It's Wednesday, let's write it. I need to write this. The following contains an encounter of sexual assault which may be triggering lover. So, I understand if you need to take your time with this one or simply skip it depending on where you are in your journey.
I'm tired of being casually sexually assaulted as a woman out in public, no matter the space, place, or continent. And it pains me that I know so many women know exactly what I'm talking about before I even tell you the story. Jesus. As you may know, I'm living in Tokyo until August 2025 and I sing weekly at an establishment in Shibuya.
Last night, I'm seated minding my own business. This drunk and who knows what else guy sees me and throws his arms open while approaching me. He says "so good to see you again!" I have never seen this man in my life; however his as a live performer, weekly at this establishment and in general, I assumed he may have seen me before even if I didn't see him. He goes in for the hug. I curve, side hug. I'm seated, he's standing. My left hand pushes firmly against his body, reorienting it so that we are not in a full, head on embrace. My right elbow swings out a little so that even in an airy embrace, we aren't tight... my body language clearly states: boundaries and unfamiliar. He then proceeds to give me a large, wet, noisy two to three second kiss directly behind and beneath my ear. Like a kiss you give someone you really know and love. I am disgusted, flabbergasted, and I physically freeze. This physical freeze is momentary, but the mental one lasts for 21 hours... until now.
I push him back, weakly smile with a confused furrowed brow... I push him back with both hands. He says "I know you. I've seen you before" I say "what's my name?" He proceeds to say a bunch of random words in Japanese... and then random elements (fire, wind, etc.) in English. Mind you, he's an Englishman.... I say no and start looking at my phone, at the stage, turn my body away from him. He asks am I enjoying the band, I say yes. He grabs my hands, both.. and asks me to dance. I pull them away swiftly, weakly smile (still mentally frozen) and say no thank you, I'll watch him, I'm enjoying the band. He walks away. I wait a few minutes, go to the bathroom, wash behind my ear with fucking bathroom hand soap and a paper towel, pray, take a few deep breaths... prepare to go on stage.
Fast forward ten minutes later, it's time for me to walk on stage to do my thang. As I approach the stage, he's talking to someone with his hands and it miraculously hits me in between both of my breasts the moment I walk past him... I wasn't walking that close to him... yet like I'm under a spell I immediately say "I'm Sorry." He doesn't look over. I perform, he is front row screaming for me saying I'm amazing.... the rest of the night goes... I kill it on stage... stay for a bit, leave.... I tell Tevin about it, he responds very well, as well as he can from another continent (supportive, concerned, attuned, consoling). I say I am okay. I come home, shower, chat with friends, watch re runs of my current binge of the week, eat dinner and Krispy Kreme's, then go to bed. I wake up, go to class today, it's a push, plus I went to bed late. I'm tired. I make it through the day, and a beautiful lunch with a classmate I enjoy here. I take the train home...see a video on Facebook where a woman says highly attractive women (whatever you think that means) are hated by men and women. She provides context: men specifically seek to humble a highly attractive woman even if she is already humble... they seek to knock her down... I drop the video in the groupchat, exit the train, and begin to walk my normal route home.. as I adjust my Beats headphones I feel disgust as the sweat from the humidity of the day and three flights of stairs in the train station make my skin crawl as I remember the sloppy unsolicited kiss and tit brush from a predatory male stranger.. cue fear and shame.
I start to feel shame that I didn't say what I can so presently say out loud now after the moment has passed: "I've never seen you in my life, if you touch me again you'll regret it." Ready to beat the fuck out of this man, bare hands or near object... or the more civil option "Get the fuck away from me. I don't know you, SECURITY!" I feel shame that as I advocate for myself through existing in a new country, living my dreams out daily, and prioritize listening to and uplifting my inner child- that my response to sexual trauma is still to freeze... to become docile... to immediately internalize the responsibility of the transgression/transgressor and immediately go into default de-escalate mode. As I said, I spoke with two of my besties when I got home last night, and didn't mention this encounter. I feel fear... because I remember the sound and the feeling of this disgusting kiss... I feel betrayal... from myself, on myself. I feel sadness and grief for thinking I was more able to stand my ground.. I feel stiff... like this part of my neck has been infected with a plague limited to a very vulnerable area of skin that I reserve for myself and share only with the the man with whom I choose to share my life... I keep it together until I reach my dorm... tears start to well in the elevator... I breath and wait to let them fall until I reach my room... the safest physical space outside of my body that I have currently. I sit down to process this via my writing... everyone in my home country is asleep, and I think this is something I need to use my gift(s) to release.
As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, and various forms of sexual assault from male strangers and/or trusted partners in the club and in the bedroom that I thought I could trust and be respected by ranging from touching up my skirt cuz we were dancing together to taking the condom off in the middle of sex without asking... I am proud to say that it's taken a lot of healing to thrive, trust, and voice that I like being touched and reclaim it as a love language for myself. It has also taken much healing and unlearning to decipher and voice that I do not like being touched without my consent. It's quite triggering for me, because it activates a version of me that I am not and never was, but that was created from traumatic experiences. "I am not what has happened to me, I am what I choose to become" -Carl Jung
It's taken a lot to feel safe in my body, and to feel safe and worthy of physical pleasure, most specifically sexual pleasure that is not at my own expense or primarily for someone else's benefit. And we all know healing isn't linear, so it's a constant check in and exploration of and within myself. And every time I do something new, and bold with my life (which is often, for each day is new and I am bold) I have to recheck that base level. This is something I've been diving into more in solitude in Japan because this is most new and daring venture yet, it's just me, and I deserve to know, love, appreciate, learn, explore, and hold me! So this encounter, although it's taken almost a full day to process, has left me feeling unsafe as a spirit navigating the world in and through my physical body...and it's unfair and I am tired. I am triggered by the remembrance of the sound of this kiss, of the wetness, of feeling dirty from it and washing it off in a public bathroom to then come out and be "brushed up against" again. Mostly, I am saddened, that people do not care for other humans in a way that we all need: collective safety. that although men are sexually assaulted and transgressed against, they are most often times the abusers of safety in the form of physical and/or sexual assault. I am angry, that I didn't know what to say in the moment, that I didn't knee him in the balls, muff him, or tell security/head of the event and ask for him to be removed.
Anywho, many women feel like this often. In spaces where men float freely. Night and day. Sober or not. (I was completely sober, although that's irrelevant in this context.) Dressed conservatively, or not. (I was fully covered, in black, again irrelevant) I want better for us. I really do. And too many women, hell, people in general are carrying cases of assault in their minds and bodies but not voicing them for so many reasons. So maybe today, when you go in for a hug or a touch with someone, even if you know them, ask for their permission. Cuz you don't know what mfs been through. Permission is a reflection of agency, of choice... and we are all born with that; no one deserves for it to be taken away or ignored. Praying for us all ladies, truly, and also the men and the theys that experience this type of shit no matter how often. May we stand up for ourselves in the moment, whatever that may look like, confide in and lean on our loved ones, cry it out, take a beat, release and do like Maya Angelou says: "Still, I rise."
Thanks for listening lover. With all of my love, until next week...
Mrs. Jasmin Dominique Taylor
PS I am okay, still happy to be here and know how to deal with my emotions. Just a little shook. Say a prayer for me, prayer changes things <3
Comments