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This Powerful True Story About Self-Protection Could Save Your Life

Originally published on February 26, 2019. Revised on January 3, 2019

Numerous reports show that out of every 4 women at least one of those women is raped. Another article I recently read on The Guardian quotes a global study that claims “1 in every 3 women suffers [from] violence.”

The scariest part is that most violent attacks are never reported.

Now take a moment to think about that. Imagine yourself with 3 women you care about. Or look around you, wherever you may be and pick 4 women in the room. Including yourself. If this report holds true then that means at least one of you, out of the four has been (or will be) raped or violently attacked.

Keep reading to see how you can prevent that one of four from being you or someone you love.

The Resurgence of the “Me Too” Movement

Allegations against Harvey Weinstein of sexual assault and rape triggered the resurgence of the “Me too” movement. A movement that had been quiet for too long. Victims of abuse began speaking up against sexual assault, rape, and sex trafficking. Bringing forth allegations and the arrests of men like Weinstein and Jeffrey Epstein. 

Women from all walks of life began sharing their true stories of sexual manipulation and attacks. Horrid stories of sexual harassment, abuse, and rape. Teaming together with a public outcry. Demanding justice for crimes already committed and awareness to help women stay safe.

Harvey Weinstein is expected to go to trial next month in New York City where he faces criminal charges. Stemming from allegations of rape and sexual assault. We can only hope that if he did commit these crimes that he will be found guilty. 

You don’t have to be a famous actress to share your story.

Your perpetrator doesn’t need to be a Hollywood mogul or Billionaire for your personal experience to matter. Even ordinary folks like me have valuable lessons to share. This is why I am sharing some real-life experiences I have had with sexual abuse, stalking, and harassment.

What you are about to read is a true story about a “Me too” experience that has haunted me for years. It’s about a young girl who was repeatedly pinned down against her will. Fighting with all her might to defend herself against her attacker and how she finally found a way to stop him from hurting her again.

If you haven’t guessed by now, that young girl was me.

It’s a relief to finally be able to share our stories. Not just share them with the hope that justice will be served. But that action will be taken against perpetrators and rapists. Justice with serious consequences for acts of abuse and inappropriate behavior.

Instead of us sharing our stories secretively, with nothing more than a silent nod of “me too” between us. Something we as women have become accustomed to. Sharing our stories with fellow victims with nothing more than a mere consoling look that says, “Yes, that’s happened to me too.”

Which is why I’ve decided not to say “Me too.” Instead, I choose to use a more proactive and preventative approach. That is why I say “Not me.”

Because regardless of how horrible a past experience was, you still get to choose how you allow it to affect your life. You can choose to protect yourself from it ever happening again. You can protect your family and you can protect your own life. 

One of the best ways to prevent yourself and your family from harm is to be prepared. To be educated, conscious and always aware of your surroundings. Talk openly with your children about the dangers of predators. Teach them about safety and taking precautionary measures.

Speak openly with your children and encourage them to come to you if they feel threatened or are harmed in any way.

Shortly after the allegations against Harvey Weinstein took the media by storm, I read an article about a 9 year old boy who “touched a little girl inappropriately” at school. They were playing soccer when the boy apparently bumped into the girl. Touching her in a way that made her feel uncomfortable. 

The girl told her mom and she immediately called the school principal after hearing what happened. Fortunately, after investigating the incident it was determined that his touching the young girl was an accident. Which happens obviously. But had it been disregarded or downplayed the girl might be afraid to bring up future incidents. Situations that might not be accidental.

Misconduct that occurs every day. 

After years of girls reporting more serious offenses (with no consequences or justice), it’s easy to lose hope.  Fear, humiliation and the fear of being judged or disgraced has kept too many girls silent.

Young girls have been kept silenced for far too long. 

When I was growing up, we didn’t have that luxury. Kiss chase was a normal game that the kids played in the neighborhood and no one ever tried to stop it.

I was blessed to have small breasts (or cursed depending on how you look at it). I didn’t mature physically until well into my teens. Unlike some girls, I knew who developed at an early age. Luckily for me, most of the boys preferred chasing the girls with bigger boobs. 

The boys would catch the girls. Then pin them down and try to fondle them while attempting to steal kisses. Without consent. 

One sunny summer day a young girl I knew (name withheld for confidentiality) was pinned down and the boy would not let her go. We had to rally against him to get him off of her. 

Frightened and humiliated, she immediately wanted to go home. Her face was flushed with bright red cheeks as we walked her all the way home. She was fighting back tears the whole time refusing to speak about it. 

She stayed inside the rest of the day instead of being out enjoying the sunshine.

As for the boy? Nothing ever came of it. 

Even with my small breasts, I did not come out of my lower-class east side neighborhood unscathed. My skinny little stick-figure body and geeky glasses weren’t enough to deter the boys. 

There were two boys who lived across the street from me. Tommy and Rodney were stepbrothers and hung out like best friends. Just like my sister Natalie and I often did.

The brothers used to chase Natalie and me playing the same game. I would run as fast as I could to avoid getting caught.

Until one day, it happened. A boy caught me and pinned me down.

It was Tommy who caught me. I was kicking and screaming, trying to get him off of me. So he wouldn’t kiss me. I can still feel the blood rushing to my head as my cheeks became flushed with the humiliation. It was a horrible feeling being pinned down. Not being able to stop him.

I did NOT want him touching me or kissing me. 

After that, I learned how to run. Fast. Really fast. I’ve been a runner ever since and often jokingly attribute my love of running to these boys. The ones who chased me. But in reality, it’s the truth. As it turns out learning to run fast was a good thing.

Because the torture did not stop there. Not even close. 

Later when I was in 6th grade there was a boy who sat right behind me in class. My elementary school ran kindergarten through 6th grade so there was no class change. This means I sat in the same classroom (where I was stuck most of the day} with this boy sitting behind me.

I’ll call this boy, “The Stalker” so as not to reveal his identity. Not that I particularly care about revealing his identity for his privacy. It’s my privacy that concerns me.

Since stalkers have been known to reappear.

The story you are about to read is a true story. Every single word of it. So even though it may sound more like a fairy tale or a made for TV movie (with a real-life hero and a villainous creep) I kid you not.

The Stalker was a big kid. He must have failed a couple of grades because he was older than most of the other kids in my class. And much, much bigger. He had freckles all over his face and yellow crooked teeth. He had poor posture and walked kind of hunched over. Like one of the main characters from the movie “The Hunchback from Notre-Dame.”

The worst part was that I couldn’t stand this kid because of how he treated me.

One day, the Stalker kid started playing with my hair in class. My hair was really long (reaching halfway down my back) so it was easy for him to reach over his desk and touch it. I repeatedly raised my hand to tell the teacher. Pleading with her to make him stop. She basically did nothing.

Then the kid would get angry with me for telling on him. Making the situation a bit frightening. But I wanted him to stop.

Afterward, he would smile at me and hiss, “You know you like it.”

I would kind of laugh nervously. Apparently giving him unintentional mixed signals. And yes, I was a little bit flattered. Of course. Who doesn’t want to be liked?

I was the geeky smart kid. A stick figure with no shape and usually wearing glasses with tape wrapped around one of the arms. Probably from getting tackled by boys. Or getting hit in the head while playing dodge ball in gym class. 

I assure you though, that not only did I want it to stop but I began to hate this kid.

One day he started chasing me home after school. I ran so fast he never caught me. Not even once.

He would stand in the alleyway that led up to the back of my house. Gasping for air like he was out of breath. Defeated. Sometimes I even walked past my house just so he didn’t see which house I went into. Because I did NOT want him to know where I lived.

How to Stop Sexual Harassment

I was relieved when the school year ended so I didn’t have to see him anymore. Then, that summer, he started riding his bike around my neighborhood looking for me. One day, I was sitting in the schoolyard with my older brother and a couple of other kids. I saw the Stalker riding his bike towards me. I told my brother what was going on and pleaded with him to talk to the kid.

My brother was not happy about it. At first, I couldn’t understand why. Why on earth wouldn’t my big brother jump up to defend me? Soon I realized why.  

My brother stood up and boldly walked over to the kid. As I watched them talking, I suddenly realized that the kid was much bigger than my brother. Not just a little bit bigger. A LOT bigger. This kid could have easily pummeled my brother.

At that moment my respect for my big brother grew. But the best part? It worked. I didn’t see the kid again the whole rest of the summer. Not until 7th grade started. That’s when things took a turn for the worse…

Of all the classes he could have been assigned to he was in my homeroom. So I had to see him first thing every morning.

The harassment began again almost immediately and he was constantly trying to get my attention.

Now that we were in middle school we changed classes throughout the day. Which meant we would go to our lockers in between classes to grab books and stuff.

Making me an easy target. 

Some days he would physically pin me against my locker and try to kiss me. I would scream at the top of my lungs as he held my wrists so I couldn’t get away from him. Apparently, no one could hear me over all the sounds of slamming lockers and junior high kids gossiping. The noise muting my screams.  

Or maybe the other kids just didn’t want to get involved.

Then one day out of nowhere and to my complete surprise, an Angel came to my rescue. There was a new kid in school. He was tall, big and strong.

Plus he was cute so all the girls had a crush on him. I’ll call this boy, “The Hero” because that is exactly what he was.

The new kid and I began hanging out. Walking to class and sitting on the bus together. One day, we were on the bus heading home after school. I told my new friend what the Stalker kid had been doing and how that morning he stole my pen during homeroom.

My Hero would have none of this.  He got up from his seat, went right up to the kid and told him to give me my pen back. “Stalker boy,” thought about it for a minute, looked back at me, got up, walked back to where I was sitting and handed me my pen.

On his way back to his seat, he kind of pushed my Hero. Intentionally shoving him with his shoulder. 

Oh no! Before I knew it, fists were flying. It was a blur of craziness!

The bus suddenly stopped and the bus driver told them to get off the bus. Kids started yelling, “Fight! Fight! Fight!”

It was horrible.

Everyone rushed off the bus to watch the fight. All I can remember were these two boys punching each other and flipping each other over cars.

I couldn’t watch.

I grabbed a friend and begged her to walk home with me. I couldn’t believe I had just started a fight. It was never my intent. I just wanted the harassment to stop. And honestly, as silly as it may sound, I wanted my pen back. 

The next day both boys came to school with bruises and black eyes. I never found out who won the fight but I felt really bad about it. Especially, for not sticking around to walk home with my Hero and make sure he was okay.  

The end result? The Stalker kid never ever bothered me again.

It wasn’t long before the Hero kid dropped out of school again. Or maybe he was expelled. I’m not really sure. What I do know is that this kid saved me. From sexual harassment, being groped and molested and possibly something much, much worse.

I am grateful I didn’t have to find out what might have happened. If no one had finally stopped him. No young girl should ever have to be subjected to this type of harassment. Ever.

So then does this make me a part of the “Me too” movement? Not even close.

Instead of “Me too” I say “Not Me.”

The Best Way to Protect Yourself from Violence

The best way to protect yourself against harassment (sexual or any kind), violence and danger is to learn how to protect yourself. Be aware, educate yourself on safety and learn self-defense. Always be aware of your surroundings and get help the second you begin to feel threatened.

You don’t have to take abuse from anyone. Ever.

How to Protect Yourself from Violence

One of the best books I’ve read on self-protection is Survive the Unthinkable: A Total Guide to Women’s Self-Protection by Tim Larkin.

Learn how to protect yourself (and your family) from violence. Check your local Martial Arts Center for a self-defense class near you. If you reside in the Greater Buffalo Area there is an excellent self-defense class I’ve taken at Spar Self Defense.

Personal safety expert, Pete Canavan agrees that “The time to prepare is before the need arises.”

I met Pete when he interviewed me for his podcast Safety Talk. We talked about yet another personal experience (more serious than this one) and how to protect yourself during a home invasion.

By listening to the interview, you will learn at least one effective method (that I use) to protect yourself from an attacker inside your home. This one safety tip alone could save your life. To listen to the interview go here.

Pete Canavan teaches college campus safety, online safety, women’s safety and much more. To learn more about safety and protection go to Pete.Canavan.com.

Be proactive. Protect yourself from violence now. Before it’s too late.

Don’t say “Me too.” Say “Not me.”

Did you know that Writing can help you heal from emotional trauma?

According to Psychology Today studies have shown that sharing your story through writing can help you heal from emotional trauma.

Although it can be difficult at first, there are long lasting effects of healing through writing. Reliving and writing about your traumatic experiences can prevent and alleviate emotional triggers that may lead to anxiety, PTSD and depression.

Plus, by sharing your story through the Power of Writing you can help other women who may be suffering from similar experiences.

Right now, at this very moment, there are women who are experiencing trauma. Imagine how your story might help them cope. By sharing how you went from surviving to thriving again. In a world that’s not always kind.

With over 7 billion people in the world, chances are pretty good that there are many women who can benefit from hearing your personal story.

Don’t allow your story to eat you up inside. Share your story and discover a whole new world of writing. It’s easier now than it’s ever been to Write and Publish your first Book.

Download your FREE guide to learn how you can easily Start Writing Your Book Today.

Irene Gabelnick
 

Irene Gabelnick is an Author, Speaker and Lifestyle blogger.