As I type this, I immediately feel a sense of nervousness because I’m wondering the backlash I’ll get from the various men who think women saying me too is another form of “seeking attention” or being a feminist.

Then right about now, anger fills the place because how dare you believe for even a second that you’re justified in feeling annoyed that millions of women are finally speaking out about things that shouldn’t have ever happened.

Me too.

It’s a lot more than two little words. They hold so much power, many memories, and conflicting times we’d rather sweep under the rug and never revisit. But we have to. Not just for us, but for the millions and millions of girls who never felt they had a safe outlet to turn to. We deserve to be able to lean on one another, without feeling paranoid that the men who took advantage will resent us for being honest.

I promise, I won’t be quiet for anyone. It is my hope and dream that any girl out there won’t either.

A former Facebook friend of mine just wrote:

“To the girl’s saying “Me too” shut the fuck up, just because you were drunk at a party, doesn’t mean you didn’t want it to happen. You can’t use you being drunk as an excuse the next day for letting some guy sleep with you, and claiming “you never wanted it,” or "You all just want attention.”

It’s weird because I don’t remember being drunk as I walked the halls as a freshman while three guys cornered me and called me a slut. They wouldn’t let me out of their circle and they repeatedly yelled things at me like, “you’re just a slut, that’s all you’ve ever been.” I was a virgin at the time, these three guys were not.

As I finally got away, they slapped my ass and continued calling out horrible names as I walked down the hall. My face was so warm, and in that moment, I couldn’t imagine ever losing my virginity. I was so worried that the day I did, it would get 10x worse. They were calling me a slut and I hadn’t even slept with anyone yet, Imagine what they’d do or say if I actually did.

I wasn’t drunk.

I was wearing jeans, a sweatshirt and slip on shoes.

My hair was in a messy bun, and I hardly had any makeup on.

I wasn’t wanting that attention.

I didn’t ask for that attention.

And I sure as hell didn’t deserve that “attention.”

That’s beside the point though because even if I wore a strapless shirt that showed my cleavage, my hair curly, makeup done perfectly, a form-fitting skirt with high heels, I still wouldn’t deserve it then either. I think that’s what you boys don’t get.

Girl’s are not asking for it; not from what they wear, how they talk, what they drink, or how they act. Have respect for women like normal, civilized humans. Stop making up your own rule book on how you think things should be handled.

Me too.

I wish I could tell you I could count on both hands how many times someone has slapped my ass as I walked down the hall or grabbed at me, but I can’t. It exceeds both my hands, and probably yours too. I wish I could tell you that it was only a high school thing, but it has followed me to jobs, and daily routines I’d never thought I’d have a problem with.

I walk through Pittsburgh in complete fear that someone will say something to me, and I won’t react the way they want, and they’ll result to yelling at me or swearing at me.

These are real things people have said to me:

“Your boy better hold on to you a little tighter before I come up and fuck you.”

“Damn, I’d love to be with you for a night.”

“Nice ass, I hope your boyfriend fucks it right.”

All of which I keep my head down, in fear that if I look them in the face the wrong way, maybe they’ll react how the others did last time.

“You think you’re too good for me you dumb bitch? Fuck you, you stupid ****.”

I wish I could tell you I didn’t know anyone who has ever been raped.

I wish I could tell you I could count on only one hand how many friends/loved ones I’ve had that have been raped, but I can’t do either.

I wish I could tell you that they’re the same person, with no physiological or emotional shit going through their head every time they make a decision, but I simply can’t.

YOU took that from them. You made them appear so small in a world where they had the potential to be so big.

Screw you for that, seriously, screw you a thousand times again and again –– I won’t wish that on you without your consent because what kind of monster would do that, right?

I’m not allowing myself to not have a voice anymore. I will speak up for myself and those around me because I don’t give a damn how you think I should act or what you think I should wear. I could give two shits whether or not you feel a girl was “too drunk” or gave you “mixed signals” because unless ANY OF US give you our consent, don’t touch us inappropriately, don’t ask us for “pictures of our tits”, don’t say we’re only good for one thing. Treat us with respect, or don’t talk to us at all.

I hope the day never comes where one of you has a daughter who has to walk in the shoes of the girls you’ve tormented, bullied, and sexually assaulted over the years. I don’t wish that for them, just like our dads never wished it for us.

I mean, wouldn’t you be pissed?

Yeah?

Huh...me too.