The “Me Too” movement has taken off like a storm, like a hurricane.  It is a subject that has been left in the dark and behind the scenes since the Serpent coaxed Eve to take the first bite of the apple, and she in turn persuaded Adam to do likewise.   From that point forward it appears woman has been blamed for whatever degrading incidents came her way, assuming she somehow deserved “it”, whatever “it” might prove to be.  She has been viewed as the “weaker sex,” less intelligent, less deserving, and less valued than her male counterpart.

Long before Harvey Weinstein’s antics were made public, I wrote the following about just such a character in my book titled Libby’s Ashes:

She quickly made her way toward the door, but Julian was between her and the door before she realized it.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and tried to push her toward the couch, but she managed to break free and step back. 

“Come on, sweetheart, you must know the drill.  Every young starlet sleeps her way to the top, so what makes you think you’re any different?”  

“My morals,” she hissed, shooting him an angry glance.  

“Morals my ass!”  He narrowed his eyes and licked his plump lips.

“Look, Mr. Secorski, I have no intention of sleeping my way anywhere, much less to the top.  I think you have me figured all wrong.”  

“Not if you want the part you’re vying for, I don’t.  Just consider this a training session.”  A sneer came with the words as he reached for her again, grasping her hard and pulling her toward him to press his wet, parted lips onto hers, painfully bruising her mouth.  

Veronica felt as though she might suffocate as he moved his lips brutally against hers, probing her mouth with his tongue and pressing the swollen bulge between his legs forcefully against her.  She felt revolted and suddenly sick to her stomach as she vehemently brought her knee up between his legs.

Needless to say, Mr. Secorski received exactly what he had coming.  But sadly, most women in Veronica’s situation wouldn’t think to defend themselves in such a manner.  They might be too much in fear of losing their job, their chance of bettering their lives, or supporting their children, that they might try only to escape and in turn become even more of a victim if they end up actually raped.  Even more sadly, most women, I believe, that have found themselves in such a predicament will feel such debilitating shame and humiliation, as though their victimization is somehow their own fault that they might never divulge the incident or the horror it inflicted on them, to anyone.

NOTE:  Being male does not exempt an individual from sexual predators.  Boys, young men, all males in general can, and sometimes do, fall prey to sexual predators.

Unfortunately, such victimization of females isn’t exclusive to women.  Girls of all ages also fall victim to demeaning sexual assault, as told in my memoir, Growing Up Parker With Mama.

I was nine when Mama sent me to Charlie’s, our landlord’s, house that was just up the road from our little rented shack.  She sent me there to make a phone call that afternoon. Charley was lying on a metal cot just inside the door of his porch at the front of his two-story house.  When I knocked at the screen door, his voice coming from inside in a location about the height just above my thigh startled me.  He told me to come in, and I did.  I explained that Mama had sent me to use his phone.  I don’t remember what the phone call pertained to; it was probably either to Mama’s work, or to my paternal grandmother.

Charley gave me permission to go into the house and use the phone.  But as I walked past the cot where he was lying to get to the phone, he reached out and grabbed my wrist.  Before I knew what was happening he yanked me onto the cot with him and he proceeded to fondle my private parts, forcing his hand down the front of my underpants.  I was terrified and humiliated, but finally managed to squirm free.  I don’t remember whether I made the phone call that day or not, but I highly doubt that I did.  I remember running home, feeling violated.  I immediately told Mama what our landlord had done.  Mama’s face turned crimson red with rage when I’d finished telling her what had taken place.  I was confused and even more humiliated than ever when Mama commenced to shriek at me.

“Don’t you ever repeat that filthy lie to anyone, do you hear me?  What do you want to do, get us ran out of here?”

It was obvious that Mama didn’t believe me.  Either that or she just didn’t care.  She was calling me a liar.  I felt as though she had slammed her fists into my gut with her words.  From that day forward Mama repeatedly told me and anyone who was willing to listen that I was a habitual liar.  She sent me to Charlie’s house to use the phone on many more occasions after that, and he repeated the disgusting acts that left me feeling guilty, humiliated, and extremely dirty.

So many people are proclaiming that the provocative dress of women today encourages sexual assault and sexual misconduct among men.  I’m of the belief that no man or woman has the right to sexually assault another human being, no matter how the victim is dressed, how they live their lives, or their sexual orientation.  That might surprise many who never considered that a woman is capable of sexually assaulting someone as well.  In my way of believing, no one, male or female, has the right to sexually put their hands on another individual without their permission.  Call me an imbecile, but I believe it is time that we make everyone accountable for their own bad behavior, whether it is sexual innuendo disguised as a joke or blatantly insulting sexual remarks that the commenter implies are a compliment.

And that brings me to the subject of female equality; the gender gap.  If a woman does the same job as a man, she should be paid the same as a man.  She is not a lesser human being of lesser value because of her gender, if she is doing the same job she should receive the same pay; equal pay for equal work, plain and simple.