This post goes into detail of an instance of non-rape sexual assault in the first paragraph.
In high school, one semester, a girl in gym class kept stroking my legs – well above my shins. She sat in the bleachers below me. I told her to stop, several times: it was uncomfortable and I hated and still hate being touched. She cooed at me and mocked my discomfort. I told the gym teacher, and he talked to her, but it didn’t stop. I resorted to lashing out with my legs in the general direction of her face. Finally, I started skipping gym class often that semester.
I didn’t realize it was sexual assault with the probable intent to do worse until this year. So I never told anyone else at the time, though I don’t know if that would have helped anyway. I thought sexual assault only happened how it did on Law and Order: SVU, which I had caught episodes of in passing. No one ever told me otherwise. Adults in my life told me to carry pepper spray and not walk alone in the dark. They never told me to think about people I was at least vaguely acquaintances with. They never told me what to do if it happened.
It seems that people, particularly autistic people like myself, rarely get taught about boundaries or consent: indeed, disabled people are often not even taught sex-ed or how to recognize abuse. To complicate matters, many autistic people have been through Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA). Its methods violate children’s boundaries and bodily control, and leaves them vulnerable to more abuse in the future.
There is also a general perception around sexual assaults that say they’re not “bad enough” or don’t “count,” from all kinds of people. As if it is easy to judge what it is and isn’t sexual assault when you are not the person who was assaulted. It happens to people who have been raped, groped, touched, and/or assaulted in any way. For people who have been groped/touched, it’s that it wasn’t rape, and for people who have been raped, it often is still not seen as a rape. Very few assaults “count.” For disabled people in particular, some reasons include: “you should be grateful someone wanted to do it to you,” and in the case of some disability types, “the person didn’t understand or care it was happening, so it’s not a big deal.”
When people decide they can say what counts as “enough…” That’s not helping anyone be taken seriously when they report/tell people about sex crimes and assaults. Numerous groups of people already have trouble reporting or being believed about assaults. For instance, many disabled people receive direct support from service providers or family members. When these people assault them, it is harder to leave or report assaults. And it helps perpetrators get away assault and makes it more socially acceptable because it’s not “bad enough.”
People who have been assaulted are told it’s not “bad enough” and they should not have too many feelings, or that they don’t have enough feelings so it’s not “bad enough.” And of course, the perpetrators’ feelings are taken more heavily into account. As Rabbi Ruti Regan notes in this piece, “Victims are pressured to disregard their own feelings in order to help perpetrators feel better about themselves.”
If you are: Stop saying we should suck up our feelings because it’s not “bad enough” and it doesn’t “count” and “they have to live with it too” and …
Stop saying it’s not “bad enough.”
It is important to note that Me Too appears to have been started some time before now by a Black woman, Tarana Burke, when credit is going elsewhere.