I am really distressed and discombobulated as to why I actually have to say this, however:
Gentlemen: IF YOU DON’T HAVE PERMISSION- YOU DO NOT HAVE ANY RIGHT TO PUT YOUR HANDS ON ME, NO MATTER WHAT I AM WEARING.
A couple nights ago, my sister, her friends, my friends, my boyfriend and I all went out for my sister’s (kind-of) bachelorette party. (Her paperwork for a marriage license went through, but her husband is still in Afghanistan so they haven’t had a ceremony.)
We went to this place called the “Silver Spur” which is infamous for its super terrible country theme, and also people line dancing to Michael Jackson. Although I think this is an unforgivable sin, it is also the most populated club in my city. One does not simply have a quiet kind-of bachelorette party.
Unfortunately for me, this club was on that night, inhabited by dull-witted caitffs who thought it would be an excellent idea to bet one person in their group $20 that he couldn’t get my front-zip dress all the way unzipped while I was on the dance floor.
So whilst I was frolicking, and definitely not line dancing, this fucking reprobate, cur of a human being comes up to me in my group of friends, sticks his hands right against my chest and gives it a good old fashioned heave-ho at getting my dress undone. Yes, in the middle of the dance floor.
It was about that time that I had my fist raised and my hand clenched around his shirt ready to pummel him.
I did not hit him though.
I pushed him away.
And when it looked like he wasn’t going to go, I pushed him harder and said, “Go the fuck away.”
Creative, I know.
I’m not good in moments like these. I have been groped by strangers in public before, and I’m always so surprised when it happens.
You would think I’d be prepared for it by now, but I’m not.
And now that I think about it, why would I get used to people violating my personal body space, just because they think they can get away with it?
Now in for this particular incident, I was angry, but since I thought it was over, I was just prepared to be livid about it and deal.
However, douche canoe #1 was friends with one who I shall creatively call douche canoe #2. He decided that it would be in the best form, to come up to me and tell me how awesome it was that I won him $20. Since his friend was not able to totally unzip my dress, douche canoe #2 won the bet!
Are you not just amazed!?
How awesomely funny!
What a funny and hilarious thing these guys did to me!
I was laughing so hard!
So then I got vocal. I said, “wow, you must feel so proud, winning a $20 bet over sexual assault!”
I approached douche canoe #1 and expressed, that perhaps what he did was an awfully uneducated, awful thing to do to another human being.
And this is where it all went downhill.
After my confrontation with him, not only did he say that I “came on to him,” that I was “asking for it” by what I was wearing, he then ALSO followed it up with, “you can’t prove that I did anything.”
Enter douche canoe #3.
She undoubtedly was the worst part of this whole debacle.
She, a fellow female, actually had the utter internalized, patriarchal stupidity to agree with her two male friends that it was oh-so hilarious and “just a joke.”
She laughed in my face and called me a bitch.
At this point, I started making all kinds of noise. I yelled, and then I got bouncers.
Douche canoe #1 told them, “My wallet has been in my pocket all night. She’s making it up; she can’t prove anything.”
In the end of all this, all the bouncers did was separate our groups. Mine got to go inside, they had to stay outside.
What I wanted was an apology. And I wanted to dick kick douche canoes #1 and #2 to forever prevent procreation. And yes, I wanted to muff stomp douche canoe #3 – while simultaneously shoving “Letters to a Young Feminist” up her left nostril.
Later, one of the bartenders came to check and see if I was alright. He apologized and explained that he tried to get them permanently removed, but that it was up to the bouncers to do so.
Now on the one hand, I really appreciate that the bouncers intervened at all to help me.
On the other hand, they didn’t really do a whole lot. That guy continued to insult me, and all his friends got a good rolicking laugh out of it. I lost.
There’s this whole attitude that “women are just crazy who make up stories to get other people kicked out.”
I don’t do that shit.
I don’t deserve to have people put their hands on me, EVER, without my permission.
I don’t care what I’m wearing.
I don’t care how I’m dancing.
I don’t care how much I have had to drink.
DON’T FUCKING TOUCH ME UNLESS I SAY THAT IT’S OKAY.
I am not sure why those people thought that potentially humiliating me on top of sexual assault would be a funny joke. I didn’t do anything to them. I didn’t even know them.
I have no idea why this attitude exists that any man can put his hands on a woman just because she is a woman.
It’s like they think that my gender is some signed permission slip that grants them the right to violate my bodily autonomy.
And in case some of you think I may be making to big a deal out of this, HE PUT HIS FUCKING HANDS AGAINST MY BREASTS AND TRIED TO UNDO THE ZIPPER TO MY DRESS IN THE MIDDLE OF A CROWDED CLUB.
It doesn’t matter where he tried it.
HE HAD NO FUCKING RIGHT TO TOUCH ME OR TO MESS WITH MY CLOTHING.
Yes, I’m still mad.
I’m mad because he deserved to be punched, and all I had to give were cries in the night that people ignored.
I’m angry because this kind of shit will keep happening to me, to other women, to girls. It will keep happening because there are people that actually believe I can control how douche canoes behave.
So here is my general PSA for douche canoes who think sexual assault is okay:
Whatever evil you have done to me and will do to me; for every evil you have done to my sisters and brothers, I curse you; that all your vileness will come back to you tenfold.