Silence ...

Hardly a day can go by without hearing another woman’s story about being sexually harassed or assaulted.  These stories are heartbreaking and at first, I wondered why are all these women coming out with their stories now?  What kept them from telling the story when it happened?  What caused them to remain silent?

I couldn’t answer that question without looking at my own past and my own story.  Yes, I have a story.  I’m not going to share the details because I’ve moved past it and refuse to give it any power in my life.  However, when I think about my story and why I remained silent at the time the first thing that comes to mind is that I didn’t think anyone would believe me. I, the victim, took responsibility for what occurred and it wasn’t my responsibility to take.  My silence exonerated the abuser.

I read a woman’s story yesterday and she said that when a powerful man came at her sideways she didn’t want to make it awkward so she nervously giggled and waited for the encounter to be over.  Why do we, the victims, work so hard to diffuse a situation so the abuser won’t be uncomfortable?

I can’t speak for anyone else.  I can only speak to my experiences and I know that as a Black woman I have had a very difficult time being heard.  In my home, in the workplace, in relationships.  I don’t know why exactly.  I speak clearly.  I know how to enunciate.  Why can’t you hear me?  Depending on the situation I have learned two strategies.  I will either speak up or shut down completely.  Both strategies have their downfalls.  When I speak up or repeat myself I risk being labeled an “angry Black woman”.  Apparently, it’s not possible for a Black woman to voice an opinion without being called “angry”.  I have been in meetings and have provided solutions to problems and have been completely ignored and then not two minutes later a white man will give the same solution and everyone at the meeting acts like he just cured cancer.  When that happens enough times, I will shut down completely.  I will stop taking my place at the conference room table.  The problem with that is now the people around me start to look at me like I don’t have anything of value to contribute and then I stop getting invited to the meetings.  It's as if Black women cannot win. 

Similar situations have played out while dating.  I disagreed with a guy over something and he said I seemed bossy.  I explained what an endoscopy was to another guy during a conversation and he was offended because he felt like I was questioning his intelligence.  I asked yet another guy a simple question and he said, “I will not be disrespected”.  What in the world?  For the record, we had been dating for six months and he was beginning to act disinterested so I asked, “Is six months your time limit for relationships?”  Even NewBae tends to tell me to “calm down” whenever my voice goes up an octave.  I hate that shit and I’ve told him so.  He’s working on it. 

Let me just say right here that if you’re thinking to yourself, “well, maybe it was the way you said it,” then YOU are part of the problem.  Men very rarely get questioned on the way they say things so miss me with that bullshit.  If you can’t handle my tone then you need to grow up.  I can’t pretend to be docile and passive for your comfort.  Amanda Seales said it best:

 

I don’t know what the answer is but I do know that silence is not the answer.  I refuse to allow myself to be stifled.  I’ve been called “angry”, “bossy”, “loud”, “opinionated” and I’m sure other not-so-nice adjectives but that is the risk I’m willing to take in order to be heard.  We have a voice for a reason and it’s not for the purpose of making abusers comfortable.