Written to be performed at a show with a theme of "CONSENT". I was hesitant to share but the fact that I had more rights four decades ago than young women do today leaves me speechless.
Like every woman who has ever experienced the possible threat or the horrible act (and there are so few of us who haven't) I am furious for you, proud of you, and resolved to continue the fight. How dare they? How DARE they?!
Thank you for sharing this difficult story. You are beautiful and fierce and strong and smart. Then and now. Indeed, it is crazy and absurd that our rights have receded. Wtf
I feel like I’ve commented this on all of your pieces, but I have a feeling I’ll keep saying it — I’m totally and completely in awe of you! Your bravery, your honesty, your verve! 🫂🤍
I’m so sorry to know you’re part of this shitty, shitty club, Eileen. 16-year-old me sends a big hug and a lot of love to 15-year-old you. And thank you for this beautiful, brave, enraging piece. It makes me sick to think of how many of us thought we brought these things on ourselves, but I’m so grateful we’re finding each other now, when we understand nothing could be less true 🤍
This shitty club has the best members….people who respond with kindness and understanding. People who have had enough of kicking themselves over mistakes. I love that this little corner of the world gives me hope that we drown out the “but what was she wearing?” crowd for the next generation….
I loved this truly relatable part - “When we slipped out into the night, we had an unspoken agreement to keep everything that happened a secret. A pact that equaled consent to it all, for better or for worse.”
Why did we want to grow up so fast? I often think about the messages we received coming off the summer of love into the 80s twisted into so many layers of consent. Oh the need to be liked and have the romance of sex…ugh.
I’m part of this club who did not consent when I was 22 and I still remember his name and town he was from. What a douchebag.
I'm sorry to hear you can relate to this first hand, Shelley. And the brain really does hold on to the details with a death grip. I can barely remember my own name most days but if I think about Crystal, I can still see her face and smell her perfume.
I read this and then sat on it because I wanted to say something, well, something. But honestly it's just ugh. I mean my God, I don't even know another woman who doesn't have one of these stories in their past. At least one, usually several. Buried in the closet of shame and regret and fury and forgetaboutit. This piece reminded me not only of the milder ones I have stashed up on the high shelf way in back, but the big brutal ones that possibly, probably shaped my entire life. 30 years isn't enough rear view time to want to open that box. You are braver than I am.
Like every woman who has ever experienced the possible threat or the horrible act (and there are so few of us who haven't) I am furious for you, proud of you, and resolved to continue the fight. How dare they? How DARE they?!
Thank you for sharing this difficult story. You are beautiful and fierce and strong and smart. Then and now. Indeed, it is crazy and absurd that our rights have receded. Wtf
I feel like I’ve commented this on all of your pieces, but I have a feeling I’ll keep saying it — I’m totally and completely in awe of you! Your bravery, your honesty, your verve! 🫂🤍
Thank you for sharing this story. You are not alone as I know you know. This BS has to end.
I’m so sorry to know you’re part of this shitty, shitty club, Eileen. 16-year-old me sends a big hug and a lot of love to 15-year-old you. And thank you for this beautiful, brave, enraging piece. It makes me sick to think of how many of us thought we brought these things on ourselves, but I’m so grateful we’re finding each other now, when we understand nothing could be less true 🤍
This shitty club has the best members….people who respond with kindness and understanding. People who have had enough of kicking themselves over mistakes. I love that this little corner of the world gives me hope that we drown out the “but what was she wearing?” crowd for the next generation….
I hope that, too, Eileen. Pretty sure this is the way 🔥
I loved this truly relatable part - “When we slipped out into the night, we had an unspoken agreement to keep everything that happened a secret. A pact that equaled consent to it all, for better or for worse.”
Why did we want to grow up so fast? I often think about the messages we received coming off the summer of love into the 80s twisted into so many layers of consent. Oh the need to be liked and have the romance of sex…ugh.
I’m part of this club who did not consent when I was 22 and I still remember his name and town he was from. What a douchebag.
I'm sorry to hear you can relate to this first hand, Shelley. And the brain really does hold on to the details with a death grip. I can barely remember my own name most days but if I think about Crystal, I can still see her face and smell her perfume.
I read this and then sat on it because I wanted to say something, well, something. But honestly it's just ugh. I mean my God, I don't even know another woman who doesn't have one of these stories in their past. At least one, usually several. Buried in the closet of shame and regret and fury and forgetaboutit. This piece reminded me not only of the milder ones I have stashed up on the high shelf way in back, but the big brutal ones that possibly, probably shaped my entire life. 30 years isn't enough rear view time to want to open that box. You are braver than I am.