Frozen
I could never forget this feeling. The hotness that slowly crept in my throat, my blurred and shaking vision, my trembling lips that I couldn’t control, and my hands that have involuntarily turned into fists. My chest felt like it was about to burst, but instead only silent screaming that came out while I repeatedly mouthed “I can’t do this, I want to die”
Those feelings have come and go as they pleased, barging in unannounced and uninvited. It first came when I was in 6th grade, when the supposedly safe shelter of a classroom had betrayed me as my legs and thighs were caressed by my seat mate. Time froze, as the whiteboard and its surrounding slowly turned into mush inside my head. And I froze.
It came again when I was in 11th grade, when i was betrayed for the second time by the shelter of my own classroom, betrayed by the apathetic gaze of my friends as my chest and thighs were violated. Feeling disgusted by my own body was not enough when it first happened, because it happened again the second time. The third time. The fourth time. And so on and so forth for at least a year. And I froze, again.
It came again when I was in college, betrayed by the so-called “safe and healthy” working environment during my internship period. A simple shoulder grab worked its way down my back, and eventually my thighs and calves. Then, I was tossed to the rest of the pack who were not better than the previous, equipped with their “come sit on my lap”, “your pretty face doesn’t belong here, let me accompany you”, and “i like thick girls like you” comments and distasteful chuckles. I turned around and the other girls also nodded in unison, signalling that they have been through what I just experienced, while the guys can only calm us down by saying “you’re strong, suck it up”, even going as far as escorting us when we have to deal with the managers so that we will be safe with them. But nothing was done by THEM. And as I had to endure another sleepless night shift in HIS office, as I stepped my feet into the office and saw HIM pulling the chair next to him and patted it signalling that I should sit there, and as HE pulled the already-close chair that i sat in even closer so he can lean into me, I froze again.
It came yet again, just like a stubborn child, just a couple weeks ago, when I was walking home from a night out with my friends when a disgusting, creepy man cat called me. “Hey pretty face, where are you going?” He circled me with his mottorcycle, trapping me in the sidewalk. I looked around, nobody was there. I looked at my clothings, I was covered from top to bottom. Confused and startled, I froze again, and I swore this is going to be the last time.
I kept on replaying these events in my head, contemplating how cruel this world is towards me, towards us. How I have been degraded and manipulated into thinking that I was the problem, that it all happened because of me. Because my dress was too tight (despite wearing hijab), or that my makeup was too much, or my PERFECTLY NORMAL BODY TEMPTS PREDATORY MEN, or literally any other trashy reasons that just become excuses to blame me - us - even more instead of challenging the real problems. It made me sick to the stomach and want to physically send whoever has dared to say that to my face to hell.
So I present to you this piece of writing that I have kept the longest. I was reluctant to publicize my stories before, afraid of the criticisms that I will get. But seeing how more cases of sexual violence against women have come up recently, I cannot stay quiet. So here is my stories. My call for help. A token of solidarity for my fellow sisters. We are no longer safe anywhere. Not in the streets, school, office, night club, or our own homes. We cannot rely on other people for our safety anymore. So for my last ultimatum, I will say that we, women, need to protect ourselves and our sisters, and you men have to control your dicks and put them where they belong.