When women feel that hand begin to creep

[Yo_Mama_Been_Loggin]

The arm went around my shoulder. Then the hand began to creep, farther and farther, down the neckline of my dress. I was 20, at a fancy dinner for my college newspaper. The hand belonged to a grown-up — make that supposedly grown-up — editor. An editor from whom I wanted a summer job.

I would like to tell you that I removed said hand and told its owner in no uncertain terms what he could do with it or, more to the point, couldn’t. But I can’t. My response, as I recall, involved some combination of resigned submission to this uninvited pawing and strategic wriggling out of reach.

Reader, I got the job. I went on to enjoy a cordial professional relationship with this man. Neither one of us mentioned the incident. Alcohol was involved, and I suppose I chalked up his misbehavior to that. Making a fuss seemed unwarranted and, even more, self-defeating.

The episode wasn’t traumatic, not even close. Indeed, by the standards of the tens of thousands of tweets shared in recent days under the hashtag #notokay, it was mild.

Now, 38 years later, it feels more humiliating than it did back then. I am embarrassed by the meek complicity of my younger self, shamed to the point of being wary of revealing it to my daughters, now college students themselves. I like to believe they would not sit still, literally, for such treatment.

This is a story I rarely share, because I feel it makes me look as bad as my groper. Before this column, I have told it precisely once in public, when I was invited back to the college newspaper’s banquet as a guest speaker. But the moment stuck, as these moments do for the many women who have endured them and then tucked the memory away.

https://www.washingtonpost.com/opinions/when-women-feel-that-hand-begin-to-creep/2016/10/14/cd5b8cd2-9234-11e6-9c85-ac42097b8cc0_story.html?utm_term=.ab0c02747a61&wpisrc=nl_rainbow&wpmm=1#comments

[SharonAnn]

1. Yes, I was also young and in situations like that. It was something we had to handle individually.

There was no supportive environment for us to go public.

Now, I would say "Get your hands off me!". But then, I'm not likely to get groped at my age.

So I'll settle for keeping an eye out for predators of young women and say "Get your hands off her!".

[annabanana]

2. This is surely the story

of most women who have needed something from a predator.

[Ilsa]

3. I actually received an apology from someone

in a much higher position who played with my knees during a dinner. Everyone had too much to drink. He apologized and I told him not to worry about it, I understood, and we never had to revisit it. But too many others pawed me and never apologized or acknowledged how inappropriate their behavior was. Those men I avoided.

[forgotmylogin]

4. What's a good way to deal with this?

Make sure he realizes he's doing it if it's alcohol induced?

Loudly: "Oh goodness, your fingers are so cold Mr. Jones! <move his arm conspicuously where it belongs> Hopefully the appetizers will warm you up better than my leg! <chuckle, making meaningful eye-contact to others at the table>"

Second time: "Mr. Jones, the hot-braised chicken glaze might not come off of my skirt, but your hand will. If you'll excuse me. Have a lovely rest of your evening! <leave and wait with greeter for your cab>"