I quit my job Wednesday morning.

I started my shift at 8:30 and waited until my boss showed up to start his shift. He arrived at 9:40 and disappeared upstairs in his office. My rotation for lifeguarding the pool ended at 10:00 (when his Building Supervisor shift began) and I went to the bathroom to pee before heading upstairs to confront my boss and give him my key to the building.

My first words to him were: “I have suffered years of harassment and discrimination ever since you allowed Red to manipulate you into retaliating against me for not having sex with him.”

The last words I said to him before I walked away were: “I will not allow you the opportunity to marginalize me again.”

It was the most rewarding and liberating act I have ever performed since the moment of my birth!

My story is long and it deeply involves the hidden and unspoken forces of sexism, racism, and our seemingly collective inability to take responsibility for our personal perceptions of ‘others’ who happen to be ‘different’.

The trouble began over six years ago when an older male coworker of mine was going through a nasty second divorce. Some of us suspected he was coming to work at least slightly intoxicated because of the smell of alcohol and his glassy, bloodshot eyes. One day, after his shift ended and he was dressed in his regular clothes, he cornered me in the back office while I was still on shift and in my lifeguard uniform. There are two chairs in the small back office and he placed himself so I was unable to get up from my chair and walk away without having to physically push past him. I felt extremely uncomfortable the moment he sat down, but I didn’t say anything because I had become used to the feeling of being uncomfortable within his presence.

I remember feeling offended when I realized I was unable to simply get up and walk away from him if I wanted to. He hadn’t said or done anything to scare me, I simply did not appreciate feeling ‘forced’ to participate in his conversation. He started by telling me how much he appreciated my friendship and how attracted he was to me. At this point, the only thought in my head was “Shit. He’s finally crossed over into ‘creepy old man’ territory.”

***This is a territory most younger women must learn to navigate without a map or directions. I once had a senior male patron at the pool say to me, “You are looking good today, Sam! I can say that because I’m old (wink, wink)!” I stood in my guard uniform, while being paid to spend my time observing our patrons and respond to any medical emergency, and I calmly responded, “Just because you think you can say something, doesn’t mean you should.” These are the types of comments some people would complain about and I would end up being in trouble with my boss.***

Red asked me if I wanted to be “more than friends” with him. My immediate reaction was to feel disgust and disdain for his approach. At the time he was still married and we had enjoyed a three year friendship at work where he would share stories about his kids who are closer to my age than he is. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings anymore than I already knew they were hurting from his current life situation. I tried to be ‘lady-like’ and ‘polite’ and ‘respectful’ and ‘nice’ — just like I had been taught to do since being a little girl while learning how to ‘behave properly’ with my elders.

I thanked Red for his compliment and told him, “No. I do not want to be ‘more than friends.'”  I smiled when I said it because that was the ‘right’ thing to do. I did not challenge him on his approach, or his assumption that I would simply be willing to have sex with him (nor his obvious lack of respect for me by not bothering to first ask me out on a ‘date‘). This was not the first time I have had to turn away a man who wanted to have sex with me. This was, however, the only time that the man I turned away did not understand the word “NO“.

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I have free time now. LOTS of free time. I’m looking forward to spending my free time writing my story, telling my story, sharing my story, and using my story to erradicate the dark Injustice of discrimination with the light of Awareness. The experiences I survived at my old job have given me a personal insight into the deep and abiding grip blind ignorance can have on the best of people. As a direct consequence of the sexual harassment I suffered from my co-worker, Red Liegel, and his subsequent behavior and actions (including two episodes of verbal assault at work), I have also suffered years of sustained and systemic gender and disability (for insulin-dependent diabetes) discrimination from the administration controlling my old workplace.

I even have possession of a copy of an opinion, written by a co-worker currently still employed at my last place of employment, expressing her belief that State-sanctioned slavery, supported by Congress and the 13th Amendment, is a reasonable and possible solution for the problem of illegal immigration within our nation. I found this opinion one day at work while looking for a memo, with the combination to unlock the money for the cashier, that had been taken out of my box. It was in her box, in the employee breakroom, where it could have just as easily been found by one of the high school swim team kids who were coming in to begin their practice. I shared the opinion with the head swim coach, but, despite his horror and disgust, he did nothing about it.

I am writing my story so I can send it out into the world. I want to share it with anyone who can use it to help make the world a better place to live. I will be sharing my story with newspapers, magazines, neighborhood groups, non-profit organizations, my City Council, the local school board, as well as sharing my reprimand to the Board of Directors of my old employer. I am looking forward to spending my free time making a difference in the world I live in.

I make my first vow, right now and right here, to write every day.

Everyday I will post a new part of my story. I will use this commitment as a way to improve my writing, and as a way to remember all of the smaller injustices I suffered that, at the time, were subsumed beneath the overall oppression of my situation. I will share my memories with everyone who is willing to listen.

Please ask me questions. Please feel welcome to participate with me in dialogue. I look forward to engaging with others so we may share ALL our stories and provide the support we ALL deserve!

It is only in silence when we allow ourselves to be harmed.

***The names of the guilty will not be changed. I will not protect them. I will say what happened to me from my perspective. I will share my story.***