Screw Being Polite

When I was 11 years old, I couldn't walk down the street to my best friend's house without the neighborhood tweaker flicking his tongue at me, or telling me how "hot" I was.

It got to the point where I'd walk the long way, or scope the street to make sure he wasn't out...and then run past his house as fast as I could.

I feared him. That fear carried over to other men who shared his same height, or hair color, or mannerisms. I can remember the panic that would flood my body. The instinct to run so strong, I fought the urge to puke.

This lasted many years. I was eleven, and no part of me was "hot." I was eleven and a child. I was not his child...but he still managed to dig in and steal a chunk of something that was never his to alter.

Innocence. Trust. Mine to shed, not his to take.

I haven't thought about tweaker Dennis in a long time...however, something I witnessed the other night triggered the above memories, but instead of feeling fear...I felt rage.

The kind of rage that halts your breath and drops tears.

Around seven PM, my nine-year-old daughter and I went to our local Safeway.

Our Safeway is a little rough. It's not uncommon to witness loud altercations, fist fights, or someone being apprehended for theft. There's always some type of excitement. Nonetheless, I never feel unsafe. I love the employees and consider some friends/family. I'm there so much, it's like a second home.

So Teet and I walked in...and the first thing I noticed was how dead it was. There were only like 10-15 people in the whole store. It was so weird..all were women with the exception of like three men. I saw my friend working on one of the registers. I walked over to give her some loves. She immediately said "Could you just stand here with me for a minute?" Without another word of "woman code," I knew why. I looked at the three customers in her line and spotted the creep. I stayed there with her until he had gone.

Once he had gone, Teet and I went about shopping. No more than five minutes later, we heard a woman yelling in anger, followed by a man's equally angry response. Thinking nothing of it, we kept shopping..until I heard the words "my eleven-year-old daughter" and then the sobs of a child.

Terror.

For one small moment, I felt it..and then the mom in me took over. I grabbed Teet by the hand and we slowly walked up the aisle to the front of the store. As we were walking up, three women of various ages were walking toward the back of the store...all three sharing the same look on their faces..

Fear and anger.

Two were on the phone with the police. I asked the third woman, "What the hell is going on?"

She told me "there's a man making sexually inappropriate comments to a little girl."

There is not a word for how I felt. It went far beyond rage.

Teet and I continued to the front of the store.

I'll never forget the scene I saw...

Almost every woman in the store was now in the front..including the female employees who'd been working off floor, all of them standing by the mother...around the mother...with the mother. Like an unspoken solidarity...like #notourdaughterstoo.

The mother was telling this man exactly what he was...as her eleven-year-old daughter sat to the side of her, hysterically sobbing.

This man had the nerve to say...

"I can't fuckin believe I can't even tell a woman she looks good."

The mother inched forward with every word..the other women as well....until the piece of shit was out the door, and out of the store.

The sheriffs were waiting for him. He was arrested, but only after he refused to leave the property.

I found out he had cornered the little girl in the aisle and told her "I wanna fuck you in your colon." The terrified little girl told him she was only eleven, to which he replied, "I don't care, age is only a number."

He fucking stole from her. He stole her trust, and he stole a piece of her innocence. Something that was never his to alter.

NEVER. FUCKING. HIS.

I was shaking the whole drive home. I felt fire.

As I told Mark what happened, I couldn't help it..my voice broke. I cried for the eleven-year-old girl just grocery shopping with her mom, and the new life path of fear thrust upon her by some disgusting bastard. I cried for my friend who needed me to stand by her. I cried for the eleven-year-old girl who just wanted to hang out with her best friend. I cried for 16-year-old me and the year I wanted to die. I cried for my Nonna and my mother and my aunt...

I cried for every fucking woman, once a girl, now a forever member of a club we never chose...

You see...there may be a #metoo, but we will do everything in our power to prevent a #hertoo, because our daughters have mothers who don't give a fuck about being polite young ladies, we have powerful voices that carry...and we will fucking fight until we fall...

Nah..

Actually, we will fight until you fall..

Because of #metoo..

There's a #fuckyou..

And all gloves are off.

Our daughters deserve better.