before I could move much, he pushed me backwards and pulled
my jeans and underwear off and proceeded to try and force himself into
me. I struggled and tried clamping my legs shut, telling him “no.” He
continued talking in a low voice, telling me, “Oh, but you’ll like this.
You just have to let me in.” Eventually, I shut down, and he was able
to rape me while I just lay there, tears on my face.
When it was
over, he went into the bathroom to clean himself up. I lay there for a
while trying to get back to reality. I got dressed and panicked when he
came back before I could leave. He insisted on walking me back to my
dorm. He talked at me the whole way there, about how nice he thought I
was, and how he and his family stuck up for the women in their town when
they were being harassed by men. I just walked beside him, taking it in
while also not really being there.
When I was in my room, alone, I
looked in the mirror and saw a girl who wasn’t me. This girl had no
expression on her tear-stained face, and the skin exposed by her v-neck
sweater had her own blood smeared on it by the hands of a guy she did
not know at all.
The next morning, I acted as if nothing had
happened. I continued acting as if nothing had happened for years. But
it did happen. A guy with no alcohol in his system, who heard me saying
“no” and could see that I was visibly upset and panicked, pinned me down
until I was no longer a virgin, and became a girl who couldn’t express
herself for too long.
