All my life, women have felt they could intimidate me and hurt me. Why? To make themselves feel better? Because I deserve pain and humiliation? Every instance of significant harassment and assault was at the hands of a woman.
When I was 13, the girlfriends I had cherished turned on me and abandoned me. They taunted me and told others not to be friends with me, because I wasn’t worth it. I was stupid, retarded, ugly, and I’d never have a boyfriend. No boy could or would ever want me.
When I was 24, an ex-boyfriend’s ex-girlfriend pretended to be my friend, pretended to want to get to know me, only to get me drunk and sexually use me to get back at our ex-boyfriend.
When I was 32, a Mexican woman (who had moved to America from Mexico) said that she didn’t like the way I looked and that I didn’t belong in her neighbourhood, and she struck me. I called the police to report the assault, and she lied to them, saying I hit her first, so I was unable to press charges.
I hope my stories are worthy of being shared. I hope they fit into the narrative here. I hope I, too, am brave.
— Survivor, age 35