The Day I Didn’t Stay Silent
He counted on me staying quiet…
He was wrong!
It had been a festive afternoon, shopping at the mall with my kids.
I stopped into a store to buy a few gifts for them. The lines were long, but the air was filled with holiday music, delicious smells in the stores, and a buzz of cheerful energy.
I love Christmas!
Standing in a winding checkout line, balancing a few small packages in my arms, I was absorbed in thought when I felt it—
A firm grab on my backside.
I whipped around instinctively, catching a glimpse of a man slipping between the crowded lines.
At first, I tried to rationalize it—maybe it had been accidental. After all, it was busy, chaotic.
Knowing it wasn’t.
And then I saw him doing the same thing to other women as he weaved through the crowd.
The anger hit me in a flash.
This wasn’t an accident. It was deliberate. A sick game he had perfected, hidden by the perfect cover of the holiday rush.
As a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, my first reaction wasn’t straightforward anger—it was fear.
Fear of retaliation if I confronted him.
Fear of being discredited or dismissed.
Even though I've done years of healing, my first instinct is still driven by survival.
Even though I knew exactly what that man was doing, my brain rapidly cycled through: Was it safe to say something? Could I protect myself if he retaliated? Would anyone even believe me?
I froze for a few seconds too long, my mind spiraling through "what-ifs."
Then, heart pounding, I locked eyes with the cashier, pointed to the man, and said loudly enough for others to hear, "That man just grabbed my ass!"
Predictably, he spun around, hands thrown up, blurting, "I didn’t touch you!" His fast denial and panicked retreat toward the exit showed just how practiced he was at this.
Though shaking, I wasn’t going to let him slink away unnoticed. I approached a store employee and asked to speak to a manager. When the manager arrived, I described exactly what had happened, including how I had seen him doing the same thing to other women as he moved through the crowd, and pointed out the direction he had gone.
I learned later that in many stores, managers are required to notify mall security or a Loss Prevention Officer (LPO) if an assault or harassment incident is reported. I didn't know if that would happen, but I knew that at least I had taken the first step to make sure someone in authority was aware.
Afterwards, when I'd met up with my kids, still reeling from what happened, the familiar, painful pattern showed up:
Ruminating.
Second-guessing myself.
As a healed survivor, even though I consciously know better, my brain can still slip back into old wiring—into fear, into freezing, into overthinking.
The truth is, this doesn’t happen predictably enough to rehearse a better, faster reaction.
There’s no perfect script. And that’s okay.
These men bank on catching women off guard, knowing that when we're startled, we're less likely to be a problem for them. It's not a failure to freeze or hesitate—it’s a human response to shock. What we need is to help our brains learn to respond differently, to trust ourselves, and to keep building a stronger, faster sense of self-protection. Healing includes recognizing that not reacting the way we wish we had doesn’t make us weak—it makes us human.
My story represents a reality for so many.
The power isn’t just in what happens—it’s in how we respond.
If you find yourself in a similar situation, here’s what can help:
Prioritize safety. Only confront if you feel safe.
Use your voice. Draw attention if you can.
Document everything. Take mental notes: appearance, direction, time.
Report immediately. Tell a manager. It’s their responsibility to act.
Believe yourself. Your instincts are valid. Your safety matters.
Speaking out doesn't just protect you—it challenges a culture that consistently believes perpetrators more than victims, forcing victims to work harder just to be heard and believed.
You are not overreacting.
You are not being dramatic.
You are courageous.
You deserve to be safe—always.
The truth is, men like this seem to be getting more brazen.
And women—we need to stick together.
