This post is a continuation of yesterday’s post.
As I stated in yesterday’s post, I early voted last week.
I took my Munch to dinner at his favorite Japanese Steakhouse and then we headed to Southern Regional Tech to go and vote. He was so patient. He knew the importance of voting and he wanted me to vote for his choice. Not the one that didn’t represent him.
We walked into the gym and he began to yell to everyone in the gym “Don’t vote for Trump.” I laughed and then began to explain that he can’t influence the voters. He whispered, “Mommy, make sure that you vote for Hillary.” I smiled. I was one lucky momma.
Munch went over and sat on the bleachers and waited for me to finish voting. The lines were long, but it was moving and he was so patient. I saw him sitting there talking to one of the election workers. An older gentleman who looked like he was in his late 60’s. Munch was really chatting it up.
I asked Munch what he and the man were talking about. Munch said, “I told him that if I could vote I would vote Ms. Clinton. I wouldn’t vote for Trump because he doesn’t represent me.” I asked him what the man said about that. He said that the man asked him why he thought that. He replied, “Because he’s a bully and bullies aren’t nice. Mommy says we are supposed to be nice.”
Ya’ll know that I was dying right? My baby is so beautiful. He then asked me “Mommy, who did you vote for?” I laughed and told him that I voted for Hillary. He had the biggest smile and we took this photo:
There are many reasons that I didn’t vote for Trump and even though I’m not that fond of Hillary, she is still a better choice than him. However, I wanted to tell him the many reasons that I won’t vote for Trump and trust me there are many, but I won’t vote for someone who thinks it is okay to touch a woman without her permission. Touching a woman in the way he mentioned is sexual assault.
I’ve been sexually assaulted. Multiple times. I was 18 years old and on a Greyhound bus to Tennessee to go to college. I sat alone for the first four hours of an 18 hour bus ride. At the four hour mark, a black woman in her thirties sat across from me in the aisle. She was nice. She smiled and made small talk. I told her that I was headed to college. I wanted to be a lawyer. She couldn’t stop talking to me about that.
Sitting next to me in the window seat was a man. He didn’t really speak to me. I didn’t care. I didn’t like talking to strangers. Especially strange men. At hour 10 on this long bus ride, the man sitting next to me began to grope me in the dark. He was grabbing my butt, grabbing my breasts and putting his hands in between my legs. I kept pushing his hand away. I moved. I told him to stop. He didn’t. He reached over and grabbed my breasts. I pushed his hands away. He put his hands between my legs. I moved them.
I began to cry. Tears falling down my cheeks I began to think what was wrong with me? Why do men keep touching me without my permission? I felt all alone.
I moved closer to the woman across the aisle who was sleeping. She opened her eyes and looked at me. She saw the tears and asked me what’s wrong. I told her that the man next to me kept touching me. That he grabbed my breasts and put his hands between my legs. She screamed.
At the top of her lungs. Got up out of her seat and made a big fuss out of him being a predator. She grabbed me and pulled me behind her and cussed the hell out of that man. She woke the whole bus up.
The bus driver asked her what was the matter and she told him that the man sitting next to me was abusing me. He was preying on this young girl on her way to college. The bus driver pulled over on the side of the road. He asked the man did he touch me. The man didn’t respond. He put the man off the bus. He called the station to let them know.
I don’t care who you vote for today, but I ask you this…would you vote for a man, any man who thinks it’s okay to grab a young woman on the bus or a woman walking down the street? Does my body belong to you?
