Tonight is Not the Night

"Harassment is one of puberty's darkest, most unreported rites of passage."  
– Rachel Simmons

I was in an Uber headed to the airport when Rod Stewart’s raspy voice singing Tonight’s the Night filled the car with some of the most sexist, disturbing lyrics I’ve ever heard in my life.

photo by Tasha

Disconnect the telephone line
Relax baby and draw that blind
Kick off your shoes and sit right down
Loosen off that pretty French gown
Let me pour you a good long drink
Ooh baby don't you hesitate…

I came of age in the seventies. It sucked. Sex was everywhere and because of the lack of AIDS and a plethora of ways to not have a baby, it was offered the same way you might offer someone a glass of water. At least where I grew up. And then there was this.

Come on angel my heart's on fire
Don't deny your man's desire
You'd be a fool to stop this tide
Spread your wings and let me come inside..

I was raped when I was fifteen on my first date. I was quite drunk but not drunk enough to forget how terrible it was, how sad and sorry and yes, guilty I felt. There was talk about my beauty and my sexiness, something I had no experience handling around men. I had talked about books and why I loved to write. I don’t recall anything that might have created the idea I was ready to have sex except I was wearing makeup and had brushed my hair. I was called a whore and a cock tease, and I believed it was my fault. It broke my heart and my trust, and I told no one until I fell madly in love with my first real boyfriend in college and told him I hated sex, but I’d have it anyway because I loved him. I was nineteen. Finally, this.

Don't say a word my virgin child
Just let your inhibitions run wild
The secret is about to unfold
Upstairs before the night's too old

Don’t these old men, the Jeffrey Epsteins, our current president, the list is long and grows longer, understand that young girls with few exceptions have no interest in their desire or their need? Throughout the seventies, graduating from college in 1979, I was groped and threatened, cat-called and told my very existence was an affront to their masculine need to violate, subject and conquer. At work men grabbed my shoulders for impromptu massages, told me I should wear my hair down, shorter skirts, pressured into afterwork drinks or dinner where I barely escaped. But it was more than that, you were watched and hunted like game. You were a trophy and a thing to be caught and hurt. Because it hurt. Having sex with someone you are afraid of or don’t like or once considered a trusted friend is awful. I was so strong and smart but after a few more assaults I ended up in a violent marriage which ended when it finally became clear to me that I needed to take my life back and walk away.

I am the mother of a man who once stayed with a drunk girl to be sure no one would hurt her. He and his wonderful wife are having a baby this November, a girl who will be surrounded by the love of strong women, especially her mother, who want everything for her, especially freedom and the understanding that she is no one’s “virgin child” but a human being who deserves to be safe and happy. 

– Molly Moynahan