Brava, my friend! And, please let me know if you'd consider mentoring a woman I met who's working on her PhD and writing a memoir about home. I think you'd be a wonderful connection for her.
Gosh, that’s really awful to have had that experience. While, I have not had that sexual abuse experience with men, I will say that one of the lessons my mother tried to instill in me growing up, is that a woman must never do anything to make a man uncomfortable. And as you pointed out, it is the worst lesson. Fortunately I totally rejected this lesson. Ive seen the surprise on a few mens faces at the blow up scene I’ve made when men mistook me for someone who wouldn’t make them uncomfortable. And I’ve seen the horror on my mothers face when I stand my ground to an aggressive male and force him to yield ground to me. I’ve even had my mother side with the male in her humiliation that he was made “small” in front of her. I’ve even considered writing a course and building curriculum to address this because I see women getting bullied by men constantly. As women we are supposed to smile, nod and be agreeable. It’s bullshit.
Hi Jan! I would venture mostly all of us have experienced a lot of sick shit. And we SHOULD talk about it. To name it is to tame it, as Brene Brown says. I wanted to make your shame vaporize--because posting that opened an important discussion. Thank you!!!
Hi Jan, I’m glad you wrote this. To be honest, I was very confused about why you felt so terrible about the other Substack post from Womaning in India being accidentally shared. I actually thought it was a good thing that it reached so many more people. ❤️
As a woman, and a mother of two girls, I have always walked in fear. The streets are not safe, the darkness is terrifying, lonely places are frightening but so are crowds. My girls, growing up, used to rail against my caution - text me when you leave school, text me when you get the bus, text me when you reach your friend’s house, don’t walk home alone at night...and so on. Today they agree and understand the need for it, and even though we are a continent apart, they let me know - we’re out tonight, we’re home safely again.
It should not be like this. Mothers and daughters should be able to sleep in peace without such worry. But it has always been so, and I don’t see it changing anytime soon.
You spoke of immigrants. I have lived in the U.K. now for 26 years. I know more about this country’s literature and history, folklore and customs, than most ‘native’ English. But I also know I will never be accepted as belonging here, no matter what. Only yesterday I was told by a woman who invited herself over to my house that I couldn’t possibly understand the Holocaust because I was not ‘from here’. She then went on to tell me how upset she gets when people tell her that British colonialism was bad because after all, her grandfather was a District Commissioner in pre-independent India and he ‘loved’ India. I am sure he did, all slave owners love their exploitative lifestyles. She took my breath away with her assumptions. She was in her 70s and rather frail, so out of respect for her age I did not argue. Another woman, also while sitting on my sofa, wondered at the ‘mispronounciation’ of Sanskrit words by Indians. She knew better of course, simply by virtue of being English. It makes me angry, and it makes me feel unsafe, insecure in a country I have lived in for 26 years. But these are the attitudes here that I run into so casually. So is it any wonder I still can’t call this country home?
When I was a few months short of twelve, I went to visit my best friend in an apartment building in NYC. A totally harmless looking teenage boy entered the self-service elevator after me. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed me and made me go up to the stairwell just inside the door to the roof. He opened his fly and told me to stand with my back to him and rub his penis. There's a lot to say about this thing happening to me, but the most remarkable part remains that a year later I met a girl in summer camp who had had the identical experience with someone who was clearly the same boy in the same neighborhood. That was stunning.
Thank you for this great essay, Jan. The phrase that jumped out for me was "not making a scene." Yup, that was me. That's how I was trained from an early age. Don't make waves, do not under any circumstances offend an adult. Or defy an adult. And when you are an adult yourself, then do not offend the adult who is older than you, even if he's a colleague twice your age and making a pass at you. As if a woman's emotions were somehow vulgar and her having agency presumptuous. It's like playing dead.
Brava, my friend! And, please let me know if you'd consider mentoring a woman I met who's working on her PhD and writing a memoir about home. I think you'd be a wonderful connection for her.
Dragonflies know what's up
Gosh, that’s really awful to have had that experience. While, I have not had that sexual abuse experience with men, I will say that one of the lessons my mother tried to instill in me growing up, is that a woman must never do anything to make a man uncomfortable. And as you pointed out, it is the worst lesson. Fortunately I totally rejected this lesson. Ive seen the surprise on a few mens faces at the blow up scene I’ve made when men mistook me for someone who wouldn’t make them uncomfortable. And I’ve seen the horror on my mothers face when I stand my ground to an aggressive male and force him to yield ground to me. I’ve even had my mother side with the male in her humiliation that he was made “small” in front of her. I’ve even considered writing a course and building curriculum to address this because I see women getting bullied by men constantly. As women we are supposed to smile, nod and be agreeable. It’s bullshit.
Hi Jan! I would venture mostly all of us have experienced a lot of sick shit. And we SHOULD talk about it. To name it is to tame it, as Brene Brown says. I wanted to make your shame vaporize--because posting that opened an important discussion. Thank you!!!
Hi Jan, I’m glad you wrote this. To be honest, I was very confused about why you felt so terrible about the other Substack post from Womaning in India being accidentally shared. I actually thought it was a good thing that it reached so many more people. ❤️
As a woman, and a mother of two girls, I have always walked in fear. The streets are not safe, the darkness is terrifying, lonely places are frightening but so are crowds. My girls, growing up, used to rail against my caution - text me when you leave school, text me when you get the bus, text me when you reach your friend’s house, don’t walk home alone at night...and so on. Today they agree and understand the need for it, and even though we are a continent apart, they let me know - we’re out tonight, we’re home safely again.
It should not be like this. Mothers and daughters should be able to sleep in peace without such worry. But it has always been so, and I don’t see it changing anytime soon.
You spoke of immigrants. I have lived in the U.K. now for 26 years. I know more about this country’s literature and history, folklore and customs, than most ‘native’ English. But I also know I will never be accepted as belonging here, no matter what. Only yesterday I was told by a woman who invited herself over to my house that I couldn’t possibly understand the Holocaust because I was not ‘from here’. She then went on to tell me how upset she gets when people tell her that British colonialism was bad because after all, her grandfather was a District Commissioner in pre-independent India and he ‘loved’ India. I am sure he did, all slave owners love their exploitative lifestyles. She took my breath away with her assumptions. She was in her 70s and rather frail, so out of respect for her age I did not argue. Another woman, also while sitting on my sofa, wondered at the ‘mispronounciation’ of Sanskrit words by Indians. She knew better of course, simply by virtue of being English. It makes me angry, and it makes me feel unsafe, insecure in a country I have lived in for 26 years. But these are the attitudes here that I run into so casually. So is it any wonder I still can’t call this country home?
When I was a few months short of twelve, I went to visit my best friend in an apartment building in NYC. A totally harmless looking teenage boy entered the self-service elevator after me. As soon as the door closed, he grabbed me and made me go up to the stairwell just inside the door to the roof. He opened his fly and told me to stand with my back to him and rub his penis. There's a lot to say about this thing happening to me, but the most remarkable part remains that a year later I met a girl in summer camp who had had the identical experience with someone who was clearly the same boy in the same neighborhood. That was stunning.
If we all told our stories...goodness. The fury/power that would be released.
Thank you for this great essay, Jan. The phrase that jumped out for me was "not making a scene." Yup, that was me. That's how I was trained from an early age. Don't make waves, do not under any circumstances offend an adult. Or defy an adult. And when you are an adult yourself, then do not offend the adult who is older than you, even if he's a colleague twice your age and making a pass at you. As if a woman's emotions were somehow vulgar and her having agency presumptuous. It's like playing dead.