My name is Niki. I am the current slave portion of the Michigan Master / slave title. I am going to share something deeply personal that has happened to me, and I know that it has happened to more than just me. It has happened to #YesAllWomen, but it is more than that. It is #YesAllPeople.
The reason that I bring up the title, is to give a bit of backstory. As part of being a titleholder, you go out to bars, events, munches, meetings TONS OF THINGS. It is seen as a job of sorts. I am an extrovert, and it is part of the “job” that I am absolutely in love with. I have loved all the talking, all the new friends that we have made, and the family ties that have become stronger.
But, there is a downside to it as well. For those of you who do not know me, I am a six foot two red head. I live and identify as a high femme. Often, in public, I am mistaken for someone who is transgendered. I am not. I am a cis-gendered female. This is relevant, I promise.
I was recently at an event, where I was representing the title. Someone named “Tony” came up to me (no big deal) introduced himself to me (no big deal) we talked for a minute (no big deal) I moved closer to be able to hear him, (where we were was really loud at that moment, and I am half deaf) he leaned in closer to me, put his hand on my crotch, and asked me if I wanted a hand job.
Big Deal.
I was stunned in the moment, told him not to touch me, and walked away. I walked back to where the group we were with was, and was IMMEDIATELY asked what was wrong. I told them, including Sir Travis, and they were livid. I went to point Tony out, but of course, he had disappeared into the crowd.
I want to tell you that I was SO STRONG, and brought attention to what had happened to me to the bar tenders, or to the manager, or the event producer, but I didn’t. I was so stunned at what had just happened to me. Someone who has spent a LOT of time in the public, someone who speaks on personal responsibility. But I did none of those things. I went to the bathroom with a friend, locked the door, and sobbed.
The reason for the tears are twofold. On the surface, it is most definitely about being violated. The deeper level of it, is this. I was not seen as a person…as a woman. In that moment, I was disrespected as a woman, as a person. I was unseen as a person undeserving of the basic human right to have my personal boundaries not violated. That level of disrespect is hard for me to grasp. Tony felt so comfortable after 43 seconds of conversation, that he grabbed at me in an attempt to try and take my body, reducing me to nothing more than a blowup doll.
I continued on with the event rather than make a “big deal” out of it. Sometimes, a person needs time to process what has just happened, and a public space is not ideal for that. So, I continued on with the event, and processed it later. I spent the majority of the next day physically ill, and trying to make sense of it.
He touched me. Out of the ten thousand people I hug in a year, NONE of those people have ever touched me in a way that has EVER made me uncomfortable with. I know that if this has happened to me, then it has happened more times than we care to know about. We are a hyper-sexualized sub-culture, founded on being sexual outlaws and sexual rebellion.
Not assault.
Be kind to each other, look out for each other, and please learn from this. What happened to me is not okay. If it has happened to you it is not okay. It is a big deal.
It doesn’t matter if I am a man or a woman, someone who is trans* or cis-gendered. Assault is assault.
Niki is Michigan slave 2014.
