Do I need protection?
I was six when a boy from my school service suddenly kissed me. I was startled, so I complained to the kuya in charge. He just laughed and teased me about it, saying maybe this boy liked me.
I was eight when a man touched my behind while I was playing with my friends outside our house. He lived in the same neighborhood, and walked in the afternoon as his everyday routine. He didn’t speak a lot but would always smile at us when he passed by, and we would exchange smiles just to be polite.
I was 12 when an old man sitting beside me stared at me from head to toe. I glanced back at him, he smiled, and he never stopped looking. Right there and then, my mom and I exchanged seats and we waited in silence for the Mass to start.
I was 15 when I first bought myself a cute pair of denim shorts. I felt happy buying it with my allowance, and would wear it when I went out with friends — until one bus ride when a man started taking pictures of my legs. I was scared. Scared yet silent. I never wore my favorite shorts again.
I was 17 when a tricycle driver told me he was lucky he got a beautiful passenger. I thought he was just being kind, until he asked for my name, how old I was, and where I lived. At that moment, I just wanted out.
I was 19 and on the way to school when a man who reeked of alcohol started rubbing his skin against me inside a spacious jeepney. I was feeling uncomfortable. Some passengers spoke up and told the man to leave me alone. I couldn’t be more thankful for their help.
I’m 20 years old now. One night while I was waiting for my father to fetch me, a couple of men told me they’d give me a ride. I refused but they insisted. Luckily, my dad arrived right on time.
All different circumstances, but through all these, I felt the same rage at how I was treated. I thought maybe I was overthinking things, seeing things that weren’t there, getting the wrong idea. Maybe these guys were just being friendly, or maybe my skirt really was too short. Maybe it was my fault — but no. I was wearing my school uniform. It was broad daylight. I was a child. No way was I asking for it. And it can happen to anyone. Such behavior requires no specific outfit, age, or time of day.
It’s not the first time we have heard of such stories. Maybe some are getting tired of it, but I don’t want to be one of them. I have lived long enough to know that others have had it worse, and that not everyone has people around to protect them.
I can’t wait to live the day when we don’t need protecting anymore.
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Maria Andriela F. Pardilla, 20, is a third year BA Communications student at Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila.
