My Sexual Assault Story

My sexual assault story is extremely mild. It seems insignificant compared to what most victims go through. I was not harmed. I was never in danger of being harmed. I was not alone with my attacker; the incident happened in a public place with many other people in the immediate proximity. Yet, I believe that aspects of the incident are illustrative, especially with regard to the victim’s perspective of the attack, the aftermath, and how the events are remembered. I have decided to share my story in hopes promoting understanding.

I was flying back home from the West Coast on an overnight flight. It was a full flight; there were no open seats. The cabin was dark and quiet; most of the passengers were sleeping or quietly trying to sleep.

I was in a window seat on the right side of the cabin. The plane had a 3x3 seating configuration in coach, so my seat would have been Seat F in my row. I was closer to the back of the aircraft than the front, but not in one of the last few rows. 

I was in a deep sleep when I notice an uncomfortable pinching and rubbing sensation in a sensitive and private part of my body. At first, I didn’t know what I was feeling. But within a few seconds of becoming aware of the sensation, I realized that the passenger beside me (seated to my left) was groping me. 

My reaction was instantaneous. I let out a shout as I lurched back in my seat and threw my arms up violently as though I were defending myself from some animal attacking from above. The movement of my left arm knocked the attackers hand and arm away from my body. He immediately, and smoothly, pivoted to his left, effectively turning his back to me. He pretended to be sleeping, but given the sudden force and sound of my reaction, I’m fairly certain that he was pretending to be asleep in order to cover his guilt.

There I sat, wide awake, feeling shocked and intensely angry. I seemed hard to believe that this had just happened given that I am male, an adult, and the plane was full of passengers. But it happened. I still felt sore from the pinching.

I had to decide what to do. My first thought was to push the call button and summon one of the flight attendants, but two problems immediately came to mind. The plane was full of sleeping passengers. I didn’t feel right about causing a commotion and disturbing everyone’s sleep. Secondly, there was no evidence that this incident had occurred. It would have been my word against the attackers. I didn’t think that anyone would believe me.

Next, I considered the option of direction confrontation, but once again, I was concerned about making a scene. I could have tapped the guy on the shoulder and punched him in the face, but that would almost certainly lead to my arrest and having felony charges filed against me. That didn’t seem worth it. I couldn’t argue that I was acting in self-defense, because I wasn’t in danger.

I decided to wait until the end of the flight. I considered talking to the crew on the way out of the plane, but that seemed futile. There was no evidence that a crime was committed. It was my word against his. My anger was now mixed with frustration and a gnawing sense of hopelessness. Something disgusting had happened to me, and I could see no viable path to resolution. To add insult to injury, I was still sitting beside my attacker, and I couldn’t change seats.

Selective Memory

During the Kavanaugh confirmation hearings, people questioned the accuracy of the victim’s account, because she could not remember particular details, e.g. the house number. I’ll share with you now what I remember from the incident and what I don’t. I feel that this is illustrative, but you can draw your own conclusions.

What I Remember

He was in his twenties, tall, slender, and clean cut. He had thick, dark brown hair and a pasty fair complexion. His clothes were nice but not outrageously trendy, dark pants and a dark, long-sleeved shirt or a thin sweater. I would guess from his appearance that he was educated and had a white collar job. He didn’t have the rugged or tanned look of an outdoorsman or a manual laborer, and he didn’t look artsy. If you saw him on the street, you would consider him to be handsome and you would probably trust him. He looked like the kind of person who would help an old lady across the street.

We didn’t talk. I’m not chatty with neighbors on planes, and on red eye flights, conversations are not encouraged. Everyone settles in and tries to get as much sleep as they can. I never saw his face from the front; I remember only his profile.

I remember the dark cabin and how quiet it was with everyone sleeping. No one within my line of site was reading, watching a movie, or working on a laptop. I remember the whirring of the jet engines and the steady shuddering of the aircraft. It was a smooth flight. I don’t recall any turbulence at all.

I remember the anger, the disgust, the rage, the shock that someone could do something so brazenly inappropriate. I remember sitting up, the only person on the whole flight who didn’t appear to be asleep (except for my faking attacker). I remember weighing my options and feeling increasingly frustrated that the creep was going to get away with it.

I remember waiting to deplane. I didn’t look at him, and he didn’t look at me. We just sat there as though it never happened. I remember trying to decide in those final minutes whether to mention the incident to the cabin crew and deciding in the end that it probably wouldn’t do any good.

What I Don’t Remember

I don’t remember the flight number.

I don’t remember the airline.

I don’t remember the airport from which the flight had departed. It was either SFO, LAX, or LAS, as those are the places that I visit most frequently on the west coast. I’m leaning toward San Francisco, but I can’t be sure.

I don’t remember the destination airport. At the time, I was living in New Jersey and typically flew into Newark (EWR), but I am not absolutely certain that Newark was my destination that day. It could have been JFK. I know that I was planning to go directly to work after landing, but I don’t recall where my office was at the time.

I don’t remember the year or month of the flight. It would have been between 2005 and 2012, but I can’t narrow it down.

I can’t remember the name or location of the hotel that I stayed in before boarding the flight or whether I had anything to eat at the airport.

Summary

Clearly, there are many details about the trip that I don’t recall. I don’t remember them because they weren’t unusual. Being groped by someone while sleeping on an airliner was the unusual part, and that is what I remember clearly, the act and my reaction to it, and the description of the perpetrator. Those are details that you never forget. They stay with you forever.

Christine Blasey Ford knows who attacked her. Anyone who claims that she was confused was making excuses for a man who committed a sexual assault that was far worse than the one that I experience. I remember my incident clearly, and she remembers hers.

Copyright © 2018 Daniel R. South 

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