When I was 15 I went to Spain with my school class. One early night, me and my two girlfriends came back from driving bumber cars. When we came to our street, I was surrounded by about 5-7 guys who touched my body. I remember freezing and looking down at my body seeing hands on it  – i didn’t move or do any thing – i just looked a the hands on my body. One of my school mates (my dear cousin) woke me up by spitting at them. Then I reacted, and slapped one of them and we ran and screamed.

I was about 16. I worked in a fine Italian restaurant after school a few nights during the week or month. Every time I went into the kitchen, the men in their touched my bum. Nothing in me liked that.  I was very shy then.  I remember I did my best not to go out there. I cant remember any thing else, than I felt shitty all the time. I was there for a few month – and until today I had completely forgotten about it.

When I was 20 I lived in Aarhus, and one night, on friday the 13th, a man stopped me and held my arm, telling me he would kill me if I wouldn’t follow him. I escaped – and stopped a car, and the police got him. I still tell myself that I don’t know if he just wanted to sleep next to me or cut of my nipples. When a letter from the police arrived some month later, telling me he had died – my feelings were mixed, but yes I was relieved.

Two month later I spend a hole night kicking a guy to get him of me.  I was so naive. I was on a film exchange on my way to Portugal, and by mistake me and two guys lost our 2. flight in Germany. I let the guys  get the only two tickets on  the next plain  without me – and left the airport because there was no more plains before the next day . I ended up with some one who said he would help me. I never told any one for quite a few years.

I have other stories  – “the show must go on” stories. Where no one really reacts. I didn’t  like what was going on, and no one really helped me, even though they new I felt bad – the show must go on.  Where I missed opportunities because that was the price, or where I didn’t exactly say no, but in my head I really couldn’t see how “he” couldn’t see that none of me wanted what I felt was a harassment.

I was lucky – nothing never really happened. I was never rapped. I was only touched on top of my cloths.  Nothing seriously happened – Im fine, but I don’t want this to happen to anyone else.

If all the women that have been sexually harassed or assaulted wrote ‘me too’ as a status we might give people a sense of the magnitude of the problem.

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