How Does She Remember and Why Didn't She Report

   I wasn't planning on doing this much writing about current events, however, there are certain topics I simply can't ignore. Some of the recent articles about the first woman accusing the nominee for the Supreme Court of sexual misconduct have caught my attention. (Yes, I'm aware I'm two accusers behind and that she is testifying today.)
   There are two things in particular that have me slightly steamed. One is the question of how she could remember her assault when he cannot and denies that it happened. The other is the question of why she didn't report it.
   I am going to answer those two questions today using an incident that happened to me. While what happened to me is not the same as what happened to her, I think there is enough similarity to make my point.
   When I was in seventh grade I was poked and groped from chest to waist by two or three boys during a home economics class. I was sitting in front of the teacher. The boys were sitting on either side of me at the same table. (We sat at long tables, not desks in that class.) I was working on our assignment for the day which was to sew a button onto a piece of cloth. It was a light colored medium sized button on a plain piece of light colored cloth. I was using white thread. At some point during the class, the boys who were sitting next to me at the table started to poke and grope me. I tried to discretely slap their hands away as I didn't want to make a scene in class.
  The teacher was sitting at her desk in front of me. Sometimes she was looking at her desk doing paperwork or maybe working on grades. Sometimes she would look up. A few times she looked straight at me. I couldn't understand why she couldn't see what was going on. Clearly, I couldn't work on my assignment because I was busy trying to push and slap at the hands that would not leave me alone.
  Sometime before the end of class, the boys stopped. I finished my assignment. It wasn't as good as I'd hoped, but it was the best I could do. We left to go to the next class.
   Why do I remember this so clearly? It's because it was a life-changing event. We all have events in our life good and bad where nothing is the same after it happens. One of the things that had happened was that a line had just been crossed. I was bullied in school starting at third grade. It had always been mean words and exclusion before. Now the bullies were getting physical. They could touch me. Before, I only worried about bullies breaking into my locker and stealing or destroying my schoolbooks and other property. Now I worried about what other physical things might happen to me. I no longer felt safe at school.
  From that time on I developed some defense mechanisms healthy and unhealthy to stay safe. Some of them I still have with me now, over 30 years later. One of those defense mechanisms is what I call the "hamster bubble". I keep at least 18- 24 inches of personal space around me at all times. If my personal space is invaded I will do anything from moving away to going into a full body flinch. I don't go to places where there are large crowds, because there is too much chance of others getting into my space. I have pressed up against walls and corners and have even used books or other objects as a shield to keep unfamiliar people at a distance.
   One time a few years back at a church picnic, I was talked into joining in a race with other people. There were two boards with straps on them like skis. Four people would strap onto each board and then race against others similarly equipped. I was in the middle. I gingerly put my hands on the shoulders of the person in front of me. The person behind me put his hands on my shoulders. It was an intense effort of will to not flinch. For most of the race I had to remind myself that it was all right, that the person behind me was not going to hurt me. Once the race was over I got off as fast as I could. I swore I'd never do it again.
   I guarantee that the boys who groped and poked do not remember doing it. Why should they? Nothing changed for them. They were just having a little fun during a boring class they probably didn't want to take.
   I'm going to draw on my expreince again and explain why something like this didn't/doesn't get reported.
   I did tell my mother what happenend. She went to the school. The only thing that happenend is that the school counselor I was seeing asked me about it. That's it. Nothing happenend to the boys. Nothing was done to help me feel safe again. My mother told me years later that one of the boys did call me and apologise, but I don't remember the call. It may or may not have happened.
  I can understand why a fifteen year old might not report what happened. Perhaps she wasn't where she said she was going to be. Maybe she was scared of retribution. Maybe she was afraid no one would beleive her (He's from a good family, he'd never do anything like this.) or maybe, like in my case she'd assume that nothing would be done, because no crime had been comitted. Boys will be boys. No harm done. (When my incident happenend groping was not illegal and bullying was something kids just did.)
   I'm grateful that times have changed enough that I can write an expanation like this without having to worry about what others would think. Hopefully, this will be instructive and help others to understand things from the side of one who has been mistreated. Maybe someone reading this with a similar expereince will realise that they are not alone.