A touchy subject

Girls' Life, June, 2001 by Reanna San Martin

Is it sexual harassment...or just friendly flirting?

The entire situation began innocently enough. Or so it seemed at first. Then it got to be a problem. A big problem. And I couldn't take it anymore.

I mean, I was totally psyched the first day the weather warmed up and I could finally sport a pair of shorts to school. Matt, a nice guy in my eighth-grade history class, commented to me that he really liked my legs. I had known Matt for three years, but I really didn't know how to take that.

"Dude, Reanna," he said, staring down at my knees. "You should wear shorts all the time. You've got nice legs!"

I could feel my face turning a subtle shade of strawberry. He said it so loudly that I felt completely uncomfortable. Sure, it was a compliment and all, but I felt kind of self-conscious. I wondered if everyone around us was now gawking at my legs. I didn't know what to say, so I just mumbled a "thank you."

The next day, I wore shorts again. I had forgotten all about the incident--until I saw Matt walk into class. I tried tucking my legs under the desk, but it was too late. He headed right toward me and reached down, grabbing my knees with both his hands.

"Wow!" he exclaimed. "I really love your legs!"

I looked down at my desk and pretended nothing had happened. I know he meant to be flattering, but it didn't make me feel good. And I definitely didn't like him touching me!

The next morning, when I was dressing, I thought twice about wearing shorts to school. "Stop being stupid," I thought. "It's not like he's going to touch my legs again. He probably won't even notice today." But he did. And this time, he ran his hand along my thigh.

"Oh, stop it," I said, but he was already headed for his seat, laughing.

It made me furious. Was I deliberately exposing myself to anyone who wanted to touch me? Of course not! Other girls had on shorts. Boys, too. Why couldn't I wear them without worrying if some guy was gonna grab me?

This went on almost every day until I wore pants--on a 90-degree day. I was sweatin' and all, but at least Matt didn't bother me. He just walked into the classroom, looked at me and mumbled something about being disappointed I wasn't wearing shorts.

That night, my mom had some friends over. Someone was talking about the hot weather and how when they were kids they had dress codes and couldn't wear shorts to school.

Before I could stop myself, I blurted out that I couldn't wear shorts either.

"What are you talking about?" my mom asked. "Of course, you can. You wore shorts all last week." She looked at me, curiously.

I sighed. Before I realized it, I was telling everyone about how Matt would not leave me alone. I thought my dad was going to explode.

Everyone started giving my mother advice. "That's serious," someone said. "You should call the teacher."

"Talk to the principal and have his parents come in for a conference," another said. "You can't let this go!"

"That's sexual harassment!" someone else exclaimed. "I can't believe this!"

I left the room, but no one even noticed. They were too busy discussing the incident and telling my mom what she had to do about it.

I felt sick. I didn't mean to make a big deal out of it. I liked Matt! Now he was going to be in big trouble all because of me. He would probably end up hating me. I was so sorry I had even brought it up. I wondered if my mom would call the principal the next day. I was pretty sure she would. I wished I had kept my mouth shut!

After her friends left for the evening, my mom came into my room. I was so angry that I almost wouldn't talk to her. She sat on the edge of my bed.

"I want to talk to you about that boy who keeps touching your legs," she said.

"Yeah?" I answered, suspicious.

"When he touches your legs, do you tell him to stop?" she asked.

"Yeah, of course I do!" I said, kind of surprised at the question.

"But are you laughing or giggling when you say it?" she asked. "Maybe smiling at him?"

I thought about this for a second. "Yes, I guess I might be."

"That's the problem," she nodded. "He doesn't understand you're serious-- that you really do want him to stop. It's probably a game to him. And when you laugh and smile, he thinks you're playing the game too."

Mom made a lot of sense. Matt was not a bad guy. I never thought he really meant to offend me. "But I don't want to be mean to him, Mom," I told her.

"I know, and that's why you smile. But you don't have to be mean. You do have to get the message across, though, that what he is doing is wrong and completely unacceptable."

She looked at me intently and said, "This is what you have to do. Tell him to stop. Say it loud and clear. Don't laugh. Don't smile. Be very serious. Be stern. Be tough. See if that works."

"Are you going to call the principal and report him?" I asked, worried.

"No, but you want him to stop touching your legs, right?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"I think because you don't want to be mean, you haven't gotten it across to him that you really don't like what he is doing. Once you make that clear to him, I think he'll stop."