#Not all Gerbybor

Now, unless you're one of those Brits that genuinely believe that nothing important happends outside this country, you have probably heard of the wave of "racist-feminists" occurring after the mass sexual assaults this last New Years Eve. A racist-feminist is a person (usually male) that chose to believe that only immigrants commit sexual assaults to feel more justified in being racist. They don't care for equality, they just use the word feminism to further their own cause because it makes them sound more relateable. (Again, in other countries, being a feminist is a relateable thing). 

Ok, so, in response to that people have flooded facebook with stories of their own experiences, most of them way before immigration was as much of a thing as it is now to highlight that sexism is not a race problem, it's a gender problem. 

Ex: If it was a race problem there would be Syrian women cornering men in town as well. And we wouldn't have any rape stories pre-dating 2010ish.

Now we all know that the world is more sexist in some places then others. That was never a question, of course it is. But you can't integrate people and expect them to act better then us, can you? Point is, only when we share our stories can we start to understand what actually happens. I know many of the people that has shared their stories..that was actually more shocking than that I also knew the people they talked about. Why? you should know why..

When I was 13 years old I started highschool just like any other Swedish child. For reasons that now seem silly I had ended up in a different class than my friends and I wasn't hugely popular in my new class. But I was fine with it, I was quite an introvert teen.

I have always had the fortune/misfortune to be relatively pretty. I say that in a mixed way because while it is undoubtedly a perk generally, it also makes people make certain assumptions on ones availability. And in my new class there was a boy who fancied me. Of course there was. And he did what "boys do". Pinching, throwing things, squeezing me, pulling my hair, poking me with rulers, shouting things..stalking me at gym lessons so I didn't dare to change..the list goes on. Well, everyone else thought this was adorable. "He is just in love with you". Even the popular girls in the class insinuated that if I let him go on I might get to join them at lunch and such important teenage things.. But I remember the uneasy feeling.. He would sneak up and sit behind me all the time..pushing his table against me. His friends would all help him out by trapping me so I could never get away. I asked my teacher to move me to a different desk so I could focus in class (it was history ffs!). He did but it didn't help, they followed me everywhere. 

So one day, at a history lesson, I stood up and pushed the table as hard as I could back at him, looked him in the eyes and said: " I would never fancy anyone as fat and creepy as you so get you fucking hands off me."

Silence.

They sent me to the school psychologist and I got to change class. For at least the rest of that year I kept my headphones on while walking trough the library and in the corridors leading to their part of school but I could still hear them shouting " stuck up whore", "ugly bitch", " I/ he was just joking, don't make such a big deal"  and other generic insults..feel the hateful looks. He got away with no consequences. They all did. As they always do.

The reason I think no one tells these stories is because no one believes them.. Even now that I write this I know that everyone else that were there has blocked this out and I alone have to remember it. And I can imagine it would be even worse if it happened alone, I had 30 people witnessing it and I'm still not believed! 

I chose this story, not because I'm always such a bad ass who stands up for my self damning the consequences, I chose this story because all the others have told stories where they didn't and wish they did..but I know it makes no difference. The moment that person decides to take you he takes your choice away as well. The only difference between this experience and many of my other ones is that this time I don't think it was my fault.

 Not anymore anyway..

I dedicate this post to Victor and his loyal friends.

I'm glad your lives turned out so uneventful.