I'm going to warn you right now, I am not entirely certain where this blog is going to go. I just know that I experienced something awful last night and it kept me from getting a decent night's sleep. It also made me feel completely rattled and shaken and yes, it made me cry. It made me cry way too much quite frankly. I am a big supporter of a good cry to get stuff out, but this was inexplicably disturbing crying. I really should not have been that distressed in my opinion. I like to think of myself as stronger than that. I like to think of myself as being equipped to handle adversity as grown up who is capable of realizing that what happened has nothing to do with me and everything to do with someone who'd had too much to drink and was being a pig.
But it really upset me and I kept replaying it in my head. You know how it is: you replay the event and suddenly all the amazing and empowered ways you could have handled the situation come pouring into your head.
But none of those scenarios played out because I froze. I mean my body went completely rigid in shock. I could not move until this douchebag took his hands off of me and I was free to flee to another area in the restaurant. I still had another song to finish the set and I was hoping that my distracted demeanor was played off as being tired from dancing for 20 minutes straight. I hoped that my shaking was hidden by the shimmies.
I suppose I should backtrack slightly. You see, I am a belly dancer. I've written about how much I adore belly dancing and what it has done for me both psychologically and physically in past posts. Belly dance is sensuous and beautiful and it makes me feel entirely feminine and graceful and lovely. I've been performing at a local restaurant with other dancers for a few years now and never before have I ever felt the humiliation or degradation I felt last night. I am used to people either being fascinated by or too scared to look at me when I dance, but I am not accustomed to being treated as an object to be debased.
I'm not entirely convinced blaming alcohol is enough of a consolation either. Him. Not me. He had obviously imbibed a bit before we started dancing, but that does not make it ok to do what he did. In public. In front of his date. In front of my fellow dancers. To me.
Standing there with his finger pulling back the waistband on my skirt, gazing down at my exposed backside and then telling me in my ear that he, "Just came. I just came all over you," paralyzed me. I felt immediate panic and nausea and all I could do was flee. Even now, my heart is beating fast and my breath is shallow as I write about it.
And I still had at least 5 minutes of the set left to dance.
I've worked so hard to recover from the shame and confusion of having been a victim. I truly thought that if ever I was in a situation where someone touched me inappropriately or made uncomfortable advances that I would have the courage to say, "Back the fuck off you insufferable bastard." But I didn't. As I felt his eyes leering at me I was once again a trapped little girl too confused and crippled to move or mount any kind of defense.
How dare he. How dare he think it is ok to do that to another human being. How dare he try to rob me of my confidence and security.
I don't know what to do now. My lead dancer spoke to him about etiquette during the meet and greet rounds that we do afterward, but she didn't know the whole story. If she did, I think she would have ripped his head off and brought it to me as a trophy. She may be small, but I think she's got the power of the Furies if crossed.
For today, I shall breathe in and breathe out. I shall look for the good things in this day like the New Wave station on Pandora, a little demon ass-kicking, some reading of my novel, my husband, friends, and family who are outraged on my behalf and offer their support, and chocolate. Yes, chocolate is a must have.
Time to live in the present. In the here and now I am safe, secure, and loved.
