INFO:

When I was 9 years old, an older boy at school pushed me up against the stairwell and forcibly kissed me. When I was 15 years old, a man stalked me at work, followed me home and drove alongside me, masturbating as I walked. When I was 16 years old, a man sat across from me on the train, pulled out his penis and started masturbating. When I was 17 years old, a man exposed himself to me regularly at the school bus stop. When I was 18 years old, a man I was dating shoved me so hard during an argument I fell over and cut my head. When I was 19 years old, a man forced himself onto me despite my protests. When I was 20 years old, a man was caught taking photos up my skirt at a bus stop. When I was 21 years old, two men grabbed me by the throat and pinned me up against a wall when I was walking home at night. When I was 27 years old, a man who was my Uber driver put his hand on my thigh and asked if he could kiss me. When I was 30 years old, a man filmed me without my consent. When I was 31 years old, a man picked me up and physically threw me down a hotel corridor when I refused to sleep with him. When I was 32 years old, a man jumped out from behind a tree when I was walking home at night and was masturbating. When I was 33 years old, a man snapped at me, yelling “I thought you were fun?!” because I didn’t want to stay the night. I could go on and on… and on and on and on. I’ve never spoken about most these incidents to anyone. I kept them to myself, ashamed that maybe it was my fault. Maybe I’d given the wrong impression. It wasn’t until the