If you throw out all the simply uncomfortable situations I’ve experienced (like being forcibly kissed when I didn’t want to be kissed at all), I have been sexually assaulted four times. Once as a child, once by way of date rape in college, once by a very powerful boss and once by a stranger after being drugged in a casino. One woman. Four sexual assaults. This would be tragic if I weren’t a part of such massive sorority in this regard. And I’m here to tell you, it is my “sisters” and I that will fight the hardest in this revolution. I’ll explain.
In order to make my point, I want to throw out the first assault and the last assault … as if we’re playing some sick game of averages. One was committed by a young teenager who was likely abused himself. The other perpetrator was a stranger. So, I can’t speak to who they are as men. But I can talk about the other two because I knew them both well.
And I can tell you, unequivocally, the two men who committed those crimes have something in common: they are Donald Trump. [Not literally, of course. I feel quite blessed to be able to say I’ve never met the real Donald Trump.]
What I mean is, they were both white, privileged, powerful men. And, like Donald Trump, when they saw something they wanted, they took it. Like Donald Trump, they bragged about it later. And, like Donald, they got away with it.
Why did I let them get away with it? Simple: I was worried that their crimes would ruin my reputation. The guy in college was college-powerful. He was older than me, a phenomenal athlete and, as someone I had grown up with, was well-liked and respected in our home community. Accusing him of something like rape would have destroyed me. Interesting, right? It would have destroyed me, not him. That was my belief at the time. In many ways, it still is.
And as for my boss well, reporting him would have meant career suicide. I had just left the comfort of the plush, well respected firm I began my career with with out of law school to take a chance on his small, powerhouse litigation firm. He was well-known and well-respected in our rich, lily-white, highly conservative suburb of Los Angeles. I didn’t dare speak up. I stayed and I stayed quiet. I even traveled with him frequently. For what seemed like eternity, I endured his unyielding advances, his drunken calls to my hotel room in the middle of the night and his endless bravado and dick-wagging whenever I was near other males. I endured and endured until four years later I quit in a fit of rage. Everyone wondered why I was such a bitch on my way out. Still, I didn’t say anything.
But today, I am.
Today, I stand with my sisters in saying we know you, Donald Trump. Guys like you don’t engage in isolated bouts of “locker room talk.” Guys like you have money and wealth and power and you treat all that like a golden ticket to “grab our pussies.”
I have now spent the better half of my life watching guys like you prey on women like me. I’ve shut up and let you succeed. I’ve seen you ruin relationships and families. I’ve seen you brag about your conquests and laugh about our tears. I’ve seen you fondle yourselves in meetings and stare us down with the power of knowing we won’t say a word. I’ve seen you pay my male colleagues far more than you paid me for the same work. You have objectified, belittled and ridiculed us for far too long. Enough is enough!
I’m guessing that the vast majority of women who are having the same vitriolic reaction to Donald Trump that I’m having, are having it for the same reason. It is time for us to stand up and stop staying quiet! The time is NOW to prevent this from becoming our new normal. For the sake of our daughters and granddaughters and nieces and all little girls everywhere, it is time to put a stop to this!
Please join me in doing everything you can to stop this habitual sex offender from leading our nation. Stop him from becoming a hero to even one little boy. Let’s fight and fight and fight harder until he leaves the oval office with his dick between his legs.
Call your Senators, your Representatives. Speak up. Tell people what happened to you and how it affected your life. March on Washington, if you can. If you can’t, march locally. Peacefully protest. Assemble, congregate, shout, scream. Do whatever you need to do to stop America’s offender-elect from becoming our next president.
I’ll see you on January 21, Donald. I dare you to grab my pussy …
Copyright 2016, Jennifer Anderson, All rights reserved.