When I was about 10 years old, a friend’s grandfather tried to French kiss me. I remember his gums and gaping mouth coming towards me, as he gingerly put his arm around my shoulders and tried to pull me close. The old guy had invited me into his house knowing full well that my friend (his granddaughter) wasn’t there. He had intentions.
Fortunately, I was a fiesty thing. I broke away from him before he could ensue damage on my young body, and ran all the way home. I did not see him again and I didn’t tell anyone. And, the funny thing is that despite the gross memory, I feel like I’m one of the lucky ones. I mean, my story could have ended differently. I was fortunate enough to not have another man’s unwanted hands on my body.
But after the recent surge in femicide awareness, I realise that I still feel like a victim of abuse, to an extent. I mean, abuse is a strong word to use, but I don’t know how else to express the feeling.
And honestly, my feelings of abuse has nothing to do with the old man.
My feelings of abuse is tied to every single guy who has crossed my path and objectified me simply because he saw a body and wanted to get his piece of it.
Let’s call this guy a “he” and let’s say he is a decent, respectable young man who would never try to harm a girl.
My question to “him” is: what does femicide look like to you, Sir?
I mean, sure “he” didn’t rape me. But he has made advances on me solely with the intention of wanting to have sex with me, whether I gave him the impression that I wanted to or not.
Sure, he didn’t physically assault me, but when he went back to his friends to talk about what a tease I am and how I look in “those jeans”, he kinda assaulted my dignity.
Sure, he didn’t end my life, but when he pretended to be someone else until he could “get one thing” and then dumped me for another girl, he kinda made me feel like the person that is Luchae, doesn’t matter.
He didn’t touch my body, but the crude way in which he spoke about it to his gang kinda undressed me already, whether I liked it or not.
For far too long, men have been treating the female body like a commodity. Some of them know how to sweet talk us into believing that they have our best interest at heart, go behind our backs and do the same thing to 3 other girls, and then they wonder why we call them trash.
What I’m saying is: sure give yourself a hand clap for not being a rapist or a murderer. Well done.
But if you’ve ever objectified the female body, disrespected a girl by discussing her anatomy, devalued a woman’s worth by dating and dumping for a better model because you can’t be satisfied or hey, maybe all you did was enjoy the new Bruno Mars video… you know, the one with the bare butts, dancing along to the music. Well then, Sir, you are part of the problem.
Take that as you will.