The Sexually Violent aMErican Ecology

TW: pedophilia, kidnapping, sexual harassment/violence


If you knew My life, You wouldn’t bother melodramatically Accusing me with the question:

“Why do you Hate men?”


I was Preyed Upon By Online Pedophiles from seven Until my Late teens.

I’ve lived A lifetime Of Sexual Harassment

Framed by men as “Just jokes”,

Requesting that I “Lighten up”.


I was given Ultimatums To flash young men

Or be left stranded

Before I even Had a license.


Sexually Harassed At work Too many Times to Count, I Reported the events to superiors – who did nothing.

A lifetime of socially naturalized self- and bodily-hatred.

A lifetime Of being catcalled,

And being told to smile; to alter my face for others pleasure, at the expense of my own.

Only to be told “Those are all compliments.”


Spied on for – god knows how long – by a peeping Tom across the street at 25.

Having my dad laugh at my being voyeurized, as I told both my parents.

Having the policeman laugh too, when I filed the police report [one of the first times I learned sexual violence doesn’t get criminalized, here, in America].

He said I would need video footage because my voice would never be proof enough.


I’ve been Drugged And raped Beyond Coherence multiple times, by men who dared to use the word “friend”

Then gaslit And treated As if a man’s voice was the only weapon big enough to fill the gaping hollow where My consent was supposed to be.


I’ve lost count of my assaults.

I’ve been Coerced into sex consistently.

Groped during fake snuff films by a sociopath at 22.

Some men Claimed To have love For me, but made my pleasure barely ever a footnote in their own story.

Often they had sex with my body like I was little more than access to warm female orifices.

Other men didn’t Even Bother Pretending.


I’ve been Touched Without my Consent, Just About everywhere.

In bars,

During a HS programming class, While other Boys looked On – Did and Said nothing at 15.


Three. Different. Times.

I’ve Woken up to Being Touched by a man I’d Hardly Known – in just my early 20s alone.

Other times, I’d Fallen asleep Next to men

Who listened For my breath to slow and deepen

Just to fondle me While I was asleep.


Once an Elderly man in a rusty truck

Drove up Behind my Car, as I Was pumping Gas, and just Started Masturbating.

I yelled at him, but He didn’t Drive away until he was finished.


I was Kidnapped At 23 or 24

For three days

And nearly Sex trafficked to Philadelphia by an artist traveling the country off Kickstarter.

The only reason I live to write this is because I had already lasted a life of fawning to survive.


At 26, one Local politician And one volunteer each separately Attempted to bribe and Solicit me, one during and one after My job as a Democratic State Rep Campaign manager.

At 29, a “Last living Scholar” in my academic field grabbed my hand, without my consent, multiple times, and tried To groom me During the same Academic event where I won their top convention paper.


To tell me sexual violence doesn’t exist, would be to tell me I haven’t lived my life.


People have The nerve To tell me, And other sexual Violence survivors,

After I, and we, have Lived our Whole lives

That it’s “Not that Bad here in America.”



Everyone Should be Asking me,

“Why did you ever trust men?”


“How or why The fuck Would you-

—Ever—trust Another Man again?”

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