In solidarity with Dr. Christine Blasey Ford, we want to share our stories about moments of violation that we have experienced. Since coming forward, the GOP and skeptics have made her feel insignificant and written off her accusations simply because the event took place during her youth. She remembers critical details: how Kavanaugh and his friend trapped her in a room and played loud music so no one could hear her cry for help, then how Kavanaugh got on top of her, covered her mouth, and tried to strip off her clothes. They were drunk, laughing the entire time as Ford feared for her life. She was able to escape, but it traumatized her. Anyone who has ever experienced a breach of personal space and consent will remember these moments for the rest of our lives.

Call To Action

If you have ever experienced a moment of violation, you are welcome to share your accounts with us and help us create a conversation about this important topic. Send us a 350 words or less account detailing your experiences and we will publish them in an article series on our website. We will simply include your first name and the city you reside in. You can email us your stories at email@lipstickandpolitics.com. These moments happened and, just like Dr. Ford’s account, they should not be disregarded.

Our Stories

There are some moments we actively try to forget. We lock them away and hope they don’t ruminate into our day to day. There is no question that the memories of violation are just as distressing and salient as the initial traumatic experience.

The assault on Dr. Christine Blasey Ford has triggered many women to think about moments they buried, moments when they were violated as young women. For me, it has brought to the surface several moments I didn’t know still bothered me, things I thought I had already worked through. One particular incident happened during a volunteer activity over lunch in middle school. I must have been around 13 or 14. I was assigned as cash clerk for a tiny candy shop located in between the gym and school hallway. Because the shop had two windows, two people often worked the busy lunch shift. Working in the tiny candy shop was mostly fun since a lot of kids came by to talk. It was a social spot and we were the center of it. Sometimes boys would assemble at the gym’s opening to the shop and aggressively barter favors for candy. Usually it had to do with homework or trading things. This time, one of the boys offered a kiss. I’m not sure why he thought his kiss was currency. Without my consent, the boy leaned over the window grabbed my arms and pulled me close and pressed his lips against mine. I felt shame, anger and panic. No one had asked me if I wanted to kiss him. He had not asked me if I wanted to kiss him. Before he let me go, the boys around us were laughing. My ‘best’ friend was laughing. The joke was on me. The boy then demanded candy which my friend gave him. The candy wasn’t free; it would come out of our pockets because everything had to be accounted for.

This is my earliest childhood memory of consent, violation of space and sexual harassment. I wasn’t in high school at the time, I was in middle school, yet I can still remember it all very clearly. It’s hard to forget any type of violation, be it groping, rumor-spreading, bullying or any type of unwanted physical touch. How can anyone forget a full-on assault like the one Dr. Ford experienced? Those kind of moments are rarely forgotten, even if we try really hard to forget them.
-Mira, San Francisco

There have been many, but the moments of violation that I remember most vividly are due to my reaction to the assault. It has taken time, but now looking back, I see that my responses to these violations were just a way of trying to avoid the pain. Whether I was grabbed from behind while dancing in the darkness at a house party, or blatantly touched by a stranger passing me on the street, or pushed farther than I wanted to go by a boy I finally brought home, my reaction was always quite similar– nonexistent. I specifically remember an instance where I was drinking with a large group of friends, mostly guys. While all of us were dancing around, one of them “playfully” grabbed my ass, and then proceeded to tell some of the other guys that it was “so fucking nice” and they “should totally do it too”. Looking back, I wish I had shoved the guy away and told him and his dumb friends to fuck off. But instead I just laughed along and stood there while a few more guys grabbed me. I distinctly remember not wanting to look uncool, not wanting to seem like a prude, not wanting to ruin the mood of the drunken dance party. So I laughed along with them. And I stood there. And I took it. Because taking it and pretending like it didn’t affect me seemed much easier at the time than making a scene and letting myself feel the pain and disgust and anger that comes with being touched without consent. And the worst part for me now, is that I can almost guarantee that none of those boys remember this incident. But I do. And unfortunately, I probably always will. So yes, I believe Dr. Ford.
-Cianna, San Francisco