Dear... Man Who Was Supposed To Protect Me
Dad, last night was probably one of the worst nights of my life. You’re numerous beers in, had a long day of work, you see me minding my business. wearing jeans and a crop top; I felt confident, but not too much. I saw how you were looking at me, with disgust and guilt, almost as if you'd been let down.
When did I become a woman? When did my limbs become curved in just the right places? When did I become desirable without consent?
I became desirable in your son's eyes, and in your nephew's. In your old friend's and in your father's. Most men in your world have the habit of looking at me with intention, with hunger.
Do you remember the day I lost my innocence? When I became a little too mature at just 10 years old? Do you remember how I cried every night? Well, I hadn't cried like that since yesterday. You see, I got better, dad. I became proud of my weight, of my looks. Off and on with disordered eating, self harm and a very bad outlook on men; I deserved to be proud of my progress.
But you ruined that. You ruined me. You ruined everything.
I told you not to touch me because I saw that same look in your eyes, I was terrified.
Weren't you supposed to protect me?
Fuck no.
I protect myself now. I protect the women in my family, in the grocery store, at the church picnic. Because frankly, dad; I have never felt safe once men became dangerous.