I didn't know how to say no

I did not know how to say "no" to people when I was young. I did not know that they didn't have the right to touch me, to hold me against my will or to invade my personal space. I didn't know that they didn't have the right to look at me... but they did.<br><br>I was taught to be polite, especially to adults. This was part of being a lady. I was taught that saying "no" was not ladylike. That it was rude to say "no" to an adult. They would not ask me to do something if it wasn't important. I was not to question them or refuse. I did not have the right to refuse. I did not have the right to say "no".<br><br>Their needs were to be met before mine. I should be grateful if they paid attention to me. I should be happy that they wanted to touch me, to hold me. I should let them hug me, or kiss me. Because they were quickly my only friends. They were all I had.<br><br>I didn't know how to refuse when invited to stay with my mom's new boyfriend. They were married just over a month later. My mom for the first time in my life was happy. She had a man who wanted her. She was loved, and didn't have to work. She just had to be the lady of the house, and I was to be the lady of the home as well.<br><br>But it wasn't just my mom who was to be the lady of the home. It was me who had to make the house pretty and comfortable. I had to be tidy and clean. I had to help with the dishes in the morning, and pick up after my stepfather and his guests. I was taught how to put make up on, and to be well dressed at all times. I was to be the Lady of the House. I was to be well behaved, and well mannered.<br><br>I was expected to behave around my stepfather and his guests. I was to treat them as if they were my family, and to be polite and well mannered. They were good company, and my mother was happy to have them around. And I did not want to spoil the mood. <br><br>My stepfather made good money. We didn't lack for anything. And my mother was happy. But our house became a place where his friends could come and play. They were wealthy and well behaved gentlemen. They were members of good society. They were kind and gentle towards my mother. And most of the time they treated me fine. They made good company, and they were nice to my mother. She seemed happy. And I was supposed to be happy as well. I was to behave, and be a good girl.<br><br>I had a hard time sleeping at night. I would lay awake, and listen to my stepfather and his guests. They would drink and laugh together. And then they would talk. I did not understand what they were saying. It was some sort of code, that they used only when they were alone.<br><br>I learned to listen, and to remember. I heard their conversations at night. And I heard more in the morning as they were leaving. It seemed like some sort of business. I was not really sure. I had no one to ask, and no where to run.<br><br>Then one night I woke up to movement in my room. I looked at my clock. It was 1:30 am. I heard the sound of my door closing. And I felt a hand on my breast. It was soft and gentle... and it felt good. I did not know how to say no. I did not know it was wrong. I felt happy, and safe. I was not afraid. I was in the care of a good man. I was to behave, and be a good girl.<br><br>But it was not my stepfather. It was one of his friends. I knew because he whispered his name into my ear. He said "Don't be afraid. I'm not going to hurt you. Just relax and enjoy." And so I did. I felt good, and I was happy. And when he finished he left. And I went back to sleep.<br><br>Sometimes my stepfather would come into my room at night. And sometimes it would be his friends. I always tried to remember the sound of their voices. So I would know who it was. But I couldn't always tell. They sounded the same. They whispered softly in my ear. And they touched me softly. But they were all grown men. And I was just a little girl.<br><br>I was not afraid. I was taught to be well behaved, and to obey. I was in the care of a good man. I was to behave, and be a good girl. And I always tried to behave. I tried to do as I was told. And I never complained.<br><br>Until one night an older man came into my room. I woke up to the sound of his voice. He was saying my name. And I could feel his hand on my breast. He was an older man, and he was pressing hard. He was holding me down. I was scared, and I tried to fight. But he was too strong, and he was stubborn. He looked into my eyes and said "Don't you ever say no to me. You are mine to look at. You are mine to touch."<br><br>I did not know how to say "no". I did not know how to fight back. I did not know I was in danger. I did not know I was being molested. I did not know that they were not allowed to touch me in that way. I did not know that I should be afraid. I did not know how to behave. I did not know how to be a good girl. I did not know that I was not supposed to be touched. I did not know that I was not supposed to be held against my will.<br><br>But I knew the police would help. They would keep me safe. And I should tell them. So I did. And they were nice. They were polite, and they were understanding. They were shocked, and they were mad. My stepfather's friends did not have the right to touch me. I did not have to be polite. I did not have to be well behaved. I had the right to say "no". And I did.<br><br>I was taken away from my stepfather. I was put into foster care. And my mother lost her husband, and her wealth. She was not happy, and she was not well. She was not able to care for me. She was not able to be a mother. She was not able to be a lady. She was poor, and broken. And I never saw her again.<br><br>My name is Emily. I am 30 now. And I am a lady. I am polite, and well mannered. But I know how to say "no". I know when to fight. I am not afraid of grown men. I am not afraid to be a lady. And I am not afraid to be myself.<br><br>But let this be a lesson. Teach your daughters to say "no". Teach them to fight back. Teach them to be afraid when they are in danger. Teach them to be ladies if they want. But do not teach them to obey. Do not teach them to be polite. Because sometimes it is good to say "no". Sometimes it is good to fight back. Sometimes you should be afraid.<br><br>And sometimes the Lady of the Home is not a lady. This is a lesson I learned well. And it is a lesson that I will never forget.