An Open Letter to the Man Who Sexually Harassed Me

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Dear Sir,

I want to address your behavior at the recent fundraising dinner where I worked as a server at your table. I want to confront you for your obnoxious advances, and for the inappropriate way you grasped the back of my leg halfway between my knee and buttock.

I want to, but the moment has passed and left me regret.

Business casual woman with overlaid text

You see, in that brief pause after the incident, I was too filled with shock to properly respond. My insides squirmed unpleasantly. I might have uttered — or maybe just thought — a gasping, “Uhhmno.” But, I felt powerless to do more in my role as contract waitress. I instead walked briskly away and avoided your side of the banquet room for the rest of the night.

It had been years since my last service industry job back in college. I am so far removed from the stereotypical misogynistic customer. I suppose I naively assumed your kind would not be present that night. For goodness sake, it was a private school fundraiser! You were probably attending with your spouse — or at the very least on behalf of your children. They — and I — deserve a lot more respect.

Sexual harassment is never okay. Not in your workplace, nor in mine.

You should be ashamed. I cannot blame you for my cowardice in failing to firmly address your misconduct. But, I do hold you responsible for taking advantage of me, of the situation, and of far too much free booze.

How I wish I had confronted you! Made a scene, maybe threw a drink in your face. Called you out in front of your buddies. Told you I was a happily married woman, and a mother, and so NOT interested. But, I stood there, unsure that it had really happened and confused as to your intent.

Well, I have had weeks to process. And I now realize that regardless of your intent, you assumed liberty where you deserved none. My being a woman and a server does not give you the right to harass me. Furthermore, the absence of a sandwich board sign around my neck declaring, “I do not give you permission to touch my body” does not equal consent.

This was a teaching moment for me. I have hopefully learned to be bold in the future, should I ever serve you, or someone like you, again.

Because of you, I have re-thought my response to unwanted touching. In my youth, I might have excused such sexual harassment as “part of the job.” With livelihood depending on the generosity of others, there is an assumption inherent in waitressing that being over-friendly and responding positively to flirting and other advances means bigger tips. As a grown woman filled with confidence and self-worth, I know it’s something NO ONE should put up with.

Because of you, I have considered what to tell my children. I had always imagined giving my daughter the “swimsuit area” speech — you know, the one in which you warn kids against other people touching parts of their bodies that a swimsuit would cover. If I’d been wearing a bathing suit, that sensitive flesh on the back of my leg would have been bare . . . but regardless, I was extremely uncomfortable with the touch. I want to tell my daughter from an early age that a touch ANYWHERE on her body that makes her uncomfortable, nervous, or scared is NOT OKAY.

Stop right there, sir, before you congratulate yourself. I am not thanking you for the opportunity to learn and grow. You deserve no such gratitude.

Sincerely,

Your Server

P.S. I have a name, by the way. It’s Diana. But you may call me Mrs. Cullum.

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