I believe her.png

I Believe Her

The man who molested me was a father of a 16 year old boy. I too was 16 years old and 2 months into my pregnancy with my own son. The shame, fear, terror and impact this has had in my life runs deep and impacted my sense of trust and safety in a world overwhelming run by men.

Men who want be respected. Men who teach. Men who preach. Men who govern. There are men who deserve to be in these positions. Who deserve to be the fathers of our children. Partners we share our bodies with. There are men who protect, who stand up for justice and there are men who fight for dignity and freedom.

There are also men who want to be respected, who teach, who preach, who govern, that deserve no such position or accolades, no warmth from a woman's womb or heart. No cheers, spotlight or favor. For if a man becomes a predator, if a man kills either in spirit, trust or body, his place in society should be vehemently unwelcome and held to the highest standards of consequence and education.

Every woman, child and man deserves to live free and safe in a world that protects rather than attacks. And I call upon all men and women to stand up for one another, to speak up for justice, and to boldly change the narrative around abuse.

I ask Americans from every nook and cranny, in every city and state, regardless of Blue or Red politics, to grab your damn ovaries and fucking stand up to injustice and speak up.

Speak up for your wives, who have been traumatized by a previous attack.

Speak up for your daughters, who thought they would get in trouble for what happened to them.

Speak up for your sons, who are good men and need strong role models of decency and strength and honesty.

Speak up for your sister, who didn't want you to think less of her.

Speak up for your granddaughters, who don't yet have a voice.

Speak up for your mother, who was told to keep quiet for the sake of the family's honor.

SPEAK UP Damn It! Speak Up!

While the initial trauma of what happened to me in my teens has lessened, with years of therapy and support, the sticky remnants affect my relationships with men personally and professionally.

As a little girl, I loved my fun, playful guy friends. As I got older, the world of men became frightening. The idea that I was responsible for men's sexual misdeeds set the stage for accepting abuses and taking on the burden of their behavior.

This is why I didn't report it. This is why I only shared this with my family a few years ago.

I was set up to accept, justify and take responsibility for being abused.

This is very sick and twisted. And unfortunately, with or without religious idiocy attached, too much of society at large has accepted this as well.

We have an opportunity to really listen to each other, to share our stories, so that we can learn, move forward and create a society that truly protects and serves.

There's nothing I can do about the guy who molested. He might even be dead by now. I have no idea. I distanced myself from that family and fortunately moved to California a month later.

I raised my son on my own for the next 18 years. He's a good man.

That is my contribution. And sharing my story is part of the solution.

Please share your story. If you don't have a story, listen to those who do. And for the love of humanity, stand up and speak up for all of us who are here now, and those to come.

P.S. Thank you Dr. #Ford for your courage. #Ibelieveher #americanhero

© 2018 V.E. Wilde all rights reserved

{1 of my #metoo experiences}