Midwest Teen Sex Show

2 Response to “Midwest Teen Sex Live 11”

1. 1 couchpixie
   04.24.2009 at 3:27 pm

   I guess that the school could have been named after Mt. Hood, also in the area, but that doesn’t really improve things… I can only hope that the reports you guys were referencing were distorted…

   I went through a situation in high school where I was sexually harassed by a classmate and while I told friends about it and gave my parents a sketchy sort of outline of what was going on (I wasn’t comfortable telling them, for example, that he sometimes appeared to be fondling himself through his pockets while looking at me during class–and I was not alone in noticing this), but the thing was, it was mostly comments that were all so squishy and vague. The things he said were not necessarily that icky or suggestive (had they been said in a slightly different tone by good friends, they would have been fine), so I never felt I had a good case against him, though he made me really, really uncomfortable. It was more the cumulative effect, something in the way he said them, the sort of possessiveness he seemed to have about my body. If he’d been more explicit or sassy or mean about it, it would have been a lot easier to confront him, either directly or through authorities. I remember waiting for the moment that he had the least bit of physical contact with me, and then I was going to bash his fucking head in with a lab stool, but he never crossed that line. During my first two years of high school I typically had five out of my six classes with him and our last names were both in the same part of the alphabet, so any class where we were seated by name meant we were seated by each other and any class that had unassigned seating he’d try to sit by me. My friends did their best to surround me and protect me and my parents tried to comfort and advise me (of course, they didn’t know the extent of it). I thought about going to the school counselor on numerous occasions because we were urged not to tolerate sexual harassment, but I never felt I had enough proof. And while he was disliked and considered creepy by most of the students, I did have a bit of fear about being perceived as overly sensitive or not being able to get a joke (this school of thought abounds–you’ll see it readily enough any time sexual harassment charges are brought against anyone in the news) and also I knew he’d deny it and would protest that his intentions had been merely expressions of most innocent admiration, and I’d still have five or six classes with him every day.

   It wasn’t until after I left high school and saw the Clothesline Project at my college that I really was able to fully see how much he fucked me up, how uncomfortable it made me to be looked at sexually (and in college, of course, EVERYONE is looking at everyone else with sex in mind, and I was considered the hot new thing on campus until I stopped leaving my room and shaved my head and tried to make myself look asexual as possible), that while I hadn’t experienced the horrors of physical sexual trauma, I had still been wounded and that’s when I really got mad. I’m really sorry that I never even tried to get him trouble, that I never at least told some of my teachers who I’m sure would have been more than happy to at seat us on opposite sides of the classroom and never assign us to the same group. My parents, too, now that I’ve told them more about the full extent of the harassment, are sorry that they didn’t pursue the matter, either. We all just hoped it would go away, and while eventually it did, it was at tremendous cost to me.

   More than ten years later, I am now comfortable with being looked at and have been able to embrace being sexy without feeling like I’m being watched by perverts, but there were some really hard years in there where I felt so damaged. And all this because of how a classmate looked at me and how he said some things that weren’t even explicitly sexual in nature, but just weren’t quite right, either, in a way that I could never put my finger. I think it’s important to mention this because what I experienced was the mildest sort of sexual abuse possible, but it was still awful and demeaning and it inflicted lasting damage. I didn’t have the courage to stick up for myself at the time, but I hope others might. It’s scary to imagine not being backed by the administration, but you shouldn’t have to live with that kind of dread and queasiness. If you’re still in school, at least tell the teachers who are closest to you and who would have some power to protect you.

   The thing is, there’s lots of this kind of stuff out there, most of it directed at women, and while it would be exhausting to pursue every single dickhead who leered and whistled, ongoing shit like this should not be tolerated. A few years back, I was touched inappropriately and I called foul right then and there and talked through it out in the open. I think it really minimized the potential trauma of the situation and I hope I can keep yelling from here on out.

   And a note to the guy who made my life so miserable in high school: if you ever see me again and say so much as a WORD to me, I’m going to do everything I can to smash your fucking face. You’re not going to get away with that with ME ever again.

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