"You are forgetting again..."

I do not write poetry, but this came spewing out of me like a toxin that had to be released. This letter is to a man who is my #metoo.

To the man who is my #metoo,

With the beautiful wife that you speak so highly of,

With the son who has your eyes,

And the daughter, who has your curls. 

I have moved on from your humiliation and degradation,

I no longer cry for the innocence you, among others, have stolen,

I am done blaming myself for the clothes and the make up and the looks and the flirting,

And mostly for agreeing to drive you home so close to curfew. 

I have moved on from the night, did I mention I was in high school, a sophomore, very Inexperienced, quite shy… I digress…

Where was I, ah yes, moved on from the night when a girl taught to be kind and take care of friends,

turned into a night when a girl became the woman she didn’t know she would ever have to be. 

But I have moved on… so NOW… now I plan for MY daughter. 

I plan on what I will allow her to do and who I will allow her to see and how late I will allow her to be out and how often to call and how to sneak code words in over the phone and I plan and I plan and I plan… did I mention she is one… I digress…

Where was I, ah yes, I plan…. I plan so I can keep my daughter safe, even though my parents did it all right and it STILL happened. 

So I wonder, do you plan…

Do you plan on teaching your son what a real man says and does?

Or do you plan on teaching him how to take what he wants?

And do you plan on what you will say to your daughter to keep her safe?

Or do you plan on leaving that to your wife?

How would YOU keep her safe when you know there are men about… men that want to manipulate her, humiliate her, and overtake her… men who you know are just like you. 

I hope it’s a wake up call and a shock to the system, just like having my daughter was for me. But rather than us being on opposing sides, as usual, this time you and I both feel the same thing… fear. Gut wrenching fear that no matter what we do there will still be men out there like you. So teach that son of yours what true consent means and teach that poor daughter that people can change. 

Or else, perhaps one day, you will get this,

From a number you don't recognize,

"You are forgetting again..." 

And in that moment you will know,

No matter how many times you sent that threat,

A victim can never forget, 

And now you won't either.