Tonight, I was rehearsing a sketch, playing Minister So-And-So, and it was about Bill 18, the so-called anti-bullying bill here in Manitoba.
The Minister is being bullied by another person in the sketch, and rehearsing, I had a horrible flashback to a Grade 10 experience where I was assaulted by a group of boys two years older than me.
That experience was horrible, even though I was not physically injured and that finally made me fearful enough that I went to the principal and told someone about the months of verbal abuse I had endured. I told the principal I didn't want those three students to not ever talk to me again. And they didn't. It was a delicious three months of peace, and then they graduated.
That was in 1988. I didn't tell my mom about it until some time in 2010. We cried. I cry now thinking about how I was so ashamed of this that I didn't tell my mom then.
So, tonight, we are rehearsing, and I'm playing the bullied party, and the bully (it's satire) is walking behind my back, as the script indicates.
I express my discomfort, because suddenly I'm that scared 15-year-old, going to the principal (director) and saying I'm not comfortable. The director immediately makes changes to accommodate my discomfort.
The bully defends himself, saying it's OK, in real life he's a nice guy.
That, right there, ladies and gentleman, is rape culture.
In the sketch, I knee him in the nuts. Wish I could do that in real life. And go back in time and do it again.