Women: share your stories of having your crotch grabbed (when you didn't want it)

In My Humble Opinion
1

I read this story in the Washington Post this morning:
What happens when you ask women for their stories of assault? Thousands of replies.

I’m posting this in the Pit because I expect it to get contentious. Not positive it belongs here, but I expect someone to make this into a mudfight. And I apologize in advance to anyone who takes offense at the topic, but if you’re not interested, then don’t read it.

I’m NOT asking about all assaults of any kind (unless you wish to share). I**'m asking women to post incidents where a male reached out and touched your genital area, over your clothes or under them, when you did not invite him to, and when you did not want him to. **Can I make that any clearer?

This could have happened at any age (you or the male), in any setting (personal, professional, academic), at any time of the day or night, in short, in any circumstances. You can add any other details (did you tell anyone, did you punch/knee him in the balls, was he your boss/teacher and you decided not to react, etc.) or don’t fill in with any details besides the basic incident. If it happened more than once, do tell.

*Aside: If you’d like to share times when a man touched your breast(s) when you did not invite such touch and did not want it, by all means, please post. *

I’ll go first: when I was about 10 (in 1958), I was walking in the woods with two little neighbor girls–they were twins about age 6. We encountered a boy on the path–he was older than me, I’m guessing around 13 or 14. I don’t remember much except him spontaneously reaching inside my shorts and panties and cupping my genital area. It startled me. I can still feel his cold hand 57 years later. I wasn’t afraid–I didn’t feel threatened. I felt embarrassed, especially because of the girls. Then he took out his penis, which was erect, smooth and pink (yes, he was a white boy, and so were we three girls). I didn’t know what to do, so I didn’t do anything. The girls went home and told their parents and they called my parents. I was absolutely mortified. My parents never talked to me about sex. When my father started questioning me about this, I wanted the earth to open up and swallow me.

I don’t think any lasting harm was done to me, but I remember the feeling that somehow I must have invited him to touch me just by being there and being a girl. He reached out to me the way you would automatically assume a dog wants to be petted on the head.

Later, when I was in my 30’s and working for the local chapter of an internationally known non-profit organization, we had a board member-- he was old (in his 80s) and very rich, and actually, pretty charming. He had a way of sidling up to me (and presumably other women) and accidentally rubbing the back of his hand against the side of your breast while he was shaking hands with you.

Again, I’m not claiming rape or assault on this one, but it’s telling that he assumed this was perfectly okay to do and even expected.

Anyone else want to tell her story?

2

You’re probably going to get more responses by moving this out of the Pit.

When I was 10 or 11 my Mom’s 4th husband (who I considered my father) started groping my breasts and genital area. He started by making inappropriate comments which eventually became physical (whistling at me, telling me to take off my shirt etc…) The first time we were in his van on the way back from Tae Kwon Do class. He held and stroked my hand and then slowly reached his hand up to stroke my breast.

I told myself it was an accident on his part. When it was happening, I set ‘‘point of no return’’ markers in my head. Well, this could theoretically be an accident, since he can’t see in the dark. If he touches me in X place, then I’ll know it’s intentional. Then he touched me in X place and I just retreated inside my head. I did my best not to pay attention. It kept happening, though. He would do it in the morning when I was supposed to be asleep. I pretended to be asleep. He would force me to hug and kiss him until he had a hard-on.

I never told him no. I didn’t fight back, I didn’t move. I was terrified. I loved him as a Dad and did not want to lose his support because he was one of the few people helping me survive my mentally ill mother. He spent time with me and taught me stuff so I just figured it was the price I had to pay to have a father. I didn’t want to know what would happen if I told him ‘no.’ I didn’t know I had a right to say ‘no.’

It continually escalated until I left home at 17.

16 years later and I’m still kinda fucked up about it. Mostly because of how much it makes you doubt yourself, your own head. The first thing my mother said to me when I told her is ‘‘It must have been a misunderstanding.’’ That hit right to the core because it was a long time before I could accept for myself that it was no misunderstanding. The man was a sociopath and in retrospect, I can see every calculated move. I had (and still have) nightmares about him raping me and dumping my body in the woods. That man was more fucked up than the average pedophile, sometimes when he was doing this stuff to me, he said some deeply disturbing things about what a power trip killing was (he was a hunter) and how it was a shame humans experienced guilt.

So people might hear the details and think ‘‘NBD’’ but it was a betrayal and loss beyond comprehension for me and the reality I had both parents gaslighting me in two completely different ways. It’s not what he did but that he did it at all. It’s not what he did but how he fucked with my head.

This shit with Trump has really ramped up my PTSD, but it’s also lit a fire under my ass on behalf of abuse and assault survivors everywhere. I am so goddamn fed up with the apathy and ignorance around such matters I don’t even care anymore what people think. When someone can openly boast about sexually assaulting women and still be an active contender for President, there is something seriously fucking wrong with our society. The people poisoning our culture will eventually lose, because we, the survivors, are fucking legion. All we have to do is stand up.

3

Ok. I’ll ask the mods to move it.

Thanks for your post.

4

In my mid/late twenties, just walking down the sidewalk across the street from Faneuil Hall. Two guys walking toward me; as they came abreast of me they casually reached out and groped me without breaking stride, and walked on laughing as I whirled and stared in impotent fury at them.

5

Like others here, was assaulted at age ten. By a friend’s dad. I hesitated to post this only because I’m not sure where this is going.

I would generally agree that every woman has a story to tell, that assaults and unwanted contacts are way more prevalent than most people think.

But I’ve also worked for the past 20 years in male dominated companies, sometimes being the only woman physically present in the plant…it’s nice that I don’t always realize that until after I’ve left. Really nice. I know the guys sound like a bunch of sexist pigs on occasion, out of my range; I also know without a doubt they’d have my back if anyone tried to take advantage of me under those circumstances. 'Nuf said.

Spice Weasel, not one single, sane person is going to read that and think “NBD”.

6

I take it crotch grabs while playing rugby don’t count? Or by bullies.

Or being a guy.

7

I was molested by my father for 2 years. Six to eight years old. Needless to say there was grabbing.

When I was in sixth grade we had to start dressing in PE shorts, and I remember several male students trying to put their hands up our shorts legs. “Our” because there were several girls who complained but we were told to stop teasing the boys, that “boys will be boys” and the standard handwaving away our concerns.

When I was 18 and pregnant I was walking down the street and a man walked right up to me and smiled and went straight for my crotch. I later found out he was “special” and I was told to just ignore him when he did that because he couldn’t help himself. Maybe they should have not let him hang out on the street alone if he’s got these issues? He was a grown man twice my size! I was afraid to leave the house until we moved.

The last time a man grabbed my crotch I stabbed him in the hand with a putty tool. The kind with the sharp pointed edge. He griped that he didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, that he was just playing around. I wanted to tell my boss but I knew it would be useless. It was already hard enough being the only woman in the entire company. I had to act like a guy or they treated me different. So I kept my mouth shut but at least he kept his distance after I stood my ground.

8

They probably should count, but it probably happens a lot less often.

I’ve never had anyone grab my crotch, but I have in years long past been groped, had my ass pinched, and had someone hump my leg like a dog, all by complete strangers. The leg humper seemed to actually be surprised and offended when I told him to fuck off. No, buying me a drink doesn’t give you the right to do that, especially since I didn’t even want the damn drink.

9

Twice:

(1) In 7th grade,during flute lessons with the band instructor (circa 1971). Instruction for specific instruments was given in the band room, which had no windows. Another girl and I took lessons together. He had a tendency to “encourage” us to “sit up straight in order to breathe better” by grabbing us in the ribcage, generally managing to graze our budding breasts in the process. Usually he managed to teeter right on the edge of acceptable, leaving me wondering if it was my imagination. But one day I was standing up to get something from the shelf, and he stuck his finger as far as he could into my vagina through my panties.

The other flute player and I never talked about it and I told no one.

Years later I did discuss it with another friend who played clarinet. She said that with clarinet players, he would push girls’ skirts up to use their slips to wipe off the reeds. We concluded he probably had a “move” for every instrument.

I also discussed it a few years later with the school guidance counselor - I had really looked up to this counselor and had become good enough friends that I stayed in touch after junior high. I went to his and his wife’s house for dinner after the band instructor had retired, and mentioned the conversation with my clarinet-playing friend and our theory that he probably had a move for every instrument. The counselor said, “Yes, I always noticed that he was a little free with his hands with the boys too.”

The actual groping didn’t bother me TOO much - At the time it occurred, I had the good fortune to be sufficiently clueless that I just don’t think it really sunk in how serious a crime it was.

However, finding out that the guidance counselor I had long admired had had an inkling about what was going on, and never did anything - that was a very sad lesson.

  1. I was in the public library in Manchester, NH doing some photocopying (probably around 1974). The machine wasn’t producing very clear copies and it helped to press down on the paper so that there was full contact with the glass when the photocopying was happening. So I was standing there, legs slightly spread apart, leaning as hard as I could on the top of the copier.

I felt a weird tickle in my crotch, thought it was my imagination, and ignored it. But then I felt it again. Confused, I looked around - and there was this weird guy doing a very strange, exaggerated tip toe away from me like this, while giggling dementedly.

I shook my head in dismay, told the librarian at the desk about it (the guy disappeared pretty fast), and left. I did take extra care to watch out while leaving the library, to be sure he wasn’t following me or hiding under my car or anything. But I didn’t take it too seriously. I told my mother about it, and although she didn’t suggest that I do anything like make a police report, she was a lot more upset than I was (correctly, in hindsight). Her feeling was that anyone who had become bold enough to molest in public like that is a genuine danger.

10

Someone vastly more talented than me needs to make a crotch-burglar outfit for that dude tip-toeing away. In all seriousness, these stories are dismal reminders of how abuse of power and abuse of trust are far too common.

11

Maybe (and this is just one guy talking) this isn’t the thread for your jokes.

12

It’s the pit. And did you see the ridiculous video linked? The video is humorous.

13

Just because you’re in the pit doesn’t mean you have to be an asshole. Do the posters before you sound like they’re looking for jokes?

14

That’s your self-righteous opinion you jackass. Seriously, I acknowledge that was some terrible behavior but that video that was linked is pretty funny. Stop trying to be a white knight for some women on the internet who you’ll never meet especially when no offense was meant. Look at that damn video before you offer your opinion and stop ruining the thread with your nonsense.

If CairoCarol was offended, I’m sure she can speak for herself and doesn’t need you mansplaining or manfending or whatever it is you think you’re doing. And if she is offended by the totality of my first post that has YOUR panties all twisted than I apologize to her for causing offense on a sensitive subject when none was intended.

The gallows humor I see on this site when people die. Now that’s offensive. How about you go pester those threads?

15

I hope this thread gets moved out of the pit and I don’t want to derail it any more than we already have. We can continue this discussion here if you’re so inclined.

16

No, it is not just that, you are an idiot pig with no judgement and no culture.

17

Crotch per se, I don’t recall it ever happening.

In my case they usually go for the ass. That includes that new teacher who thought it would be a good idea to make half a dozen of us (male and female) stay after class for “getting to know you talks”, making us walk into his office one by one and proceed to ask inappropriate questions, then attempt a grab, which is the point where each and every one of us hit him and left like a fury out of Hell. It includes grabs and dick-in-the-crack in the subway (and one of those dicks was from a guy who had several inches on me, and we were the only people in the train… no way that’s accidental). There was that guy who tried to grab my ass when I was waiting tables along with my friends, to pay for our summer “meeting place”; I slammed him with the thankfully-empty tray and, when the owner/bartender yelled “hey?” explained “he’s tried to grab my ass!”, she yelled “they’re waitresses, not whores, you want to grab ass grab your own or get out of here, that clear?” And of course, hands in the subway. Oh, and the Grandfather from Hell, but well, that’s just a part of why I refer to that sonabitch as the Grandfather from Hell (and I can call him a sonabitch without bending the truth: he got his ways from his mother).

But I still think the asshole who made me go on a job interview abroad, when he had no intention to hire me, and who then expected me to spend the night with him and cook him a romantic breakfast (I offered fried eggs with chorizo, making it clear he’d provide both the eggs and the chorizo), takes the cake.

18

Well, there was the guy at the gym where I was lifting weights. Under the guise of spotting me (I was using dumb-bells - didn’t need spotting), he stepped up behind me, wrapped his arms around my upper arms, which made it hard for me to move, and proceeded to rub his erect penis in my butt crack. I stepped away from him, dropped the weights, left the gym and never went back. The manager called to ask what happened, and I told him. I don’t know what came of it. I was younger and wish I had been more forthright. At the time, I just wanted to get the fuck out.

Several parties in college involved males pouring, or attempting to pour, beverages down the front of my shirt so that they could “help” me dry it off. I got good at dodging, and learned to dodge entire groups of boys entirely.

19

FTR, I was not offended at all. Octopus said:

Had I experienced any reservations about his comment preceding the one quoted above (I didn’t), this remark would have assured me that I was okay with his/her post.

Also: it’s the pit! While I was not upset by octopus’ remark, if I was, that would be my problem, not his/hers. And I’d happily say so and enjoy it.

ETA: for what it’s worth, Ramira, I think you are an awesome poster. And I appreciate your sentiments, it just wasn’t necessary here.

20

I feel incredibly fortunate to not have any assaults (aside from the usual teenage groping) for the majority of my life.

Until I went to visit my ex-father-in-law shortly after his wife died.

I was remarried by this time but, having spent over 25 years as his daughter-in-law and being under the impression that we had a good relationship during that time - I really thought of him as an alternate father - I decided to stop and visit while passing through town.

I greeted him with a hug and he proceeded to stick his tongue down my throat and grope my chest. Appalled, I pushed him away in shock, but thinking it was just an aberration, stayed to visit. He then tried to talk me into staying the night and at one point pinned me up against the counter and rubbed his crotch on me.
Such a weird feeling trying to reconcile that behavior with my almost life-long impression of him.

I still haven’t figured out what on earth would make him think I’d have the remotest interest in him or how his behavior was in any way appropriate. He seemed to think it was just fine.

Sad to think a man I admired for so long was really just a weird deluded creep.