I've been sitting on these stories for a long time. Too long. Even #metoo didn't get me to publish this, though I wrote it down.
My outrage has been growing, and, as for many women, so has my conviction that I have to tell my own story. People need to understand how powerless women feel, how confused, how humiliated and how demeaned.
I'm not going to name names. It was a long time ago and nothing will be gained by destroying their reputations at this late date. I've heard no hints of anything for many years.
But I haven't forgotten.
The first one was my boyfriend for three long years. He had a reputation, I heard, but no one wanted to spell it out for me.
The first one was my boyfriend for three long years. He had a reputation, I heard, but no one wanted to spell it out for me.
I found out the first time he kicked me. He was upset with me and as we walked down the sidewalk I suddenly was thrown forward by the force of a kick to my behind.
I was shocked into inaction. I got into the car with him, and then, as the full meaning of what had just happened hit me, I demanded that he stop. I wanted out. He ignored me and took me home. I got out of the car and went into my house determined to never see him again. He roared off, his tires squealing up the city street.
I was shocked into inaction. I got into the car with him, and then, as the full meaning of what had just happened hit me, I demanded that he stop. I wanted out. He ignored me and took me home. I got out of the car and went into my house determined to never see him again. He roared off, his tires squealing up the city street.
Hours later, he showed up outside my window, apologizing, smoothing it over, cajoling.
I kept dating him. Of course, now I wonder what the hell I was thinking. But I was young. I was crazy about him. And crazy is the operative word here, because I had to be to stay with him as time went on.
He had too much to drink one night and slapped me as I drove him home. I didn't throw him out of the car. I wanted to. I should have.
Finally, there was the day we went biking together. As we pedaled along the bike path, he pushed me over. I fell onto the pavement, knee bleeding, head spinning, palms full of gravel. In a flash he was on the ground, cradling me in his arms, apologizing over and over and over.
We went to his mother's house that afternoon.
She peered at me, at the bandages. "He pushed you, didn't he?" she asked.
I denied it. But she knew.
I still didn't break up with him. And of course, I never told my parents what the man I loved had done. But it was the start of the end. I knew I could never marry him, could never trust him with children. He was violent. I loved him. But that was my problem. I couldn't make him anyone else's problem.
After I broke up with him he stalked me. He'd leave notes on my car.
He had too much to drink one night and slapped me as I drove him home. I didn't throw him out of the car. I wanted to. I should have.
Finally, there was the day we went biking together. As we pedaled along the bike path, he pushed me over. I fell onto the pavement, knee bleeding, head spinning, palms full of gravel. In a flash he was on the ground, cradling me in his arms, apologizing over and over and over.
We went to his mother's house that afternoon.
She peered at me, at the bandages. "He pushed you, didn't he?" she asked.
I denied it. But she knew.
I still didn't break up with him. And of course, I never told my parents what the man I loved had done. But it was the start of the end. I knew I could never marry him, could never trust him with children. He was violent. I loved him. But that was my problem. I couldn't make him anyone else's problem.
After I broke up with him he stalked me. He'd leave notes on my car.
"I love you. I could have smashed your windshield but I didn't."
He banged on my door. Then he banged on my new boyfriend's door. He stood outside on the street under my apartment, just standing there. I sat in the dark under the windowsill, crying.
I moved. A lot. And he always found me. It was scary at first, but after a while it was just sad and kind of funny. The last time I moved and he found me, I opened the door, let him in and showed him around my latest apartment.
We both knew it was over. The stalking ended.
But work also presented challengers for a young woman in a male-dominated industry. Particularly a very sheltered, immature and naive young woman.
I was a television news broadcaster. There was a cameraman who turned every single comment by me or anyone else into a sexual innuendo. There was another who didn't like to work with women.
During those early days with Violent Guy, I worked with an older man who was my mentor - and someone I absolutely adored. People thought there was something more going on, but there wasn't, at least for me. The inappropriate comments, the innuendo, it was all part of a friendship with him. It finally escalated to a full-scale proposition, which I turned down. He moved on and I, child that I was, was actually surprised. I suppose he thought I was leading him on.
During those early days with Violent Guy, I worked with an older man who was my mentor - and someone I absolutely adored. People thought there was something more going on, but there wasn't, at least for me. The inappropriate comments, the innuendo, it was all part of a friendship with him. It finally escalated to a full-scale proposition, which I turned down. He moved on and I, child that I was, was actually surprised. I suppose he thought I was leading him on.
And years later I learned that my mentor was downright cruel to a woman who he didn't find attractive. He demeaned her, discouraged her, and, in short, treated her completely differently than he treated me, as well as other women he liked the look of.
There was a lot of bad behavior in the workplace toward women in the 80s. But it wasn't confined to those days.
In the early 2000s I found myself working as executive level staff at a large organization. I had a boss who informed me he wouldn't have hired me had it been his choice - I was "too old." I was ten years younger than he was. He questioned everything I did, even when I was following instructions from the person who was HIS boss, and responded with panic to every workplace call I made without his input, convinced it was going to cause a "huge" issue. Somehow, it never did. But he led me to question my own judgement, and eventually made me so miserable that I quit.
