Trigger warning: This article contains mentions of sexual harassment, violence, and misconduct.
I STILL feel frustrated, but I couldn’t blame myself for being confused at 11 years old—I never knew how to talk or act around boys. In particular, while I was in elementary school, my male classmates in my Catholic school sexually harassed me. These boys always wanted to know what my body looked like underneath my schoolgirl clothes.
I sustained a numb reaction for a long time, and I felt voiceless with all the sexual comments thrown at me.
For months, they tormented me online—asking me if I knew the words jakol, iyot, and virginity. They taught me how to have sex, even if I never asked for it—I never wanted to hear it from them.
Every day, I would receive sexual messages from the boy who sat next to me, and I couldn’t help but overthink if he had been staring at different parts of my body throughout class. Meanwhile, the boy sitting across from me drew inappropriate body parts on our blackboard. He did this after I saw him peeking through the window—when I was changing my clothes for my best friend’s swimming party.
Like any other school, there will always be a popular jock that girls would swoon for. This particular one tried to manipulate me into sending explicit images to him. This snapped me out of reality, and nothing would have changed if I didn’t speak up.
I reached out to my closest guy friends who were also buddies with this particular jock. They didn’t do anything. I was still afraid to report my classmates’ misconduct due to possible retaliation.
Fortunately, they all stopped when I reported these issues to our student discipline office. Despite the panic-stricken and cold looks from the boys, I felt the sudden rush of relief that I will no longer be hearing from any of them.
Ten years later, the question came into my mind: Were the sanctions enough? I wasn’t aware if they were put on probation or if their parents were made aware of what happened. In spite of the trauma, I chose to stay silent to avoid chaos and shame, while exercising caution as a lesson for future relationships.
Even up to this day, my family has no idea of my ordeals. I never wanted to burden them with the thought that their youngest daughter can experience sexual harassment at a young age.
But I wonder: What happens if you continue to stay silent? The perpetrator continues to become your best friend’s best friend or your teacher’s pet in class. Most importantly, they get to live a guilt-free life—one without shame and trauma.
Women are continually disciplined to be silent: What would everyone else think of me for being a victim of sexual harassment? Will my parents think lowly of me, or will they protect me from this world of misogyny?
People will always try to downsize our abilities as women. Nonetheless, I will still choose to be a woman.
Although we are working towards a better community where women are now more accepted, the challenging notions of the patriarchy still exist. Yet, we can take the first steps in holding men accountable. There should be dire changes in institutional policies: Advancing those that don’t favor the perpetrator and don’t prevent survivors from speaking out.
The time to heal will always be longer than the time to speak up. Either way, there should be no rush in doing so. After 10 years of reflection, I see that sexual harassment chooses no age and occurs everywhere. Our voices as women are stronger than we think, as we recall from the #MeToo Movement. There is nothing wrong with seeking help—this is a right that we shouldn’t compromise.
If we don’t protect ourselves today, we fail to protect our daughters and granddaughters. We lose the capacity to defend girls walking in the streets. We are unable to address the societal system against women, which is patriarchal in nature.
