Tag Archives: #MeToo

Stalked by an Ex

I should have known. Top had never taken “no” for an answer before. I should have known that he would treat the breakup as a challenge rather than a fact. How? My therapist Sarah demanded, almost ten years later, when I told her this part of the story. I blinked at her. How could you haveContinue reading “Stalked by an Ex”

The Breakup

As my love of Thailand grew, so did the glaring evidence of the problems in my relationship. I often woke in the morning to find Top already gone, leaving me to go sightseeing with his brother Bop. When Top did bring me along, everyone told him in Thai how beautiful I was, and he glowed.Continue reading “The Breakup”

The Return

A sea-change had come over my parents’ house. The walls were still the same ice-blue. The kitchen where my father had assaulted me still had its polished parquet floor and the same Formica countertops. But once, there had been alliances. Once, my brother and I had commiserated in our rooms long into the night, plottingContinue reading “The Return”

The Decision

There are so many ways that society monitors and controls women’s bodies. PiMam’s family had determined how she could and could not use her body in relationships. Now, economic necessity was undoing my own bid for freedom. Every morning I woke to the sound of the kitchen hood rumbling to life. My mugs rattled onContinue reading “The Decision”

And Then, Poverty

In 2016, one out of eight women age 18 and older lived in poverty. Currently, millions of women in the United States live below the poverty line, and nearly 50% of women on government aid give domestic violence as a reason they require financial assistance. In 2002, I was just another statistic. Another woman tryingContinue reading “And Then, Poverty”

After a Father Sexually Assaults His Daughter

The next thing I remember is shaking out black garbage bags. I bagged up the clothes from my closet, taking armfuls of sweaters and blouses and skirts with the hangers still attached. I wadded up my sheets and pillows. I stuffed everything into the bags and knotted them closed. I don’t know if this wasContinue reading “After a Father Sexually Assaults His Daughter”

The Sixth Assault

The summer I am 21 years old, I stand in my parents’ kitchen with the lights down. My mother is running errands. My brother is out with friends. I envy him. Our parents never give him the shakedown when he gets home. They never tell him he was gone too long. They never tell himContinue reading “The Sixth Assault”

Aquaphobia in the Aftermath

The British and Americans have been drowning women for centuries. Officially, the method for this punishment was the ducking stool, and one of its first documented uses was in 1597. The ducking stool was a medieval apparatus derived from the older cucking stool, a means akin to stocks, used to publicly humiliate women who defiedContinue reading “Aquaphobia in the Aftermath”

Aftermath at 20

I was not someone who got sexually assaulted, so I had not been assaulted. Simple as that. We all do this to some degree, usually with much lower stakes: I’m a smart person, so that book I love must be a real masterpiece. My child is an angel, so that teacher must have seen things wrong. Continue reading “Aftermath at 20”

The Fourth Assault

I really believed the worst of it was behind me. I would graduate from college in less than two years, and I would leave my parents’ house, and I would be safe. I thought I could tell who was an abuser and who wasn’t. I knew I could tell the difference. I had to believeContinue reading “The Fourth Assault”