When my daughter was in fifth grade, I can still picture her sitting in front of our wood-burning stove, trying to warm herself. With an old flip phone in hand, she fidgeted while picking up Legos with her toes. Her polka dot socks lay discarded nearby, while cat fur and floor fluff danced around her. Under her winter hoodie, she sported a brown t-shirt adorned with pink ice cream cones. Though she had a strong and lean physique, she still had the frame of a child, approaching her 11th birthday, and she had just faced her first “MeToo” moment. And I found myself doubting her.
Inspired by the bold musician Pink, she had added a striking burst of teal to her shaggy amber pixie cut. One day, she came to me and recounted how, while getting a drink at the school water fountain, a male teacher remarked that her hair was “attractive.” I meticulously questioned her about the details: where she was, who else was present, how far away he was. Could it have been misheard? I needed to be sure, so I peppered her with inquiries. I warned her that once we reported it, we couldn’t retract it. “I understand, Mom,” she repeated. But deep down, I doubted her, and she sensed it in the slight quiver of my voice.
“Are you certain that’s what he said?” I asked, my skepticism creeping in. At that moment, I realized the legacy I was passing on. I shared a history steeped in “no one will believe me,” “maybe I encouraged it,” “it’s not a big deal,” and “he didn’t mean anything by it.” My doubt infected her with a virus that turns catcalls and inappropriate comments into a culture of silence and shame.
Reflecting on my own experiences, I remembered the time when I was sexually harassed by my manager at Dunkin’ Donuts in eighth grade. His vile whispers echoed in my ears until I discovered he had molested a friend. That’s when I took action and called the police.
Years later, when I reported my own assault to someone close to me, I was met with disbelief and accusations of lying. We never spoke of it again. That moment silenced me; I became a girl who stopped reporting. I became a woman with a lifetime of MeToo moments, a woman who endured trauma but remained quiet for far too long.
If you’re a woman reading this, chances are you’ve had your own MeToo moments. You want the cycle to end. You don’t want women to fear dark parking lots, uncomfortable meetings with professors, or the judgment that comes with wearing something revealing. You don’t want them to feel the anxiety of reporting a colleague or the pressure to laugh off inappropriate “jokes.”
The doubt I harbored toward my daughter made my mission clear. It’s time to dismantle the culture that allows men to act without consideration for their words or actions. We must nurture a generation of girls who stand tall. Sharing our stories is vital. We need to talk about the father at school who winks and “accidentally” brushes against us or the coworker who makes an inappropriate move during a meeting. We must express how these interactions make us feel, how they rob us of our breath and autonomy.
We should stand united, forming support networks and advocating for change within our schools and communities. Let’s create a safe environment where our daughters can thrive without fear. We need to believe them, without hesitation and without doubt.
For more on this topic, check out other insightful posts at Home Insemination Kit, an excellent resource for pregnancy information is Facts About Fertility, and for a comprehensive guide on self-insemination, visit Make A Mom.
In summary, we must challenge our doubts and support the next generation of girls by sharing our experiences and advocating for their safety. Let’s foster a culture of belief and action.
Leave a Reply