Raided.

I once asked a guy out for dinner on the street of LA.

As I walked to a subway station under noon light, a man caught me into his arms. He started a kind of sweet talking that crawled needles into my bones, sharp like sarcasm and threat. My body felt unusually small against his muscular stature, unusually sandy when his hand stroked my hair and face with deep desire. The moment he noticed my hand had retreated into my pocket, his brows furrowed and a tone of aggression stained his voice red. He demanded me to show him my hands and I told him I wanted to meet for dinner, with smiles and a phone number as a promise. We bid goodbye quickly and he called within 6 seconds to check if I had not misremembered my own contact. My phone rang so he was pleased. I walked away with nonchalant steps that felt heavier than a storm.

The moment I was out of his sight, I ran as fast as I could to the station. That man was a stranger and in that moment a sexual harasser to me.

What's significant about this story is how common it is. Ask any friend and we may discover a library of instances. I have experienced multiple sexual assaults from strangers and a dozen more from acquaintance and friends.

Each assault made me feel gross out in my body. Like a house suddenly occupied by unwanted people thus the owner blamed herself for not being "strong enough" to hold the place secure. Like a temple being raided, a nation being colonized, each assault felt like a personal failure that broke my clarity and stability.