My story pertains to a particular individual whom our community who has been dubbed a “pedigree chef” and is idolized for his accomplishments. But something that hasn’t been brought to light is the fact that he is, without any sugar coating, a rapist. I come to you not looking for sympathy, but rather in hopes to offer some guidance on how to move forward with shedding light on this person and revealing his treatment of women.

In July of 2015 I was sent on a work trip to California to help open a new restaurant. I knew just about everyone I was working alongside with, and could even go as far to say I was friends with the majority. Everything was going fine and well until July 18. It was a Saturday we had all been working such long hours and needed to blow off some steam. The training team went out to a bar and we were all letting loose, dancing and having fun. The girl whom I was rooming with and I decided it was getting late, we were tired and we should go back to the hotel.

After it being sometime of our return, we heard loud music, laughter, and boisterous voices getting closer. There was a knock on our room door and it was that chef with several other people. We explained to him how we were tired and didn’t want to continue hanging out. He proceeded to force himself into our room and the slew of other individuals followed. Both us girls tried very hard to get everyone to leave our room but since they were all inebriated it took more time than either of us liked. Eventually we got them all to leave but because of the amount of peer pressure we left with them. Chris started to act funny around this time. He was becoming increasingly irritable. He would go off by himself occasionally or sit away and pout. Being that Chris and I had been friends for several years I was concerned. I tried talking to him about what was going on. The information I had gathered was how he was upset that the women he had invited all left with different men. My roommate and I still wanted to leave so we told everyone goodbye. The chef and some of the others said they had belongs in our room and wanted to get them. My roommate and I were sitting on our beds once again trying to get people to leave saying how we were exhausted. I told everyone, so I thought, goodbye and gave hugs but I was unable to keep my eyes open and passed out almost immediately.

I am stirred awake in the middle of the night to a sensation in my pubic region. I was so disoriented I couldn’t figure it out, it was almost like I was having a sex dream. I shook it off as me being tired and went back to bed. I woke up again to the same thing but this time I was more conscious and realized someone was definitely fingering me. I was so disoriented that I thought “maybe my roommate is being weird? Is she doing weird sleep things to me?” I had no idea who or what it could be or maybe I was just being super crazy. So I kicked around my legs and moved my body into the fetal position and forced myself to go back to sleep. I woke up a third time and this time it was no dream and I was very aware of the fact I was being fingered and it was abrasive and forceful. I had realized someone was sitting on top of me so I was pinned down. I was laying on my stomach and I turned my head to see who it was on me and it was the chef. He didn’t have pants on and was rubbing his hard penis on my back and butt and was trying to put his penis into my vagina.

Once I fully comprehend what was happening I kicked him off of me. I realized my shorts were no longer on me and my underwear were pulled down to a little higher than my midthigh so I grabbed my phone and a towel and ran out of the room. I went into the ice room near by and hid because I didn’t know if he was going to follow me or what to expect. I called a friend for help and was let into another person’s hotel room where I knew I’d be safe.

It wasn’t until I was in my friends room that I realized I hadn’t checked to see if my roommate was in our room still. I called her and the room several times. My friend called the chef’s phone a lot too. Seeing if we could get ahold of them. Finally my roommate answered the room phone and I told her if the chef was still in there that she need to get out.

We got together and shared a very similar story. We had found out that in between moments of being woken up to sexual assault he would do the same thing to the other person. It was like he was trying to see how far he could go without waking one of us up.

I had hoped that after the assault I could just try to move on and do all the healing I could, and become a stronger woman because of it. Most days that is still my mentality. However, he is opening a restaurant just a hop skip and a jump from my work. . He happens to be opening nearby restaurant, alongside a friend of mine. I had thought after my rape the betrayal would stop, but it continues.

This friend was one of the first people to know what happened on that night last July. He even asked if I was ok to give him as much or as little detail as I felt comfortable with because he was supposed to be opening a restaurant with him and didn’t want to have someone like that working with him. I held nothing back and beard my soul to him. When I came back from California, the same friend whom was my manager at the time pulled me aside and said he would not be moving forward with the chef and was apologetic of what I had gone through. To my surprise the dynamic duo is now back in action! I have not spoken with either of them since. Everyone once in awhile the friend attempts to come into my work but when he sees I’m working leaves.

I am not looking for anything for myself, but rather to help the women that are affected. Attackers do not just attack once, as shown by his actions with my roommate and I. Any females hired are not only in jeopardy but they have a boss who simply knows the truth and chose to turn his head the other way.

Chanel Lee

So here I go….

I had flown down to LA to work a pop-up event alongside some of my co-workers and Alex. During the course of this event, I got too drunk and consequently had to stop working. The embarrassment was real. This was the first time that I had been given an opportunity of this nature, and despite my actions, I had wanted to represent myself and my bar well.

After the event wrapped, a large group of us went to a strip club. Quite unsure of where I stood in the eyes of others, I tagged along praying that I wouldn’t embarrass myself further. Once inside, while others were waiting at the bar I preceded to sit down next to Alex. We sat there in silence for a moment, at which point he turned to me, put his hand on my leg and began to tell me how he would “like to see me up on that stage, naked, and to have the chance to throw money at me,” and how he imagined that I would like it too. He then preceded to tell me all of the things that he would like to do to me, and again how he imagined that I would like it.

There was that feeling again… embarrassment.

I felt my face flush, and my inside’s shake because my first thought was, “See! See what you did!” I blamed myself and my poor actions earlier in the night for the reasoning behind why he now thought so little of me. I ran countless names of other strong, successful women within this industry through my head like a check list of who I was sure he would never say anything like this too, and who I now felt reaffirmed that I could never be like. Looking back, it is this moment that makes me the angriest. Alex’s actions were not my fault, they were his. Period.

After reading the entries by other women, it is quite clear that I was fortunate. That my experience was not as violating. It is my sincere hope, in retelling my experience that this reaches any woman who has had the same thought process run through her mind in that moment. Please hear me when I say that it is not your fault. You did not ask for someone to belittle you, to place his hands on you, or devalue you as a human being. It is the responsibility of all of us to put a stop to this mistreatment of women, and to elevate the victim out of feeling at fault.

Nearly 1 in 5 women a year experience some degree of sexual assault. This is a truly horrifying statistic. Platforms like the one created here are an incredible way to start the conversation and to shine light on the injustices that all too often women have to face within their professional, social, political, and familial worlds.

Let’s push to keep this conversation going. Anyone who would like to donate their support to victims of sexual assault crimes here is a list of agencies:

Support Victims of Crime

Sexual Assault Awareness- CDC

How to Help Victims of Sexual Assault- Department of Justice

For anyone who has been a victim, here are some hotlines and websites. Please do not turn the anger or the blame inward, you were not the perpetrator.

National Sexual Assault Hotline  800. 656.HOPE (4673)

National Hotline for Crime Victims: 1-855- 4-VICTIM (1-855- 484-2846)

Now as I have these thoughts bouncing around in my head, I try to save face during service and carry on with my duties. Meanwhile, a co-worker utters “behind” as if reaching for a bottle but instead I get fondled and the crew has a laugh. I have a laugh as well, but it’s forced. I tense up. I step away as if reaching for another bottle, masking the futile attempt for reaching peace of mind. Off in the distance, I see the others spank and grind on each other. We all laugh because it’s funny, right? Oh my god, two dudes behind the bar! How quirky! How fun! But among this machismo mire I struggle with who I am.

Several jobs I have worked in the past had similar “games”: I recall an establishment (unnamed to retain my identity) I worked at, the dynamic duo, two guys whom always ate lunch together and drank after work together, nearly inseparable, would prowl mischievously about the building during end of shift and would target other male co-workers and proceed to “rape” them i.e. bend them over boxes or pick them up and lay them on a surface and dry-hump them, hollering and laughing and screaming. The recipient of this game would yell at them to stop, punch them in the nuts, maybe even finish off in a headlock, but the laughs were had after. Luckily I was never a part of this but the imagery was haunting. Minutes later, the game was repeated, a new victims, sexual harassment-perpetuated.

I read these confessions and feel a solidarity with these brave women. They are “twice the man” I’ll ever be. I commend all of these people stepping forward and putting the spotlight on the nightmare some of us still endure. And yes, shocker, a man get get sexually harassed too. And dudes, next time you reach for the “two scoops and a sack of nuts” or whatever, just be conscious that there are many like me that live in the shadows of our sexuality.

I was fresh into a relationship with somebody I was and am, madly in love with. I was excited to go to New Orleans with all my friends and NOT commit any semblance of infidelity. I was excited to tell my friends about how I’m finally in a really good place, or what seems like it will be (for a number of reasons). Fast forward to the sad realization that a number of “trusted” male friends had no regard or respect for any of this.

I was sitting in some bar with him, confiding about how I was sick and tired of not trusting the trustworthy people and literally describing how good it felt to finally be in a healthy relationship. “I can’t hear you, let’s have a smoke and talk,” he says. Ok, Alex. He grabs me beyond firmly by the arm and pulls me into a dark back room. I think, “maybe you can smoke back here?” Nah. He begins to put the full weight of his body on mine and shoves his tongue down my throat. “Dude, what the fuck are you doing?” He replies, “Sorry.” Then he does it again. I leave.

I barely thought twice about it, until I read these posts. Why is it that as women we are so goddamned used to this behavior? I pass this shit off constantly. We all do. I served this fucker so many times after hours and after the fact. He apologized, because someone I mentioned it to had told him. It’s the only reason he apologized. I sincerely doubt there was genuine remorse. And like cause, whatever, everyone will just say “we were all drunk!”
I’ve been tossing around saying this for a long time because of a number of things. Literally just now, I had a friend ask me for advice on whether she should speak about her physically abusive boyfriend for fear he might lose his job and visa, and I actually had to think about it.
FUCK. THIS.
This is no longer a question for me. Fuckin’ speak up ALWAYS. If it feels sketchy, it probably is.

A. ANGER. This is a feeling I can gratefully say I don’t experience often. I am diplomatic to a fault, always seeing both sides of the equation, and forgiveness comes easy to me. It does not now. I am on fire.

B. SADNESS. Sad for all those who were afflicted. Sad for your wife. Sad for your kids. Sad for your family. Sad for you. Sad that I, as your best friend, didn’t say a goddamn thing. Sad for our other friends who also let it slide. Did they even know? Will we ever know?

C. SHAME. I am beyond ashamed. So ashamed in fact, that it has taken me two weeks to even write this thing because I have had to dive deep and uncover years and years of denial, self-deception, and neglect that factor into the dreadful decisions that I chose to make for some time now. Ashamed that I went into business with you and brought the best of the best into the picture. Innocent folks who will now carry the burden of this unsavory disaster for some time, no doubt.

D. FEAR. I am smart. I am observant. I am a protector. How the FUCK did I miss this? How the FUCK did we all miss this? I am always the last man standing. I am always the one that is secretly disengaged staring out into the distance, looking or dreaming about what’s next. How the FUCK did I miss you hurting my friends? Did you not do it when I was around because you were doing it to me? Or perhaps I was distracting you long enough with laughs or conversation until we all decided it was time to go home?

E. GUILT. For not speaking earlier. For letting some of the most important men in my life impact my decision to not speak up. For being so WEAK that I let my decisions be affected by anyone but myself. I’m sick to my stomach at the end of the day because I still miss you and still feel for you and the pain that you are going through. Why and how is that even close to a rational thought that I should be having?

Almost two months ago, I lost my job, a job I intended to turn into a serious career due to inappropriate sexual behavior between myself and my best friend, mentor, and would-have-been future business partner. I need to make it clear that I never felt as though I was in a compromised situation during these times. When it got weird, and I asked you to stop, you always obliged.

For two years now, I let you touch me in the dark recesses past closing time when we should have been just innocently sharing a smoke. For two years now, I let you whisper and snarl detailed accounts of things you wanted to do to me where I would desperately try to change the subject. For two years now, I answered my phone when it would ring at 4 or 5 AM with you on the other line inebriated to the point where you can barely speak in fear that you were in trouble or something was wrong. But no, you were calling to tell me that you wanted to “bury [your] head between my legs and make me shiver.”

I let you do these things because I trusted you. I let you do these things because I was blind. Blinded by the good you did, yes, and blinded by the trauma inflicted on me in the past that I guess has made me so numb at this point that I can no longer feel.

I look to you, the audience, an audience that you so forced us to cultivate with our social media posts and our emails and our FUCKING #hashtags to develop meaning, to help us break apart the constructs of our current reality that find us passively accepting, forgiving, or turning a blind eye.

While you suffer for these mistakes, I sincerely hope that I do too. I deserve to burn with you for this silence. As humans, we have language, and our language is a tool for doing as well as an action in its information capacity.  Words both provoke and constitute action. I chose not to use these words until now. I have learned that there was a numbness coating my existence that I mistook for indifference which convinced me that standing up for myself wasn’t necessary. I was wrong. I was wrong about so many things, but you were more wrong.

I suppose I should thank you (which is far more disgusting and goes to prove that the psychological damage that you inflicted goes too deep for understanding) for allowing me to recognize the impact of my taciturn response to what I experienced with you. I had no idea, like so many others and my awareness is now dialed up to the highest frequency possible, but unfortunately it’s a bit late for that.

Up until this point, I felt as though my story did not deserve a place in the public eye due to the fact that I cannot pursue legal action for anything beyond firing me unjustly for your sick, sick proclivities. However, this silence that we have all been tuned into on channel fucking four, is deafening. I’m gonna turn it down a little bit…

I didn’t tell anyone what happened that night. At the time, I didn’t really think much of it. As a woman, it wasn’t my first time to turn down an aggressive advance, and sadly, I’m sure it won’t be the last. Over the course of this year, I’ve only mentioned this story to a couple of people. No one seemed that concerned about it, so in turn, I continued to allow myself to think nothing of it. I wrote it off as just another one of many times I’ve been made to feel uncomfortable or sexually assaulted by a man. After all, he didn’t actually touch me. I mean, he didn’t rape me, so really, it wasn’t that bad, right?

Wrong.

I told myself it was a one off. I had no idea he was a predator. After hearing the accounts of so many other women, I am so angry with myself for not telling people. Verbal and physical sexual assault is so common that it’s easy to become numb to it. Sometimes it’s the only way to cope when it happens to you all the time. You begin to put these events into a hierarchical system of what you should spend your energy being upset about and what you should just brush off. If you didn’t, you’d just be upset all the time and spiral down the rabbit hole of wondering why life is like this for women.

Why do I have to constantly fear being drugged and/or raped? Why do I get called a bitch for turning down someone’s advances? Why do I get called a slut for accepting the advances of someone I’m interested in? Did I only get chosen for this job because he wants to fuck me? Then there’s the hand job you somehow feel obligated to give when you don’t want to sleep with a guy but he makes you feel like you’ve “wasted” his night. Don’t even get me started on cat calls. And why do strangers think it’s okay to grind up behind you on the dance floor when you are clearly just trying to silly dance with your girls?

But you can’t live life being upset about these things all the time. You’d go mad. So instead, you end up just letting some man tell you how bad he wants to fuck you or pin you against a wall or put his hand on your thigh, tell yourself it wasn’t that bad, and move on because, thankfully, you weren’t raped.

Then there’s the fear of what people will think of you. What will it do to my career? Will people just write me off as overreacting? Will I just become the girl that accuses men of misconduct even though it “wasn’t a big deal” and “he was just drunk”? Because after all, if you called out all the men that ever said or did anything inappropriate to you, none of the other men would want to associate with you for fear of being the next accused, and when you live and work in a male dominated industry, you can’t take that risk. Silence often feels like the only course of action.

Some of my male coworkers asked me how this could happen to so many different women on so many different occasions without anyone finding out. This is how. As women, this is our reality. Every day. We have been conditioned into silence as a form of survival and perseverance in the profession we have chosen.

Speaking up is difficult, but it is the right thing to do if we ever want things to change. I am so proud of the women who have come forward. You are all so brave and fierce. I was lucky to have escaped my incident with him when I did. Others were not so fortunate, but hopefully in creating this dialogue, we can create some awareness to the fact that sexual assault in our community is an issue and that nothing can excuse it.

#stopthesilence

M.K.

The next time I ran into him was on another visit to LA at an industry event at a popular LA area bar. It rolled into a night cap at a strip club, stumbling distance away. He and I sat next to one another at the rack, and he informed me he would be visiting Portland, OR–my home city, the next month. As a brand representative, I was excited to talk with him more about the possibility of networking with brands when he came to town. He told me there was opportunity to discuss, and I was hungry for new business.

A month later, we met up at said event in Portland, afterwards proceeding along with our strip club-hop plans/business conversation as we had previously discussed. We ended up at Sassy’s and he told me he didn’t like the crowd, and wanted to head to Union Jacks, just the two of us. I obliged, as I am accustomed to entertaining clients. Plus, we still hadn’t had a chance to talk business.

He and I ended up being the only industry people there, and when we went outside to the smoking patio, taking a seat on a bench he grabbed my face and began kissing me, while trying to reach into my shirt. I immediately pulled away in disgust, telling him, “You’re married! I’ve met your wife! What the fuck?” He was drunk and I wasn’t, so I drove him back to his hotel which was a mile from the where we were and dropped him off. The drive gave me an opportunity to lecture him on his appalling behavior–my useless appeal to the humanity that I wanted to believe was somewhere within him.

While my story isn’t as disgusting as some of the others, it was still deeply invalidating for me. Despite the questions I asked him to try and understand, “Why be married? Why me? Is this the way you always act out of town? What about your wife and children? How do you justify it?” The glazed over look in his eyes was all the answer I needed; because he could. He acted like he respected my opinion because I called him out, but I bet he has no memory of that incident. I was just another opportunity for his selfish, abusive behavior.

I wanted to talk business. I wanted a strong, respected new ally in an industry that I already felt disenfranchised by due to the disgusting amount of abuse/support toward my abusers, that I’ve been living in the shadow of.

The message received was that I wasn’t worth that business conversation; I don’t deserve respect, I’m just a toy to cop a feel on. I’ve received this message more times than I can count from some of the men in this industry. As always, I question myself; what did I do wrong? Why did I deserve this? How do I stop this from happening again?  I felt guilt and shame for going to strip clubs with him. While objectifying women is not for me, I accept strip clubs as part of the Portland and industry culture. However, all I could think was, I did this. I invited this upon myself by putting myself in this situation. I provoked him somehow, and had I been without my wits it would have ended far worse for me.

I’ve felt anger and disgust toward him since. Watching his Facebook posts about “that dad life”, how much he loved his family and was respected by the industry community–when I knew had my defenses been down I would have been further victimized by him made me feel sick. The thought of speaking up didn’t really cross my mind. If I fought for myself or spoke up–as much of my experience in this industry has taught me–I’d be disregarded as dramatic, a liability, emotional, attention-seeking, pathetic, a trainwreck, alcoholic, etc. He had power and I didn’t. My experience with him was mild in comparison to some of the offenders I’ve been victimized by within this industry, which in light of all of those coming forward is horrific. These men have the power, I don’t. That has been made clear. They have a voice, I don’t. They matter, I don’t. This is bullshit and I’m sick of it.

I’ve been terrified to share my story, my stories because I chose to drink, I chose to party, and I chose to put myself in situations where harm was a possibility. I want to be accountable for the things I could and should have done differently. This does not mean I deserved assault, rape or other forms of abuse. I’m tired of the abuse. I’m sick and fucking tired of being invalidated. I’m tired of the pain. I’m tired of the shame. I don’t want or deserve to be victimized. I don’t want to keep having the same conversations with both women and men at how disgusted we all are and seeing little to no change. I’ve been a part of that by not fighting harder and letting my pain and anger rule me, thus being my own worst enemy.

I cannot say enough how grateful I am to the brave women who chose to speak out against this man, and now others. To be clear, my aim is not to socially shame an individual, it’s to do anything I can to help someone not go through what I have and to stop those from continuing to treat others, primarily women with such disregard and disrespect.

It’s taken me refocusing onto a new career to build back the confidence I lost. I still remain professionally active in the liquor industry, but from a safe distance that involves less room for error on behalf of myself and others.

As I wrap this up, I think it’s important for us all to remember a few things regarding this individual and the countless others like him:

1. Sexual assault is a crime. It’s not just some naughty, ‘boy’s will be boy’s behavior,’ it’s fucking illegal.

2. The United States Department of Justice defines sexual assault as any type of sexual contact or behavior that occurs without the explicit consent of the recipient. This includes groping, fondling and forced entry, among other acts.

3. At least in the state of Oregon, in order to serve alcohol we are required to carry state certification cards holding us legally accountable for recognizing the symptoms of intoxication to prevent us from over-serving people, thus reducing harm to others. Sexual assault is not covered under this certification. As explained to me by the detective whom I reported my two most damaging industry related sexual assaults to, the gray area when alcohol is involved is too vast, and too volatile due to the varied tolerance of individuals. What I learned through the reporting process is unless you are on film or otherwise witnessed either unconscious or aggressively fighting the aggressor off, you will most likely not get justice. I don’t say this to deter anyone from reporting crimes, but to illustrate how important it is to change the toxic dialogue, culture, excuses and behavior that perpetuate rampant, inexcusable sexual assault. Ultimately, it harms us all.

4. Sexual assault is a social problem and social justice is the first step to improving this problem. Let’s restructure. Let’s start showing some fucking support and respect towards the women who work just as hard and deserve equal recognition, not abuse and assault.

5. To the women who have spoken up, I cannot thank you enough for reigniting the strength in me I thought I had lost. To the men who fight for the dignity and safety of women, thank you. To those who stand idly by, step up. Fight for us, we need you.

#86Silence

The first time, I was at her bar, and she kept encouraging me to drink more me until I was black out drunk.  She offered me a ride home, and the next thing I remembered was waking up naked in bed with her while she joked about how I passed out in the middle of her raping me.

The second time, about a month later, I was with a co-worker having drinks at my house. She kept putting drinks in front of me until I blacked out.  I woke up naked in my bed, and she laughed, saying, “I got you so drunk last night.”  She raped me and laughed about it.

Both of these events happened over ten years ago.  I refused to acknowledge what happened, and dismissed it as my fault for being so drunk, but for two years after they occurred, I could not be physical with anyone. I felt so much shame and guilt over what happened to me.  I felt like it was my fault, like I somehow brought on their behavior.

It took me ten years, but I am finally able to talk about this and admit that what happened to me was sexual assault, and that it was not my fault.  Ten years of blaming myself and never wanting to talk or think about those two people.  Honestly, I still don’t want to.  It is incredibly painful to think about what happened.  Sure, I should not have allowed myself to get that drunk.  I definitely have not since.  But both people knew (and laughed about) the fact that I was clearly not able to make any decisions.  They both acted deliberately to rape me. In the weeks since I started fully acknowledging what happened to me, I have spent so many days unable to get out of bed or communicate with the world because of how traumatic reliving those experiences has been.  I have felt so helpless, worthless, ashamed, and alone.

I am talking about this now because I know I am not alone.  Talk to anyone in our industry, and they know someone who has been sexually assaulted, most times by a colleague. This often happens at gatherings of bartenders, but not always.  No one talks about this, even though we all know it happens.  It is a sickening part of our industry that has apparently become part of the culture.  We brush it off thinking it was just some drunken hookup we do not remember and never want to think about again, because thinking about it is immensely painful.  Being a victim is so unbelievably unbearable, and, unfortunately, it is incredibly difficult to fully acknowledge what happened and to not blame yourself, let alone make that information public.

THIS IS NOT OKAY.

Sexual assault occurs in our industry, by people in our industry, at an alarming rate, yet we somehow brush it aside as simply something that happens.  It is infinitely harder to discuss being assaulted because we worry about how we will be perceived, how it will affect the colleague that did this to us, and what the professional ramifications may be if we talk about being assaulted by someone in our small community.

We are a family that is supposed to look out for each other, not allow our family members to be hurt and ignore it because the person who hurt them is also family.

We are a family that has given me the courage to talk about terrible things that happened to me.

We are a family that has shown me nothing but support and love after talking to them.

We are a family that does not want to see this happen to anyone ever again.

Acknowledging being sexually assaulted is one of the hardest things to do.  Talking about it is even more difficult.  But, the more we have the courage to address what happened to us, and to call out those who harmed us, the more we can help each other create a healthier family.

It is not our fault.  We need to acknowledge what happened to us, as painful as it is to do so.  It is too easy to feel ashamed and repress these experiences.  We need to talk about this.  Consent is consent, and anything else is sexual assault.  We have all been far too complicit in allowing this to continue to happen, and once we admit that, hopefully we can strive to make our community a safe place for everyone.

A few months later, back in LA, I was at a bar when I saw him again. He did not recognize me. He did not know me. We were “introduced” to each other. He was much more sober this time and said that it was nice to meet me. I just looked at him and asked him if he did not remember me. He did not. So, I reminded him that he “mouth raped” me. He was horrified (as he should be). I told him that it wasn’t funny. He just cowered a bit and apologized and we went about our business. I would see him from time to time and the first few times, he was awkward around me and would apologize. Eventually it was not awkward to run into each other.

Thankfully it never happened again. But the term alone (mouth rape) disgusts me. Just coming up with that idea is wrong and disrespectful, let alone doing it, which is assault. Sadly, what I have learned over the last few months is that many people do not know the different between misogyny and assault. Too many women across the country have written assault off as “boys talk” or “locker room talk”. It is neither. Sexual assault is wrong and crosses lines that should never be crossed. We need to make sure words and phrases are not used. When one person thinks they are being funny, we need to tell them if their words are hurtful or offensive. We do not need to apologize to them. They need to own their behavior.

Being a professional woman, we learn to be strong and independent. We are told to just move past things. The fact that people have been coming forward lately with their experiences has made me sad but also inspired. I think in a way, it has made us all a little stronger in standing up for ourselves and those around us. For too long, we have excused, rationalized and ignored behavior that should not go unchecked. It has been easier to “forget” about it, not to make a deal about it, not to cause a scene about it. But, every time we do that, we are enabling others to continue with their inappropriate behavior. It is time to stop them; to hold people accountable for their behavior, whether they were sober or drunk when they did it.

#NotGuilty #StrongerTogether #NoIsNo #RespectEachOther #RepectYourself

The first time he assaulted me, I was sitting on the patio of a crowded bar having a cigarette when he sat down next to me and told me that he wanted to fuck me. Point blank. He went on to put his hand right between my thighs and tried to put his fingers inside me and kept telling me how great I feel and how amazing it would be. I am more than a foot shorter and over 100 pounds lighter than him, I could barely move his hands away.  There were so many people around us, I just wanted him to shut up and found an excuse to get up and go back inside. I didn’t make a big deal.

The next day, he called me late at night panting and breathing heavily through the phone. He was touching himself and tried to have phone sex with me before I quickly hung up the phone. He called back twice before he gave up.

Over a year later, I was out at a bar with many of our mutual friends. I made the mistake of agreeing to give him a ride home because I remembered that he lived less than a mile from me. I didn’t realized that he had moved, and the trip would be much longer. He was so drunk and could barely tell me where to go. He wouldn’t tell me his address and told me that he’d just direct me. He said the same sexual things to me he had said before. I ignored it and kept changing the subject. He rubbed my thighs and tried to put his hands down my pants. We drove up towards his house, he told me to turn my headlights off as we pulled up. The car barely rolled to a stop before he jumped out and ran up the driveway to his house.

I sat in the car for a few minutes after he got in the door and thought, ” I just sent this man into his home to his wife and kids after what he had just done to me.” I hated myself for not honking the horn to wake his family up and tell them what happened. I drove home sobbing and laid next to my then-boyfriend unable to say anything. I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t tell him.

The last time I ever let myself be alone with this man, he followed me out to the back lot of my bar while I had a cigarette. He pushed be up against a wall and held me by my throat. He thought it was sexy. I was terrified. I squirmed out of it and ran back inside. I had enough. This was not happening to me anymore.

The point of post is not to recount the horrific incidents that happened to me, but to bring light to the fact that I felt it would have been detrimental to my career to out this man publicly, or even call him out on it one-on-one for these incidents. I hoped that by going with the motions it would just go away. This man manipulated my friends and I into thinking he could do whatever he wanted because he was too important to have this come back to bite him. I worked shifts next to him and felt sick. I wondered how many other women I was allowing to be hurt by staying quiet.

I will never be quiet again. It’s time to stop ignoring this issue. Being “too drunk” is not an excuse to hurt the women in our community or anyone else. Ever. I’m tired of seeing men being praised for their dedication to our industry when what they do in the shadows is public knowledge.

Never again.