All names have not been changed because fuck the guilty.
Years ago I witnessed a sexual assault and did nothing. I was working at night, this was 2012 or 2013, and there was this regular, Henry, Harry, whatever, I liked his dog, he was between 50 and 60 and a fucking scum bag. This girl came in with some friends, she was 24, attractive, tiny. She started talking to the scum bag and he was already pretty close to three sheets, but he was still coherent. They started with a normal conversation, her friends left, she stuck around. About an hour later he turned real ugly and that’s when the grabbing started.
*This is when things get very uncomfortable so take warning*
It started small, little pinches here and there, then full on molestation, grabbing, dragging on his lap. She kept on protesting, it got louder and louder, “Stop”, “I don’t want this” “please, just stop”, “get away”. I watched, looked at the bartender, he was doing nothing, everyone else in the place was doing nothing. The protests got louder, he got more aggressive. I was in shock, and because it was at the bar and not at the tables, I didn’t think it was in my authority to intervene. I didn’t think it was in my authority to intervene. Reading that makes me want to vomit then make myself drink it and throw it back up, then take that and pour it into my fucking eyes. I had to spend the next hour in the back because I was fuming. I was angry at him, I was angry at the bartender, I was angry at every other goddamn person in that place, I was especially furious at myself. The whole time I could still hear her. She eventually left in tears. Afterwards I protested to the bartender, “Why didn’t you do anything?” at that point every single canned fucking response you hear came out of his mouth.
“Look at her, she was liking the attention.”
“Look what she was wearing.”
“I did way worse in my day. How could I say anything?”
“They were drunk, get over it.”
No, I couldn’t get over it, three or four goddamn years later and I still can’t get over it. No matter what anger I have, no matter what disgust, is nothing compared to what she must have felt, what she probably still feels. I was the only goddamn person in that entire place who was angry enough to do something, who had the right mind to see this and know how fucking wrong it was, and I still didn’t do a god damn thing. For years it just sort of sunk back with the rest of the bad memories, but lately since I’ve been more active again and taking a stronger stance on things, it just jabs at my fucking neck. I still hear her protests, and I still remember the anger and disgust I felt. I lost a lot of respect for some people that night, the most of which was for myself.
The moral of this is, if you see something like that happen, fucking do something about it. Speak up, draw attention to it, help where you can. It happens plenty to the point where now I can’t look at a man and a woman, boy and a girl, whatever, together without checking for social cues, checking to make sure everything is okay. Then I wonder “What the fuck am I even going to do in that situation again?” Back then, I was an employee at the place where it was happening and I had some authority. If I see this shit happen on the subway? What the fuck am I going to do? I hate it, and I hate myself for it all the damn time. I can share however many posts I read, I can spread the word, I can support the right causes, but when it came down to the one chance I could have, I don’t know, saved the night, I didn’t do shit. This is a symptom of a broken fucking society. I’m going to do what I can, but this shit will always fucking kill me.
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