An Open Letter to the Man who Assaulted Me


Do you know who I am?

Do you recognize my face,

when you come in and sit down at the restaurant where I work

Do you remember me?

My eyes,

My thighs… My breast, (the right one)

the one you squeezed hard

With your right hand underneath your left arm pressing into my chest

When you took up two seats instead of one

Pressing me into the window

On the 99 B-line

Do you even remember that night, three years ago?

My silent fight, the longest bus ride of my life,

The one I’m still on in my mind when see you-

re-living, re-riding

Only this time I’ll kick you,

I’ll stab you with a fork,

smash a wine glass over your head while your eating-

Do you think that I won’t?

Because I can’t…

Do you remember my face?

When your breathing got heavy, and my eyes got wide

Because I was so fucking scared I felt sick, and couldn’t move

Like I was six years old again, weak and small,

And if I screamed, you would pull out a gun, or a knife or just do it with with your massive bare hands on my neck

So I felt safer being silent-

Do you remember?

Do you relive it too?

Does the memory arouse you?

And does it make you feel good, seeing me now,


Knowing that you still scare me, still have power over me…

Or do you not remember me at all?!?

Do you notice that I won’t meet your gaze, won’t look you in the eyes

Do you notice that even though you are sitting in my section I don’t serve you,

I make the other server take your order instead!

Am I one of so many, you don’t even notice me,

noticing you,

remembering you-

Don’t you remember that random girl you assaulted on a bus

Three years ago

Or do you think maybe, that it could be me, but then second guess yourself like I do,

Think you’re crazy for reliving something stupid that happened three years ago

When it wasn’t a ‘big deal’ …right?

Do you question your sense of self?

Your safety?

Your memory?

Your own mind

Because it’s bent out of shape from trauma

and reliving trauma–

Are you,


And would you do it again to me now

Or do I look older, tougher,

not the same easy target as I was back then,

Or maybe you’ve changed too

Maybe you respect women now,

feel bad,

feel sad for your actions

and guilty and sorry, when you see me…

Either way,

I hope you choke on your lunch.


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