‘assault’

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Yes, I DO Have Sex!

7.13.10 | 3 Comments »

I have noticed a disturbing trend among women: we do not like to admit we have sex.

Even with “Sex and the City” films galore and Cosmopolitan magazine hitting newsstands every month, women struggle with straight up saying they have sex. I have no problem telling people I have sex; I don’t get shy or embarassed about it. Sex is a normal human behavior that almost everyone does at some point, so why act otherwise?

I’ve noticed the lack of admission that one has sex when I go to the doctor’s office. The first question I’m always asked at the doctor’s office is, “Are you sexually active?” I answer yes. Most women do not answer questions or ask questions about sex to their doctors honestly and openly because they are embarrassed or ashamed that they even have an “active” sex life.

The silence around sex is a product of the slut/whore dichotomy in our culture: women are viewed as virginal or sluts, with no room in between. So even though women have sex, we have to act like we don’t- because people want us to. The whole thing is incredibly stupid and problematic, and is evidence of the double standard women who have sex are subjected to. And it’s dangerous: women who are afraid to talk about sex are also likely not to ask for information about birth control or STIs, and they are also likely to resist tests or treatments for STIs. Rape is also a product of that dichotomy: women are labeled “sluts” or told that they “wanted it” if they’re sexually experienced, especially if that experience was with their rapist. There is a really fucked up belief that once a woman has sex, she is no longer worth anything and has no right to say no, and she must want all sex- even forced sex.

An April 2009 review of Jessica Valenti’s book “The Purity Myth” pinned the nail on the head:

Virgin or whore? According to current news and media, our generation can’t seem to decide. For every report of a young woman sexting nude photos on her iPhone, there seems to be another of girls pledging their abstinence at the Purity Ball across the street. Depending on who you ask, we’re either just saying no to hooking up, or living the Sex and the Citylifestyle, gossiping about sexual conquests over brunch, in between stocking up on emergency birth control. The message we’re getting is clear: for some reason, a woman’s sexual purity (or lack thereof) is not merely the choice or preference it is for men—it’s a reflection of her morals and values.

Women need to start owning their sexual activity. We owe it to our sisters that are struggling with STIs and sexual health, unplanned pregnancies, rape, and slut-shaming. We owe it to them to admit: yes- we do have sex! And yes, we enjoy it, and yes we will talk about it. The longer we keep quiet about sex, the longer our national, cultural, and political discussions about sex will be shut down, silenced, and disregarded. Our sexual experiences are important and valuable- and we deserve to be proud of our decisions to have safe, consensual sex with the partners we choose.

The Rape Myth: A Tool of Social Control

7.11.10 | 14 Comments »

Rape Crisis Scotland launched their Not Ever Campaign with a Public Service Announcement broadcasted for the first time during Brazil’s World Cup match two weeks ago:

I had to watch it like three times before I completely understood the accent, but unfortunately the scenario itself is not so foreign. A sexy woman is enjoying herself at a party – drinking some wine, laughing, being fabulous, maybe flirting a little – and a male bystander (presumably a stranger) seizes the opportunity to interject that her skirt indicates that “she’s asking for it.” The viewer is left to make an obvious observation:

Um, asking for what, dude? Asking for another drink? A stick of gum? Directions to the Scottish Parliament?

The short PSA illustrates the absurdity of the “asking for it” rape myth while placing due gravity on its pervasiveness. Yeah, the guy’s an idiot, but he’s also engaging in a pattern of violence, and the real problem is that our culture condones and encourages his violent behavior.

The “asking for it” myth is so deeply ingrained in our rape culture that it’s become second nature to most of us. Sexual violence is treated as an inevitable consequence of certain behaviors, and, when you think about it, that’s a pretty effective way of maintaining social control over women and other disenfranchised groups. We’re frequently asked to surrender our rights to even the most basic of human freedoms in order to avoid being victimized. Don’t live in that part of the city, you’ll get raped. Never walk alone at night, you’ll get raped. Don’t talk to strangers, wear revealing clothing, leave your doors or windows unlocked, take drugs, drink in excess, take public transportation, travel alone, or sleep around – because you will get raped. The list of don’ts goes on and on, each rule wildly impractical, blatantly inconsistent with actual statistics related to sexual assault, and specifically crafted to distract us from the culpability of rapists. Why do we have entire dossiers on How to Not Get Raped and no guidelines for How to Not Rape People? We need a cultural revolution.

I can just imagine the headlines:

Police warn rapists against crime.

Campus leaders urge students to engage in consensual sex.

Why is that message so absent from discussions of sexual assault? Why focus so much time and energy on training women to avoid danger while men walk around with carte fucking blanche? In thousands of ways, our culture has conditioned us to anticipate rape as a natural consequence of violating social norms. Rape myths serve to keep women out of the public sphere, and rape culture wants you to believe that the only safe place for a woman is her kitchen.

You have the right to live your life however you like without being subjected to violence. You have the right to live without fear. And no one has the right to violate you. Ever.

Greek Life and Sexual Assault: Challenging the Cycle of Violence on Campus

6.22.10 | 5 Comments »


The fraternity I founded is diverse in thought, heritage, and class; we are generally a progressive and feminist-leaning group of men. On my campus, and arguably most campuses here in the US, however, Greek Life is a system built on sexism and the objectification, shaming, and abuse of women. My friend was a first-year student pledging the largest sorority on campus: this story is about her experience. (I obtained her consent to write about this beforehand.)

One night while I was walking to my fraternity’s house, a friend called me asking to be picked up from a mixer. She sounded scared and wanted to leave. My brothers were willing to go, but I dismissed the possibility that there was anything to be concerned about. After a little while, a car pulled into our driveway driven by one of her sisters. She was in the passenger seat, and when she came inside she told me that she had been uncomfortable with the men at the mixer. They had made fun of her and her sisters, saying they were going to fuck them later, slapping them on the ass, and refusing to give her their address so that someone could pick her up. She tried to leave the room, but the brothers barred the door and told her she had to stay. She pulled me into the bathroom and I tried to calm her down, but I was far from calm myself.

One of the most offensive things about the entire situation was the assumed status of women at a fraternity party as possessions without any agency, only there to fuck them and unable to exercise their right to come and go as they pleased. This is a horror story we all hear often, but I’m still appalled it actually happens. Any connection between two people based on love and attraction needs to exist through freedom, and any act of coercion is not an act of respect, openness, or mutuality. I wanted to act on the situation and make some sort of positive outcome, and I reached out to the other fraternity in anger, expressing my frustration with their actions to a close friend in their chapter in hopes that I could get them to understand the true magnitude of their behavior.

But in the end, nothing happened. My friend’s sorority sisters blamed her for “starting shit,” said that she just shouldn’t have caused a scene, and they were banned from ever partying at that house again. Her sisters dismissed and blamed her. Sexism and objectification are built into greek life, so much so that a popular saying on campus is that the only purpose for joining a sorority is to “do arts and crafts and suck frat boy cock.” In the end, I was disappointed in the idea of “sisterhood” as fleeting and hurtful, cold and blissfully ignorant of the issues they could be taking effective steps toward improving. Greek life doesn’t have to be about coercion, assault, danger, or pain- and my brothers and I refuse to support, justify, or ignore any actions that are.

Tranie Baby!

6.17.10 | No Comments »

500_Tran2Hey readers, this is Tran aka @traniebabyy and I am a new intern for whereisyourline.org!! I am currently in Pomona, California, my wonderful hometown, for summer break. I attend Barnard College of Columbia University in New York City where I am certified as a peer educator for the Rape Crisis Anti-Violence Support Center. I first saw THE LINE when Marilla Li brought it to Barnard.

I grew up in a very sheltered home because Vietnamese culture tends to keep women and girls in the background as men are seen as the dominant person of the family. This meant that my parents allowed my older brothers to do whatever they pleased while I stayed home and did homework (which paid off I guess :D ). Because of this, I really did not have any exposure to a sex culture, and rape was definitely never a topic of discussion as I grew up. My own curiosity pushed me to break away from my parents’ conservative views and do my own thing. That’s pretty much how my nickname came about. My friends always called me tranie baby because it represents my confidence and determination to finish whatever goals I have plus it was just the thing to do in high school (add baby to the end of your name). I embraced the nickname because I really wanted to prove to my parents that I can be successful. It pretty much became my alter ego as I decided to move to New York for college.

In New York, I wanted to experience a different lifestyle and be able to better myself without the interference of my family. What drew me to this campaign is my own personal experience. I feel that my line was crossed on various occasions because my partner refused to ask if I was comfortable or they believed that alcohol had impaired my judgments, so they made the decision for me! I want to be able to help create a support system for all people to feel comfortable to voice their needs during sexual activities. I love learning creative ways to talk about using protection, saying yes, saying no – things we discuss at the Center.

I’m back home now, with my friends from high school. They grew up as sheltered as I did. We didn’t learn about consent, our bodies, violation, pleasure… This summer, I vow to help bring awareness, resources and ways to have these conversations, and show people that consent is where its at!

The Chosen Few: Lesbian Footballers in South Africa

6.12.10 | 1 Comment »

Lesbianfootballer

The World Cup has officially begun in South Africa. Recently BBC news featured a segment about the all-lesbian football club, The Chosen Few, in Johanasburg. Andrew Harding spoke with striker, Tumi Mkhuma about the football club and its importance as a support group for these lesbian athletes who are harassed constantly because of their sexuality. Tumi refers to her football teammates as family and Harding concludes that football is making a real difference for these women in South Africa.

As South Africa’s excitement for hosting the World Cup reaches its peak, these women remember Eudy Simelane, a member of the South African Women’s National team, who had been raped and murdered in 2008.

Eudy was murdered in what is called a “corrective rape.” They are targeted at lesbians, are horrifying, brutal, and continue to go on. Tumi told Harding,

Homophobia is rising, really rising. I’ve been through a lot in this community. I even have wounds in my body from being attacked for being lesbian.

Tumi knows who her rapist is and sees him in her neighborhood, yet justice has yet to be served. She is forced to see this man who brought trauma into her life, and nothing is being done to put him in jail. With the rise of homophobia, the team sticks together.

Take Action! Show your support and sign the petition to end corrective rapes.

Hee Hee Wasn’t I Naughty? Ugh.

5.24.10 | No Comments »

In the last week, I’ve experienced men violating my space and body twice – one was in a dentist’s office, where the DDS copped a feel as I was getting out of the chair, the other was in a crowded auditorium – same m.o.  I didn’t say anything either time because – what could I say in those situations?
Then I feel angry and shitty all week.  It’s not rape, it’s not assault, but it still crossed my line and I don’t like it.  It’s some power thing with men that they have to claim space as their own, even yours, and add a little hee-hee, wasn’t I naughty into that.  Now I don’t feel safe going anywhere.

Hooking up – A Chat with Jaclyn Friedman

5.6.10 | 1 Comment »

500_2 or more

When Jaclyn Friedman responded to my love letter in October, I was, to say the least, ecstatic. She’s an inspiration, a feminist visionary and co-editor of the hailed Yes Means Yes! Anthology, and is already working on her next project, a book called What You Really Really Want: The Smart Girl’s Guide to Sex, Safety, and Sanity In A World Gone Mad.” (By the way, the book is exactly what it sounds like- a workbook to help women decide what they want sexually and how to communicate it best.)

I wanted to talk to her about how we talk about rape culture, the idea of “the line” and what we call (or don’t call) “hook up culture”.

‘Hookup culture’ is bunk

Jaclyn said.

I like hooking up- casual sex is fine with me as long as everyone’s talking about it.

To Friedman, using the term “hook up culture” creates a smokescreen around the way young people are having sex and forming relationships, and she feels it brings the blame back on women.

It’s not a mistake to want to hook up with a guy. It is a mistake to rape somebody.

Friedman hopes that sexual interaction is eventually just accepted into mainstream culture, no matter how casual or involved. I wholeheartedly agree. Taking away the stigma from all forms of consensual sexual interaction makes for a healthier, non-hypocritical society, and something I work toward in my activism. But from my perspective, hookup culture isn’t just casual sex culture, it is different. And everyone is talking about it. What goes on here on my campus, and across the country, is indeed a phenomena (and not the Laura Session-Step slut-shaming kind).

Professor Caroline Heldman at Occidental College outlines some clear trends and statistics in her forthcoming research of college students. She tracks the end of dating culture and serial monogamy, emotional disconnect from the physical, and a rotation of partners. “Hooking up” is a temporary state: hookups come with no guarantees of second dates, of texts and calls, or even of other physical interactions. Hookup culture is the idea that the quantity of relationships is more important than the quality. I’ve written in the past about some of my own experiences navigating this constructed culture, and I know as a student that it is pervasive.

Not all colleges are alike, but for the most part we are in an environment where partying and drinking is standard, no parents or authority figures are to be found, and resources are scarce and often intimidating. Hookup culture is also a product of the 2.0 generation, a new culture to accommodate young people who are learning about each other online and hitting on each other over kegs. Hookup culture is not casual sex- it is more, or in some ways, less. It is casual, emphasized by the new idea of “friendship” and the already experimental culture of college campuses; it is casual, enhanced by alcohol, recklessness and often manipulated by the most sober person in the room. It is dangerous, and exciting, and it is a very real part of collegiate life.

Adults who engage in casual sex are participating, many times, in a system that accommodates different needs. Whereas adults engage in casual sex oftentimes for their own pleasure or even as part of the search for a committed or poly partner, students are hooking up to gain experience, experiment, and learn more about themselves through their own sexuality. Both casual sex and hooking up are – or should be- about pleasure and individual desires, as well as respect, but hooking up is much more removed from the spectrum of dating.

Friedman feels that the behavior is influenced heavily by the rape culture that surrounds us in our everyday lives. Whether you want to use the language, however, is not the point: Friedman and I agreed on every other point we discussed. Its clear that whether adults or teenagers are hooking up, whether you’re experimenting or set in your ways, seeking a partner or seeking a good time: you will be challenged by the cultural norms surrounding your pleasure.

And whether or not you’re Jaclyn Friedman, feminist extraordinaire, you can play a huge part in changing all of that by standing proud, expressing your desire, and placing respect on top of all of your priorities next time you hit the frat house.

Play Possum

4.18.10 | 8 Comments »

500_possumi was raped by a male “friend” in the presence of two other (male and a female) “friends” when i was 16.  it was a terrible way to lose my virginity.  i said no and weakly tried to push him away but then i FROZE.  i didn’t know this was one of a few normal ways to respond to a sexual assault:

IF SHES NOT MOVING, STOP!

American University, Assault & Activism

4.12.10 | 9 Comments »

500_AU EagleIt has been a long time since students at my college were organized, cooperative, and angry. But I go to American University, and our school paper, The Eagle, is infamous for publishing inflammatory and often antagonistic opinion pieces by a staff columnist- and last week, the columnist chose to write about sexual assault and date rape.

I’ve been working with Women’s Initiative, a campus group, and have regularly had to respond to pieces published by The Eagle and mobilize others to do so. At the beginning of September, the paper published the first of a regular series on sex and dating that told women at AU not to worry about drunk hookups: to think of situations where you couldn’t decipher where you were and what was happening as a growing experience, and not as assault. The column was chilling. In response I launched (con)sensual, a campaign based in artwork and social media that spreads knowledge of and encourages the practice of verbal consent in any and all sexual interactions. I’ve worked closely with THE LINE Campaign since last summer, and wanted to use my experience to begin an open dialogue on campus. I worked with campus organizers on getting the posters in residence halls and bathrooms and further mobilized and collaborated with other groups on speakers and events.

For this reason, words could not explain the frustration I felt when I discovered “Dealing with AU’s anti-sex brigade.” The article proposed a number of claims: that date rape was not a valid crime, that straight women deserved rape for going to parties, and that rape was an innate action and an unimportant issue. The Eagle was at it again! The author stated:

Let’s get this straight: any woman who heads to an EI party as an anonymous onlooker, drinks five cups of the jungle juice, and walks back to a boy’s room with him is indicating that she wants sex, OK? To cry “date rape” after you sober up the next morning and regret the incident is the equivalent of pulling a gun to someone’s head and then later claiming that you didn’t ever actually intend to pull the trigger.

“Date rape” is an incoherent concept. There’s rape and there’s not-rape, and we need a line of demarcation. It’s not clear enough to merely speak of consent, because the lines of consent in sex — especially anonymous sex — can become very blurry. If that bothers you, then stick with Pat Robertson and his brigade of anti-sex cavemen! Don’t jump into the sexual arena if you can’t handle the volatility of its practice!

I was horrified by the piece and its publication. I immediately worked on a letter for the editors, and submitted a rewrite of the entire piece that was focused on the importance of consent:

Let’s get this straight: any person who heads to a party and drinks five cups of the jungle juice is unable to provide consent. To justify manipulating someone who is inebriated, taking advantage of someone with physical threats, date-rape drugs, and coercion, and/or disregarding someone’s ability to enjoy or consent to sex is the equivalent of pulling a gun to someone’s back and shooting it in the dark.

I drafted a petition and form letters for others to send to the editorial board. I met with a collective of activists on campus and organized a multitude of efforts to spread awareness of the article’s false and harmful claims. The petition went out later that week, and began gathering signatures. I spent the week in meetings, collaborating and spearheading efforts to work on messaging, make the activists on campus a more productive and cohesive unit, talking to the press, and even being featured on the CBS Early Show. I re-launched (con)sensual, and the new hostile environment that emerged from this article rendered a destructive welcome for the newest shipment of artwork.

We are still working, however, in the aftermath of the piece. We have used the incident to push for a full-time, professionally-staffed Women’s Resource Center, and for the university to hire a full-time sexual assault counselor. I pledged as the WI Rape Awareness & Eradication Dept. Director to stop telling women how to not get raped, and instead educate my campus about the inequalities that create violence and urge them to be a part of a progressive cultural shift to eradicate that violence.

The impact sexual harassment has on the lives of all people, and especially women, is impossible to ignore. Rape is one of the most underreported crimes, and sexual assault is likely to occur to over 25 percent of women on every college campus. Sexual assault happens every day, and every second. For The Eagle to hold up rape excuses and justifications as journalism is revolting. The overwhelming fear of shame most women feel after being sexually assaulted is real and painful, and the memories of their rapes should not be used as tools to combat an oppressive publication. The Eagle, for too long, sold rape controversy to its readers, using it as an impetus for readership and a method to grab the attention of students. They have since apologized- but this entire incident made me aware how fleeting the tenants of respect, consent, mutuality, and communication have become on my own campus.

A Letter to Dave

4.1.10 | 9 Comments »

One year ago today, I lied to my parents and told them I was sleeping over a friend’s house when really I was going to see you. The lying really wasn’t a big deal; I had lied to them many times before whenever I wanted to see you. I was damn good at it too; they never even suspected that I wasn’t where I said I was. They had no idea that I had even kissed anyone, let alone that I was having sex with someone nine years older than me almost every weekend for a period of nearly four months. You can imagine how shocked they were when they found out.

I had always returned home safely and on time and everything always went according to plan. So why would I think that this time would be any different? Unfortunately, the evening of March 28, 2009 ended very, very badly for me. I was left wandering up and down a dark street at 2am crying in the rain in utter disbelief that I was in the situation that I was in.  Being raped and left in the middle of a bad neighborhood after midnight was something that only happens in the movies and to girls on the evening news…right?

Yes, Dave, I want to make clear to you that what happened that night was rape. Yes, I did go to see you specifically for the purpose to have sex with you. Yes, I know you were incredibly fucked up that night. Yes, it was somewhat consensual at the beginning, but what ended up happening is that you forced me to have painful sex (I would rather not call it sex, but I will for lack of a better word) with you that I did not want to have. You raped me. You told me that you do not remember what happened and that you do not want to remember what happened. However, I think that it is incredibly selfish of you since I have to live with the horror of what you did to me each and every day. You’re the one who should be in pain because of what happened, not me.’

You had me pinned against that dumpster in a position where I could not move. The back of my head, my neck and my spine were smashing into the corner of the dumpster so hard that I was covered in bruises the next morning. It was impossible to scream for you to stop because the air was pushed out of my lungs as my body was pressed against the steel. I was able to say “Stop” and “you’re hurting me” a good dozen times, but you ignored me. Once, you did respond to me by saying “Shut up, I don’t want to hear that.” You tried to convince me to have sex with your friends. You tried to get me to call you master. You told me that you loved me. You told me I couldn’t fall in love with you. You told me not to be “a fucking prude”.  You fucked me in the ass without permission and yelled at me to get up when I fell to the ground in pain. You came inside me without permission. You left me there. A part of me knew you weren’t coming back as I watched you walk away, but at the same time I couldn’t believe that you would leave me there, in a neighborhood filled with drug addicts and dealers and gang members. I tried calling you multiple times. I kept thinking this can’t be happening…this can’t be happening. One of the times I called, your phone answered by accident and I heard you telling your friends what happened.

…And then she was like no! (Laughter) I have to put my phone somewhere where I can’t hear it.

You try to tell me it wasn’t rape after a statement like that? I was so angry and confused that I decided that I was going to try to find your house. I found the address you had given me in my purse. I walked in the direction you walked in and I found the right street, I went up and down that street trying to determine which house was yours. I’m not sure what I planned on doing once I found you, but I know I wanted to hurt you. I never found the house and I thank God every day that I didn’t. As I looked for your house I also began to call my friends in hopes that they could pick me up. It was 2 in the morning; they weren’t awake and didn’t pick up their phones.

Do you have any idea how alone I felt that night? I ended up being forced to call my parents whom I had lied to. I asked them to pick me up at the 7-11 which was miles away from where I told them I was going that night. I walked there and sat on the ground and smoked a cigarette as I waited for my dad to arrive. The cashier from 7-11 came outside to have a cigarette. I probably looked like shit and my eyes were probably red from crying.

Are you okay?

That was the first time that night that anyone showed me any kindness. It touched me so much and I wish I could go back and thank him for letting me know that there were still good people in the world at such a horrible moment like that. I think I managed to choke out a yeah to him. He stood next to me until my dad got there.

I had to tell my parents everything. Do you know how painful it was for me to tell my parents not only about what you did to me but also to admit that I had been lying to them for months? My parents were just happy I was okay. After I got done telling them I went into the bathroom to take a shower. I undressed and looked at myself in the mirror. My flesh looked pale, cold and gross. I wished I could tear off my skin. I got into the shower and washed the shit from the inside of my thighs. I went to bed and cried myself to sleep.  You, David, made me feel so violated, so disgusting, so worthless and so defeated that I could not look at myself in the mirror again for weeks.  In fact, it was so painful to think about that I blocked the memory from my mind for months.

You called me the next day when I was at work crying. You were the one crying? You told me that due to your negligent indulgence in absinthe and who knows what else, you ended up in the hospital. You told me that you woke up on your porch without your wallet or the ring that tore into the opening of my vagina the night before. Good! I should have just hung up the phone, but I wanted the opportunity to scream at you. I went outside to the parking lot and yelled into the phone as customers walked by staring at me. I told you that I had trusted you and that you hurt me and that you left me there by myself and that I never wanted to see you again. I think that the main reason I stayed on the phone with you is because I was in denial about what actually happened; that it was rape. I think I felt that if we could work out what happened that night that it would just go away. You told me that you were sorry about what happened and that we could get together to talk about it. You never kept any of the promises you made and you thought I still wanted to have sex with you. You were never sorry. You were just covering your ass because you knew I could get you arrested.

I’m not a monster, but I acted like a monster last night

…you said. I believed you back then but now I know that a monster has always been a monster and will always be a monster. Drugs and alcohol had nothing to do with it, they did not give you the ability to rape me without hesitation; you were always capable of it. Now, I am able to pick out a monster from a crowd. I can see it in the way they walk, talk and move because I know how you walk, talk and move.

I used to blame myself for what happened. I used to think, Why didn’t I realize that he was a monster? Why did I let myself be put into that situation? I blamed myself for having such low self worth that I would ever sleep with you in the first place. The truth is that it is not my fault for having low self-worth; it is something that I have been taught by others throughout my life, including you. You took advantage of my vulnerability at a young age. You were 26 years old; you should have known better than to mess with the feelings of a (barely) 17-year-old virgin.  You knew that I could be easily manipulated and that is why you sought after me in the first place. I gave up my virginity and sexual dignity so that you could have sex with me, someone who you could easily take advantage of.

Since this past October, I have been experiencing nightmares and panic attacks that stem from my memory of that night on a regular basis. I get nauseous and scared whenever I see someone who looks like you. Everyday has been a struggle, but with the help of a therapist and friends I have made progress. However, I know that the memory of that night will always be with me and I will always be scarred. Although, now I’m realizing that I can transform the anguish and fear that I feel because of what you did to me into strength and a passionate, thriving and carnal fervor for life. I survived what you did to me. I’m still here. I appreciate every drop of sunshine and warmth, every hug, every listening ear, every smile and every act of kindness so much more because you brought me into a world where none of those things existed. I will never allow anyone to treat me how you treated me ever again. I don’t deserve it. I deserve a man so much stronger than you.

Skyla

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