CW: sexual harassment, sexual assault

I have been scared for most of my life. I am scared of the boy on the bus who sits down next to me even though there are plenty of free seats. His hand is on my leg and I try to convince myself it’s an accident. I am scared of my housemate who looms above me, and when he shows me how much stronger than me he is, it makes my heart jump. I am scared of the men I work with who laugh about lad nights out and their pack mentality. I am scared of the man who walks behind me in the dark as I come home from town and I pull out my phone, pretending I am talking to someone, praying he will go away. I am scared of my cousins who make jokes about girls in the kitchen and comment on the length of the skirt of a girl we know, forgetting that she is underage, not realising they are sexualising a child. I am scared of the tutor who seems a little too smiley and wants to see me alone and logic tells me there is no reason to be afraid but past experience tells me otherwise. I am scared of my lecturers who rush through slides on feminism and who do not condemn students who scoff and say how unnecessary it all is.

I am scared of the man double my age who held me down on his bed and put his hand up my dress and only stopped when I fought him off and ran.

I am scared of the boy who continued to have sex with me after I told him not to, after I cried out no, after I tried to push him away.

I have been scared for most of my life and now I am very scared for my daughters.