Steel Backbone
He jumped from the other side of his desk and within seconds he was sitting next to me pawing, pulling, tightening his grip around my waist and flinging his face to one side or the other to plant his hungry, unabashed lips on mine. I didn’t see it coming. My brain couldn’t fathom what was happening at the instant he grabbed my breast. The boss I supported and about whom I gave many accolades to others became a vision of fire. The man who gave me the opportunity to expand in my professional career and in whom I trusted, in one minute, obliterated any sense of who I thought he was.
I was 24 and he, middle age and a powerhouse in the company. Never a flirt nor did he show signs of a womanizer. But this one late afternoon, something snapped in him and he lunged with a voraciousness of a tiger in heat.
The flight or fight mechanism in me kicked in. I fought, I kicked, I pushed as sweat dropped off my face as my heart was racing! I’d not been in a similar situation before but the Mama Bear in me left no prisoner! No one was going to take from me that which I was not willing to give!
Pushed up against the wall I raised my knee and shoved it into his groin. As he bent in pain, I ran out of the office to a place where I could breathe and regain my balance.
After much thought, time to regroup, and going over every detail of my encounter, I returned to the office on Monday. I faced the patriarchal confines of a system not yet accustomed to women facing their predator. And I faced him. I faced him this time like an African wild dog ready to pounce but with a cool, stoic demeanor of a woman empowered to stand tall. He understood my body language and clearly understood the words that so eloquently poured out of my mouth. I continued to work for him for five more years without having ever to recite the words of caution I outlined for him years before. And in this I gleaned a life long lesson.
Sweat beaded my forehead and slowly poured down my face as my heart was racing when I first started to write this. The sun a great excuse for the summer heat but, really, a reaction to muscle memory I thought long ago healed.
What caused me to reenter the tiger’s cage that Monday years past? Perhaps it was the conviction of not being pegged a victim. Or, perhaps it was blind stupidity; or, a resolute to make my way as a women with some kind of power, grit; or an unconscious decision to survive! Or, perhaps, it was the competitive nature that he was not going to win and I was not going to lose.
I’m reminded that my grandmothers were strong women as family legends goes. They fought their wars and mended their broken bones. From this clan of matriarchs, my mother helped create in us a steel backbone. Stoic and resolute, nothing or no one was going to topple her over. Her belief that one has to push forward through thick and thin was well established in her ancestral genes. Mama stood strong against the hurricanes that, on occasion, ravaged her heart and her home.
And at what cost, dear Mama? At what cost? Life can be viewed as a war zone where strategies to survive are planned out daily. The will and might to face each morning in a struggle can be depleting and terminal. The greatest of these, the fear to face our own humanity, our shadow.
I vividly remember the sweat pouring down my face, my heart racing as I faced the man who without provocation decided it was OK to sexually assault a young woman - a woman he underestimated could or would fight back. The steel backbone of perseverance, of righting a wrong, of standing up for herself by not becoming a victim astounds me today. How strong she was and how courageous.
My maternal grandmothers were strong women as our family’s legend goes. In this I know to be true of me.
They fought their wars and mended their broken bones. In this I know to be true of me. Though sweat may pour down my face as my heart races, I can fight a good fight, climb a steep incline, and honor the woman within!