Honestly, every woman I know has encountered some form of sexual humiliation. Whether through unsolicited comments about their bodies, threats to their safety, or even assaults, it seems every female has felt the sting of someone exerting unhealthy, typically male power over her. The more I reflect on this reality, the more my frustration grows over its profound implications.
A close friend encouraged me to read It’s Not That Bad by Roxane Gay, a collection of poignant essays from diverse voices discussing the lasting impacts of unwanted sexual experiences. As I journey through these narratives, I find myself resonating deeply with the sentiments expressed. Nora Salem’s essay “The Life Ruiner” struck a particular chord: “Perhaps the most horrifying thing about nonconsensual sex is that, in an instant, it erases you.”
While we may appear unchanged on the outside, inside we can feel entirely hollowed out, as if we’ve become empty vessels tossed aside after their contents are gone. We often flee from our bodies and spirits because confronting the shock and pain is nearly unbearable. Our bodies, once places of joy and freedom, transform into mere vessels for our deepest secrets, laden with shame and fear.
This disconnection from ourselves results in losing our inner voice, leaving us adrift in a tumultuous sea of shame. I can vividly recall a moment that changed my life. I asked a man for a ride home, late for curfew and frightened to be with people my parents disapproved of. My protests fell on deaf ears; it was as if I had vanished. I remember the sensation of my spirit leaving my body, floating away.
Afterward, I felt like a ghost, going through life with no real connection to anyone or anything. Standing in the shower, I felt utterly numb, unable to reclaim my spirit. The only warmth I felt was a bubbling anger directed at him and my own perceived foolishness. I carried that darkness within me, seeing reflections of it in countless women I encountered.
With no spirit to ground me, I became those weightless words, using anger as my anchor in the world. This facade helped me maintain a semblance of normalcy—school, work, socializing—while shielding me from internal despair. This cycle continued for years.
Fast forward 18 years, and I am now pregnant! My partner and I are ecstatic to welcome this little being into our lives. As my body transforms, I am starting to feel a deep appreciation for the strength and brilliance of my physical form. For the first time in years, I feel alive and connected to my body, nurturing the life within me.
When it came time for delivery, however, I was jolted back to my vulnerability. The midwife, with little warning, abruptly examined me, and fear washed over me. My partner and I exchanged glances, understanding the impact of my past. The labor lasted forty-three hours, and I struggled to let go, having learned to distrust my own body.
Once our daughter arrived home, the real challenge began. Like many new moms, I was so focused on her wellbeing that I neglected my own. Nursing, although rewarding, proved emotionally taxing. It felt strange to use the part of me that society often objectifies to feed my child. Yet, I persevered, finding some joy in the process.
As my daughter grew into a toddler, I began to feel irritation when she wanted to nurse. I rationalized my feelings as mere exhaustion, but deep down, I realized it was my struggle for control over my body that stirred the anger. The parallels between her clinginess and the unwanted advances of men became painfully clear.
Now that my nursing journey has ended, I’ve noticed a shift. Occasionally, I still feel a pang of fear or anger when my daughter touches me or looks at me too long. I recognize her curiosity about our differences, but it also triggers old wounds. Through depth hypnosis, I’m working to heal that part of myself and reclaim my spirit.
I have learned to uphold my boundaries, asserting that my body belongs to me—and my daughter must understand this too. Through my actions, I hope to instill in her a sense of ownership over her own body, enabling her to identify troubling behaviors in others before they threaten her safety.
In my best moments, I establish these boundaries with kindness; in my worst, I withdraw or lash out. Yet, as I confront my past, I feel an increasing sense of relief. No longer running from my pain, I find balance and am less reactive.
I dream of a future where girls can grow into unbroken women, where individuals of all identities are respected for their unique gifts, not seen as objects of desire. It’s crucial for society to stop attempting to break us; while we are resilient enough to rebuild ourselves, it is a waste of our potential. We will never truly be erased.
For those interested in learning more about pregnancy and its complexities, I recommend checking out this excellent resource on pregnancy. Also, if you’re considering starting a family, our guide to at-home insemination kits and baby makers can provide valuable insights.
Summary:
This article explores the journey of motherhood against the backdrop of the #MeToo movement. It reflects on personal experiences of sexual humiliation and the psychological impacts of such trauma. As a mother, the author navigates the complexities of nurturing while reclaiming her body and spirit, ultimately striving to instill self-respect and boundary-setting in her daughter.
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