We were having lunch on October 20. That room-service grilled cheese was among the better grilled cheese sandwiches I have ever had in my whole life— it was a double-stacker with cheddar cheese and despite the room-service delivery, the bread was not soggy at all. Perfect temperature, too. I guess that’s what you get with luxury hotel room-service.
There was a client call to make. I offered to step out of the room. He said it wasn’t necessary. He called two minutes late; I had to remind him he had to make the call because we were busy talking.
I listened as he made the call to the client in question. They were on speakerphone, so I heard all.
And as I sat there chomping on my grilled cheese sandwich, slightly concerned the party on the other end of the phone would hear my chomping, I sat, thinking about the absurdity of it all.
This guy made a power play by giving client advice, right in front of me, on speakerphone.
He gambled that I would remain silent for the call. And, I did.
I did not ask questions. He offered just enough information after the call to let me figure out later exactly who he had been talking to, though.
It was a reckless show of pretend power by a very arrogant man with the maturity of a 11-year old boy, showing off to me.
It reminded me of sitting in his office in the late winter or early spring of 2000, transcribing bits of his cornerstone paper.
It didn’t take me long to realize exactly what had happened, or exactly what it all meant.
It didn’t take me long to realize that we had come full-circle from November 12, 1998.
It was later that afternon that he asked if I wanted to show him the concerning skin spot that led to my recent diagnostic mammogram and ultrasound.
It was later that afternoon that he asked if I ever dressed up as a school girl for my husband.
And it was about the middle of watching the movie “Uncle Buck” with him that I realized the entire situation was absurd; that he was not interested in substantively helping me with my job search or with career advice. He was not even really interested in being my friend.
He was interested in himself. And that was pretty much it.
It’s a tired trope, isn’t it? I mean, isn’t it the most tired, boring stereotype that a lot of men fantasize about being with a school-girl in the bedroom?
Apparently it is something alive and well, nonetheless.
And it never, ever occurred to me, though I suppose it should have, that I have, for the entirety of my adult life, been the object of that precise fantasy. A fantasy that did actually play out in real life 27-22 years ago.
The realization hit me like a mild ton of bricks a couple of weeks ago.
It’s so boring though, isn’t it?
I’m going to talk about something personal here— I mean, we don’t need fantasies or games or role playing fantasies in my marriage. Just saying. That bond is just that intense, that real for us.
So when, recently, the person I talked about in my last post suggested that I should perhaps “dress up as a school-girl,” for my husband…. I remained silent, as I recall, and said no, when he asked if I ever do that.
Because I don’t. The honest truth is, I absolutely 100% do not have to.
Of course, it was none of his business, but that was beside the point. I knew that too, and I know harassment when I see it. I may not have known it 27 years ago at 18 years old, but at 46 years old I 100% do now.
And I recently have actually started wearing my hair in pigtails, actually, at 46 years old.
And I realize I do look slightly younger than my age anyway.
And I realize too that even though the pigtails are legitimately the best way (and most comfortable way) to put my hair up at its current length:
I am aware of the stereotype that hairstyle, especially at my age, feeds into.
sigh
Except when I was an actual college student, I ignored the possibility that I was being objectified.
I was so desperate for positive male attention. I was so very desperate to escape the emotionally manipulative relationship I had been in for so many years at that time that, to be honest: my standards were not high. I was attracted to what I read as confidence at the time, that I so clearly see now was exhibitionist narcissism.
And that’s the honest truth of how I let myself become objectified for so many years: I wanted to only be with one person sexually forever, and it happens that something unfortunate happened and I latched onto someone who objectified me.
And it’s true that that happened to me at age 19 while I was in the midst of a psychotic episode.
And for years, after I realized the truth of that situation in 2010, I really and truly thought I was the defective one.
But that is clearly not the case, in so many ways.
I was ill but I was in no way defective.
My character was not defective. Still isn’t.
Except now I am 46 years old. And I pay close attention to what happens around me. Especially when intimate details regarding my marriage are questioned, except it’s funny because actually, my particular husband would 100% find that particular old school-girl trope completely repulsive.
Because he has no perverted tendencies at all; my Jared is the real deal for sure.
And, you know what? I didn’t actually wear my hair in pigtails when I was in high school or college. I was much more likely to go for a french braid.
So, I am going to wear my pigtails, at age 46.
And I am going to hold my head high, knowing that I stuck up for that college-aged version of myself that didn’t know she needed to be protected.
And I am going to write my stories, and I am going to continue to get stronger and stronger. Because I am no longer afraid; I realize I was never the one that was defective; and I am on a rampage of telling my truth.
I originally wrote this post in early February of this year, first posted on my personal Facebook profile and then published to a local group. It’s still an issue I feel very passionate about, and so, it’s time for it to make it to my blog. I don’t often step into activistic type shoes, but this is an issue I feel extraordinarily passionate about.
I have something to say about the picture above, and before I say it, I want to add a little context:
My family roots expand the entirety of the geography from rural Polk County to rural Henry County, Georgia, clear back to the early 1800s. As such, I am very very, very well aware of the interpersonal, social, and political dynamics at play that have brought us to this day and the situation as I see it.
My own personal work experience includes very behind the scenes work with organizations such as Atlanta Habitat for Humanity, Fernbank Museum, DFCS, and the AmeriCorps organization in a VISTA capacity (twice, actually), with both the American Red Cross and the Regional Commission network in conjunction with the State of Georgia, along with several private organizations from insurance companies to doing clerical and custodial work for a carpet cleaning company, and I’ve even done intermittent Door Dash in the last two years. My professional and lived experience spans a geographic area of approximately 950 miles, between here and Iowa. I have been a Carroll County resident for 36 of my 45 years.
And, I did happen to spend five years of my life doing a very intensive study of liberal arts subjects in a variety capacities at Georgia State University with religious studies being my major of choice.
As such, please do take note that I know a little bit of what I’m talking about both from a personal and a professional standpoint.
What follows is a repost of a post that I made yesterday on my personal Facebook page along with the corresponding picture that I’m posting here.
I might add that in addition to the personal correspondence that I sent Michelle Morgan approximately 3 weeks ago as I reference in this post, I did point out the value in anonymous volunteer contributions along with monetary support and professional photographic recognition, because of the fact that personally I take severe offense to the fact that her personal mode of operation is showing up for photographic opportunities and giving money to the causes that she supports without actually intervening personally in the work they are doing. Personal volunteer work is invaluable to character development and that is a cornerstone of my life’s work, so I do understand firsthand the impact of being very involved in the actual work of an organization in a volunteer capacity can have on one’s life, personally. I have been forever transformed by my own volunteer endeavors.
The whole way one acclimates and changes in this world is getting to know “the other,” in whatever capacity “the other” might show up in your personal life. I know that firsthand, too.
And you know, I also happen to know because I know my history. I know my personal family history. I know the history of area. I know my own personal history and understand the dynamics of what has brought me to believe in what I believe in. I know that Southern women are typically described as having innards of steel, and that is true for my spirit, undoubtedly. But in my particular case, it actually happens to be legitimate, biological fact that I have a great deal of stainless surgical steel in my body, so it is not just a metaphor for the fact that I will stand by my values and beliefs to any extent necessary.
It is high time that Carroll County, Georgia get its act together and live in the year 2025. I suspect the City of Carrollton itself began this process of reconciliation quite some number of years ago.
And for historical reference just for general knowledge purposes, the Confederate statue at the corner of that courthouse complex is not even a Confederate soldier, because the people who purchased it at the time only had the money for mass produced artifacts that were only tangentially representative of their views. It was very much a power-play, playing to the side of powerful angry white men whose status quo was being threatened at the time: the erection of that statue at that specific moment in history.
Know your history. Know your own personal history and confront your personal demons; know the history of your area, get to know your neighbors well– and your neighbors are not just the people who live literally next door to you.
We are all people and we have so much in common.
It is intense work but so very well worth it.
And I might add: the fact that I have the voice that I have now is very much a testament to the value of a liberal arts education, though my unique life and professional experience is what allows me to speak out and be particularly passionate about social justice.
Here is what I said in my Facebook post:
I have so many thoughts. I do understand that not everyone can dedicate five years of their lives to an intensive liberal arts education program like I did. However; I sincerely wish that 3-Day seminars on at least the Race and Ethnic Relations, Interpersonal Psychology, and half my religious studies classes but especially that preciously sacred Modern Judaism class…. I desperately wish that was all required seminar at both vocational and university levels, required by the Board of Regents for any degree receipt.
I actually wrote Michelle Morgan about this very issue approximately two weeks ago.
It is wholly inappropriate for any decoration to ever be placed on this lawn. Of any type.
It is highly disrespectful that the building is ever lit up with any light other than plain white light.
This building should be treated with the sacredness of a Holocaust museum because that is precisely the sacredness these grounds carry.
There shouldn’t even be office space in that building. It should be the place of silent tours as to the horrors of history of this County.
It is particularly appalling that the decorations face the side of the building that has the Confederate flag facade in the top middle, complete with its 13 stars, to this shameful day.
I’m done being quiet about bigoted and racist shenanigans. Done.
It is pure ignorance (or equally likely nefarious intolerance) that leads to places like this country we all love finds itself in today.
And, it is because liberal arts programs are being intentionally eliminated (I am sorry, I call it like I see it), that b.s. like this happens.
(Added in edits for this post: )
[The very nature of education in liberal arts areas of study is what allows for the very natural development of critical thinking skills: in other words, your ability to think for yourself and suss out what is worth absorbing information-wise in the world, and what is not.
And these programs are being eliminated nation-wide because certain segments of conservative powers that be do not want its citizens thinking critically for themselves, or being empowered to speak out. The intense progress in STEM areas of study is a convenient excuse to reinforce the elimination of these programs.
At least, to my educated observation, that is precisely what is happening.]
But, I am a law abiding tax paying business owner and resident (and added for this post: property owner) of this city and county.
So, I am going to exercise my voice as I see fit.
I tried to encourage enlightenment by suggesting diversity training to Michelle Morgan. My lovely friends with Fearless Dialogues would be the perfect match for the County Commission.
I tried to communicate this idea in the nicest way possible directly, in private.
Since my message was not considered, here it is in a more public forum.
If you are new around here, you can read more about me on my About page. Welcome!
Update October 2025: The lawn decor continues periodically.
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