Another March approaches, laden with a plethora of feminist agendas to address. Tonight, I am going to delve into the essence of the #MeToo movement, shedding dark on the experience of a Brazilian compatriot who has been a victim of sexual violence in India by a gang with prison and a million compensation for her, but zero for the trauma.
#MeToo represents a societal movement and awareness initiative combating sexual abuse, harassment, and the prevalence of rape culture. Originating in 2017, the movement gained traction following reports of sexual misconduct by prominent American film producer Harvey Weinstein. A single tweet from actress Alyssa Milano catalysed a widespread social media phenomenon, empowering survivors to share their stories, a significant cultural and workplace shift. Milano's call to action sparked tens of thousands of responses within hours and garnered over 12 million reactions on Facebook within a day. The movement gained global momentum as influential figures, spanning generations and genres, utilized their platforms to address their experiences. Notably, the movement has reignited discussions surrounding sisterhood feminism, with ongoing revelations, even from the voices that are not here anymore that are found archive footage or hidden reports. Recently, Ana Belen's speech at the 2024 Goya Awards indicating how the movement grew geographically, amplifying its impact and relevance.
Unfortunately, we are all under a boat with the same anchor: patriarchy, which makes us connect. I find myself unable to separate from the #MeToo movement without sharing my own experiences.
Back in September 2020, one week before my lectures officially started, I came to Wolverhampton for the first time with my father. Before that day, I remembered the place from car and train trips and its negative reputation among my classmates. I came there to locate the university buildings I needed to attend to for my lectures and the train station to commute from Stafford. At first glance, what attracted me to the city was its diversity. After two years of living in the United Kingdom, it was one of the rare occasions I could hear another language other than English outside the London area. At this moment, it was my mother tongue with a Portuguese accent. It was very comforting to hear the sound I associate with home in such an unfamiliar location.
During my first two university years, I commuted from my parents’ home in Stafford, due to the pandemic and its uncertainties. However, most of my lectures were mostly online. In the second year of the mass vaccination, it changed to blended learning, face-to-face and online. In the third year, I was already fully jabbed, and in-person lectures were back. I lived in the halls for the first time and carrying a face mask in the pocket just in case.
Near to the end of this university experience, it is different to live and commute. Even if you are in Wolverhampton for a part of your week, it is not the same as being there 24/7. It is an insider perspective, the small details of an everyday basis that change from one experience to another. During my first two university years, Wolverhampton showed me diversity and an urban feeling that peaceful Stafford never did. There I always bumped into groups of people from different backgrounds and youth, contrary to back at home where there were the same groups of white Caucasian elders or families.
From the city of multiplicity to the town of wolves. In 2020, I discovered that university students were called ‘wolfies’, which stood out to me. It brought me a treasured memory of my primary school in Brazil, which had the same name. Later in the year, I noticed that this fascination with wolves is not only related to the university and the town itself, as there are many wolves’ sculptures around. No wonder, it is the local football team's mascot. In October 2022, I discovered another layer of that obsession, the turning point in my perspective regarding Wolverhampton. As well as the town's obsession with the animal itself, there are many Alpha males that I couldn't even count.
On my first day in town, after solving issues a guy stopped me from walking home to say ‘you don’t need make up, you are beautiful!’ On my fourth week there, I was coming back from the gym, and someone nearby was talking loudly. I thought I was not the addressee. However, I was wrong. He followed me through the gates and then my building’s front door, even had the audacity to ask me 'Won't you say anything at all?’ Since then, I am constantly checking if there is someone behind me when I am by myself. A short time later, I woke up late in the night, and almost simultaneously I received a message from a neighbour that was locked out. According to him, everyone was asleep, and his keys were in the kitchen downstairs. I thought he needed temporary shelter and felt sorry for him. As soon as I opened my door, I noticed he couldn't stand still and the smell of alcohol and marijuana. He removed his jacket and trousers. In my bed, a sequence of intrusive touches, nasty comments, unwanted physical proximity, and persistence. He stopped when he started snorting. I feared to stay on his side or leave. I needed air. I needed water. I needed to write. I needed to leave to catch a train. There were many failed attempts to wake him up without touches. I did not want to come across the wrong message. At some point, one of my roommates was awake and helped me to wake him up. I cried from relief and fear of being alone with this neighbour. I shared this sexual assault with other girls nearby to make them aware of it. Sadly, I found out I was not the only one. One of my roommates spoke with him; he apologised and blamed alcohol.
November was my first time in town on the day of a match at Molineux Stadium. My preconceived notion was that it would be an epicentre of penises beings, not even considering the hooligans. I recall being anxious and hungover that day. Thinking of these numerous possibilities made it even more difficult. At the end of the day, I was surprised that I could walk home with confidence. Around one to two weeks after, I was in the gym following my exercise disturbed me to check how long I had left in the equipment. When I finished my section that day, coincidentally or not, this same person left with me. Lucky or not, I was going to do food shopping. However, he insisted to know my name, age, ethnicity, marital status, and phone number. It was evident he did not want to recommend me a personal trainer. Later in the month, after two Lusophony victories in the World Cup, I decided to celebrate at a club. However, before that, I needed an energy boost, so I asked for a delivery. When I picked it up, I was tipsy. The driver complimented me and asked for my number. I accepted a date, one of the most unfortunate “yes” in my life and ended up before anything started. He called me countless times at the most inconvenient hours. Besides that, alcohol saw physical attractiveness when there was none or another kind. A few days later, he saw me at his workplace. I pretended I did not notice him, but he waited for me outside and messaged me about it. That month I signed and shared a local survey about women's and girls' safety.
December was my roommate’s birthday, Argentina’s semi-final announcement and Brazil shamefully eliminated by Croatia in penalties; we ended up clubbing. I was dancing with my friends, and an unknown person thought he had the right to smack my butt. However, security asked me if I wanted him to remove the men from the club, and I accepted the offer.
In January, a gym staff member looked at my breasts. Later in the month, I had an uncomfortable spinning class with him, a strict teacher, but I could feel his eyes all over my body. At a beginning of the new year, cleaned my phone, and unblocked numbers. Instantaneous regret. I received messages from a creep that had insisted to get with me for five years. Blocked again.
A February night, I was in a party animal mood, however, neither of my close friends wanted to join me. Instead, I went alone in the middle of the night. In that moment, I went outside the corner pub, and a wolf pack was smoking outside. Between puffs, they woofed at me as they smoked. At the club’s entrance, security did not allow me to enter as I was by myself. There are times when I wander around the city, a collection of approaches. A few regrets, others were scary creeps. Once I was taking photos of nature, and coincidentally a group of males upskirted me.
March has barely started. It was already a punch in the gut, but the icing on the cake was about to come. Near my building’s front door, I was stopped. He kept saying we were classmates. I always trusted my memory, but I gave him credit and my phone number. Remorse. He messaged and called me at unusual times. It is uncountable the number of times he repeated that we studied together and wanted to be my friend. Until one day, when I walked back to the flat, I bumped into him. However, I could not hear his mumbling until he was in front of me, forcing me to hug him to feel my body, and even said he missed me. After many insistent, I went to his flat. He offered me alcohol, but I denied it. He started to push me closer, distribute empty words, kisses over my body and undress me. I did not want that. I became his pleasure doll. At least he had the decency to use protection. Another blocked number, persistent even on other social media platforms I did not share. An anonymous report that was pointless. It resulted in me being tense when I am by myself where these events happen and extra aware. After much stalking, and an unlucky bump with him, I took advantage for a second, and ran away from him. Since he would not stop when I simply said no, I had to threaten him to stop. Not long after that, I was about to meet up with my friends in the centre. I bumped into a weird girl that was desperate to be my friend and complimented my appearance. In the same week, in the gym a personal trainer strangely approached me, and an unknown old woman stopped me to admire my legs in shorts.
In early April, I was returning from food shopping, and a group of seniors started barking. In the gym, I received unrequested advice from a manplainer. In my spare time, I set up a date with a guy I met online. However, thanks to fate, that meeting never happened. He was misogynistic and masochistic, a potential Andrew Tate follower. The icing on the Easter Egg came shortly thereafter. A relatively large group of people in a small store. I was the outsider and gifted to be approached by that peculiar guy. After I mentioned I was a foreigner, he decided to train his Galician with me. He even finished the conversation so cocky ‘I bet I am the first who approached you in Portuguese here, am I?’ Early morning, in the kitchen with my friends, a guy in the street gave me a thumbs up. I was walking to the library when a street artist stopped his music to talk to me.
In May the force is with me. Aside from these unusual occasions in person, there are also a wide variety of looks and smiles for various parts of my body. Countless times, groups of voyeurs appeared on my bedroom’s window. When I moved there, it was the start of random and sometimes creepy people adding me to social media platforms and their unique approaches.
Between October and November, my closest roommate showed me her personal alarm. All we need is a wolf whistle!
After these experiences, a constant anxiety when I am by myself. Ended up realising tale as old as time, many stories from either in-person or online incidents. New ones still happen but lies, silence and blocking were my saviours-though not always. Always an infinite source to write surround it, as a Brazilian woman abroad. There is a sexual fantasy of the Brazilian woman, the Latina woman under the foreign gaze. It has existed since the times of colonization, it is reinforced by the media with erroneous stereotypes, selling an image that diverges from reality. We are humans too, not only bombshells bodies with an accent.
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