Me Too

The "Me Too" wave washed over Facebook last week with women posting "Me too" if they have ever been sexually harassed or assaulted. I am NOT a joiner, this was important to me.  I participated in this campaign.

When I was 11 or 12, our family traveled to the Bahamas for a work vacation. We were taken out of school, because my parents believed that travel was as valuable an education as school learning.  My parents would be attending seminars and we kids got to play on the beach or at the pool. The pool was novel to us because it had a swim up bar. My brother who was about 7, spent much of his time bellying up to the bar for a soda. When he got home and his teacher asked him his favorite thing about the trip, he said it was the bar in the pool. My mother was mortified. My older sister was just interested in laying on the beach in the sun.

Being an independent child, I would wander the beach looking for shells. I was a good swimmer so my parents never really worried about me being around water by myself. Turns out it was not the water but what was in the water that could be dangerous.

One morning, I was up before everyone and ready to go. My parents gave me the green light to go to the beach to collect shells. I knew the morning was the best time because, over night, shells would wash ashore. I wanted to be first on the beach to get the good ones. The water was smooth as glass. The beach was pristine and only a few people were out. I walked along the beach stopping only to pick up a corkscrew shell or dislodge a promising specimen from the sand with my toe.

I was wearing terrycloth shorts and tank shirt over my one piece swim suit. My short dark hair curling from the salty air. Growing up, my dad nicknamed me "Butterball". I was never obese but was solid, tan and healthy.

The water was so warm and calm. I waded out in the shallows looking for shells that had not made it to the beach. I could see the bottom clearly even though the water was up to my knees. I was lost in my task and did not notice the man approach me. He was floating on his belly, crawling along the sea floor with his hands. His body was mostly under the shallow water as he kicked gently toward me. I was surprised by his presence. He was bald with a bright white smile against his dark skin. He was wearing a small swim suit and I thought he was probably not a tourist like me.

He said good morning and asked what I was doing. I knew I should not be talking to a stranger so I kept it short and aloof.

"Looking for shells." I answered.

He continued to tell me what a pretty girl I was and then said he would help me look for shells. His hands felt along the ocean bottom clouding up the water. Then I felt his hands on my feet and I knew this was not right. He swam in the water around me circling like a shark. Trying not to let him see my panic, I tried to think how I could get away quickly.

 I pictured how when you run away from an animal predator, they usually chase you so I didn't want to run. Besides I was in knee deep water and would likely fall down if I ran. I kept feeling his touch on my feet and ankles. He was not grabbing aggressively but stroking and massaging them, smiling at me but not really seeing me.

I knew I had to get away. I pulled away and thanked him politely for helping my but my mother and father were coming to meet me and I had to go. Wading slowly but purposefully, I made my way back to the beach. My plan was to get to our hotel quickly so I would be safe.

The man did not follow me. I did not tell my parents for fear they would limit my freedom and get angry at me for talking to a stranger. I would not go to beach alone again though the rest of our trip. No one noticed but me.