This particular evening she sent me and the boys aged 1 year younger, 3 years older, and 7 years older downstairs to play while she made dinner. Upon arriving downstairs the oldest boy asked if I wanted to play strip poker. Now, being a naïve 7 year old, I didn't know what the "strip" in strip poker meant, but my spidey senses told me I better clarify. So I asked, and the answer I got was, "you know, STRIP poker." No, I didn't know, and I kept asking and kept getting the same answer. And just to make it feel a little more hinky, I was informed that if I agreed to play I wasn't allowed to quit until the game was done.
After the round and round of trying unsuccessfully to get clarification as to what exactly this card game entailed, and getting badgered by 3 boys I finally agreed to play. As S shuffled the cards he explained that whoever last the round would have to take an item of clothing off (Oh! I get it...STRIP poker), but just incase their mom came down we just had to take off our clothes long enough to show everyone then put our clothes back on. I immediately rescinded my consent upon realizing what kind of game this was, but was informed that since I had said I would play I was not allowed to not play, and my arguments that I didn't know what the game was was met with, "Well, you shouldn't have said you would play then." And what about the fact that I didn't know how to play poker; well, no worries because P was going to help me.
And so, thinking I had no choice to play, the card game began. Interestingly enough, I lost every round even with P's help. And as each round progressed, so did my humiliation, and shame. And each time the cards were dealt I begged that they let me go upstairs, but my protests, and my discomfort were no concern of theirs, and their solution was that I should just enjoy watching as my fellow losers took of their clothes. But I had no interest, or curiosity in seeing any of their bodies, just humiliation and disgust.
When we got to what would be the last round, and the losers were going around I begged not to have to do it, but I was informed that if I didn't remove my clothes they would do it for me. In either his misguided attempt to make me feel better about it by watching the oldest, or some twisted enjoyment of my repulsion at seeing his brother S, P pulled my hands away from my eyes and turned me toward his brother and wouldn't let go until I opened my eyes. So I begrudgingly peeked and got it over with. And I had seen penises before; living on the prairie men are more likely to pee on a bush than go into the house to use the bathroom, so the accidental viewing when rounding a corner isn't uncommon, but I had never seen an erect penis, nor did I understand that whole process, but I was disturbed at what I saw in the brief second I looked at S. Looking back and realizing how much worse this could have been, I'm grateful that this was the end of the "game" as their mother called us up for dinner.
But this little adventure in fuckery apparently opened a door into SA for S. As we trekked up the stairs, S came up right behind me, and flung his hand between my legs with such force so he could grope my crotch that he knocked me off of my feet. And from that day forward, whether we were at his house, or at school (yes, with plenty of witnesses around) until he left for the Navy he would repeat this behavior, and no amount of telling him off would phase him-he would just laugh in my face and play innocent, "What? I didn't do anything!"
When I blog about shit I often try to find some silver lining, or positive lesson I've learned, but fuck that shit. What I learned, and a lesson that was repeated is that my boundaries as someone who inhabits a female body will not get respected by males. What I've learned is that when I say "no" to men, no matter how forceful, in the end if I don't comply I will be physically forced to comply. And more importantly, I've learned that they will never be held accountable (nor will they take accountability), and I just need to not make a "big deal" of it.
In broad-fucking-daylight in front of multiple witnesses. And still we are asked, "why didn't you report it."
