there-is-light-despite-all-of-the-darkness
Over the past few weeks, several members of my family have been out to NYC to visit us, filling our home with laughter-filled happy reunions. Phillip and I took on the roles of hosts and tourist guides, taking them to some of our favorite parts of Manhattan. In one of our hangout sessions, we headed into Chelsea Market, perusing the various shops, stalls and restaurants, delighting in each other’s company and the plethora of options available to us.I came across a jewelry stand that caught my attention and so paused to take a better look at the large stone rings displayed across the counter. My family members had all dispersed about the market and I soaked in the moment of delighting in something beautiful, appreciating the craft behind the objects before me.I love jewelry. I think I’ve always been a bit of a magpie, attracted to pretty things that sparkle and shine. Walking into a flea market or passing through an outdoor fair is like stepping into Aladdin’s cave; an inordinate amount of treasure just waiting to be discovered.All of a sudden I felt a hand grasp my bottom as somebody walked behind me. For a split second I thought it might be my husband, so turned around with a smile on my face, but it was swiftly wiped away as I watched a stranger walk past me. The young man continued down the aisle of stalls, his features hidden behind dark sunglasses and a large pair of headphones. As I watched, he did an about-turn and came back towards me. I looked away as I began to question my own understanding of what had just happened. Did he really just grab me like that? Maybe I imagined it. Maybe it was all in my head, I mean, there are plenty of people about. Maybe it was an accident.Then it happened again. A hand on my bum. An unmistakable grope as someone passed by me. Shocked, I looked around to see the man in headphones walking by again and disappearing into the crowd. In disbelief and anger, my fumbled thoughts landed on, “where is Phillip? Find Phillip!” I frantically began searching the market area for a glimpse of my husband. Catching sight of him across the room, I darted in his direction.My hands were shaking now and I felt a sudden desire to cry. At the same time I wanted to hide. The last place I wanted to be now was right where I was, surrounded by people and noise and eyes; eyes looking at me, watching me, groping me.“Some guy just felt me up; twice!” I blurted out to Phillip as I finally reached him.“What?! Where is he?!” My husband was suddenly awake and coming to my defense.Pointing the man out of the crowd, I watched Phillip quickly pursue him as my own sense of dignity struggled to maintain its hold.A few minutes later, as I stood in the comforting presence of my sister, I spotted my assailant coming quickly towards me again with my husband and another guy in quick pursuit. It turned out that as Phillip had approached him to confront him, he had done it again to another unsuspecting woman. I watched them all getting closer to me, the suspect clearly trying to make his exit as swiftly as possible. I was frozen. If I just took one step to the side I could stop him; I could confront him. I was scared. I felt vulnerable. I felt ashamed. I didn’t want to make a scene, create a fuss, be the centre of any public drama. So I stood there. I watched him approach me, felt him brush past me, heard him asking people to get out of his way and saw him exit the market and disappear down the street.Seconds later and Phillip was running outside after him, trying to track him down. But he was gone and I had no desire to shop anymore.That evening I sat in the quiet of our apartment, the comfort of our sofa enveloping me like a warm hug, as I tried to let my thoughts and emotions unravel themselves with a cup of tea in hand and an episode of Blue Bloods playing on my laptop. We had informed a security guard of what had occurred and he had quickly jumped to my defense, putting out a warning to the rest of the building’s security team. My sisters and brother-in-law had poured love over me, been outraged on my behalf and given me the space I needed to process and recover. I had been defended, cared for, affirmed.Sexual assault immediately leaves you feeling ‘less-than’.It’s not the first time I’ve experienced this kind of abuse but I think in previous moments I didn’t always process it as wrong. I felt that I deserved it somehow. I believed the lie that ‘it’s just what happens so don’t make a big deal of it’. I’ve been groped in my work place, felt up in a bar, touched inappropriately on the street. But no big deal right? I mean, most of my friends have been through the same thing. It comes with the territory. It’s part of the package of being a woman.But I felt violated, cheapened, taken advantage of and outraged that someone other than my husband had touched me. I’d been robbed; we both had. Someone had had the audacity to overstep the boundary of honour, respect and care for another human being in order to satisfy a private urge; a lustful desire.This was the first time though that I had felt protected in the aftermath, encouraged to speak out and people had outrightly agreed that it was not okay; it was an injustice. Phillip’s love, care and fierce pursuit of justice for me had gone a long way to restore my heart and help me move beyond the sense of trauma and into healing.Out of the 3.5 billion women that are in the world today, I am just one. I could choose to believe that my voice isn’t important, that it doesn’t make much of a difference what I do or say, or I could choose to speak out regardless and believe that the vibrations of my words will have a ripple affect far beyond my physical reach.Every two minutes someone in America is sexually assaulted.That statistic is horrendous and it isn’t going to go anywhere if we stay silent; if women lose their power to speak and men lose their ability to love and defend them.So this is me speaking out. This is me asking you to help put an end to an epidemic that goes far beyond American shores. To see true value restored to both genders. I believe we can do it. I believe it’s possible if we walk in love, if we see a stranger as a brother or sister rather than an object or target of desire; if we can see each other as equal. Sex was never meant to be our god but it seems to have become one and I think it’s about time we saw our universe realigned with truth.I guess today’s blog comes with a bit of a challenge and a request from one friend to another. Would you join me in doing something to turn the tide? Maybe that’s speaking out in your own community, donating to a local non-profit, contacting your government to find out what they are doing, learning more about sexual exploitation and its effects, joining the Beauty for Ashes Movement or working through whatever that ‘thing’ is that is currently preventing you from loving the opposite gender as you love yourself.Maybe my experience will begin to become an abnormality rather than a commonality.
