They’re used to being the center of their own narrative. They’re used to being given what they want. They’re used to being allowed to bully and harass the little girls all they want without consequences. It’s the little girls who are told not to react because the little boy is just looking for a reaction, it’s the little girls who are told to manage the way they respond to abuse. We don’t tell the boys to stop harassing. We never tell the men that what they’re doing is harassment. How could we? The narrative is stacked against us.

What if I told?

Well, then I’d be fighting everyone. Fighting the narrative that says this doesn’t happen to good girls. Fighting the women who have only found their own safety in shadows. Fighting the men who’s reputation is at stake. Fighting the organization who’s reputation is at stake. Fighting my own trauma and fear and boiling rage and urge to vomit.

It’s Easier

To let the fight die. To simply die.