My Body: Not Your Right
By Ellen Jean, Guest Writer
This is my personal story of assault and how I handled it.
This happened late in 2019.
I had planned for months with my friend to go on this quilters’ retreat - a getaway - won’t this be fun! I picked out my fabrics, got together with my friend to plan our projects, decided to go up a little earlier to get in a few more hours of sewing and visiting time and laughs without any responsibility of cooking and cleaning.
The trip was about a 2-hour car ride in my car, a little two-door sporty car. My chatty awesome passenger, my friend of 20 years, was my navigator. She knew the way.
Obstacles in the Path
“Turn here,” she said, and I followed.
I’m one of those people who have no sense of direction. I turn left when, most obviously to everyone except me, I should have turned right, so I trust her and her directions…
As we headed down this alternate highway, we came upon views of the mountains, and rolling hills, and cows all over the road. I had to drive my car in between the cows, honking my horn and asking them to moooooove. The road went from pavement to gravel to a weathered washboard of a path causing us to drive slower and slower as we ate up this road.
We made it through and laughed and carried on.
Coming into this cozy spot, this retreat place nestled in the mountains, we saw a large A-Frame log cabin with a giant peak of angular windows on the front and plenty of parking. Another friend greeted us and showed us around and to our stations where we could setup our sewing machines and quilting supplies. We were situated in a grand main room with vaulted ceilings, a giant riverstone fireplace, and wood floors. It was bright and rustic like a small-scale ski lodge.
The Start of a Bad Vibe
When we first walked into the boot room, there were strict rules about a few things. One was no outdoor footwear in the main room. This struck me as abrupt in a cozy bed and breakfast.
We were introduced to some of the gals that were already set up and had their sewing machines buzzing with fabric and packages littered around their work stations, all in good hobby mode.
Then we were introduced to the owners.
The woman was tall with the creamiest skin I’ve ever seen. She was also wearing a shower cap on her head along with her clothing…strange right? Then I understood she was the cook - so this sort of made sense; however, her shower cap chef’s hat wasn’t keeping all her hair completely tucked in and away from falling into food. It was sort of sloppily positioned.
She had plopped herself in a very large chair in the guest area and started visiting. The owner/cook hanging with the guests?
Generally when we go on retreats, it’s just the retreat goers that are together, never any of the staff hang out with us. The retreats are just for us, sort of private. There’s some small interaction with the staff at meal times, but it’s minimal. Separate.
Pining and Pinning
We brought in our things and were shown to our room. As we mounted the large, rustic pine log stairs, well constructed along with the floors, we proceeded down a small hallway into the bedroom, were appointed with two single beds, a full bathroom, and a small sitting area with a couch. It was lovely.
This is going to be fun, I thought, so looking forward to sewing, catching up with my friend, sharing a glass of wine or two, and getting some projects completed, one being for my daughter.
As we were coming down the stairs, I asked the woman owner where I could put some of our snacks and wine and things. All of a sudden, this man comments about my wine - something along the lines of, “well someone’s prepared to have a good time.”
I was really taken aback.
First, I’m at a quilting retreat with the average age being literally 60+ and my age of 40 something is considerably less than everyone there. Their kids are my age, so no, this is not even close to a correct assessment.
My friend asked the woman if we could pay up and she said he handles all of the money transactions, so my friend paid. My purse was in the car because I had planned to pay later.
Where I was stationed in this stately room was beside a door that goes out onto a vast veranda. But as another rule, you cannot use any other door except the one beside my station and the main door (however there were several doors that provided access in and out of the building in many different areas).
The man/owner came down in a dirty, stained, white, muscle shirt and black jeans. He’s kind of frumpy and sloppy looking and I just got a bad vibe - especially after the wine comment from earlier. Then, I realized that he smokes and has to exit and enter right beside my table, sort of beside and behind me. And it’s sort of tight where I was positioned so he had to walk right behind me to squeeze through to this door while touching my things, commenting on my stuff, opening the door so the wind moves my items around. It was super annoying and very uncomfortable.
As the first night came to a close, one by one the ladies headed to bed. My friend and I always stay up late talking and laughing and catching up - but the woman remained up, still plopped in her seat. She’d hung around all of us all night and so this was sort of weird. My friend and I are cordial with her but it was strange that she was hanging out, playing music on a large TV, and singing out loud as she sat in our space.
Anyway it was getting later and we headed to bed.
The next morning, breakfast was cooked but the shower cap wearer and her French husband, the man/owner, came down in a grimy looking white housecoat, like he’d just rolled out of bed - because he had (although every other person was dressed) and he needed to use the door beside my station, of course, so he could smoke. So now I have this man in his housecoat brushing past me to exit and enter back into the room…UGH!
While we proceeded with our day - I had a plan to pin a quilt. This means to layout three layers - backing, batting, and the top - and pin all the layers together so you can “quilt” or connect these together to complete the quilt sandwich portion. To do this you need to either layout all the layers on the floor and then work on your hands and knees to pin it.
In the case of our room, there wasn’t enough floorspace, so, we put to tables together to create a flat surface for me to complete this part, which worked great!
As I was on the tables placing safety pins into these layers, this man with his frumpy clothing and eau de smoke walked by me.
SMACK.
He slapped my ass!
And he made a comment to his friend about me. He, his friend, and the shower cap woman/wife laugh.
I’m mortified, stunned, shocked and completely humiliated.
The Aftermath
What should I do? Make a bad scene worse?
Say something with a room full of strangers - to the owners in their home?
I quietly exited the room, headed upstairs, and released my feelings.
I crIED and crIED and crIED.
I was in my room for some time and then I heard the faintest knock on the door. It was a friend, not the one I came with, but the friend who set up the quilting weekend. I allowed her in and she knew immediately what’d happened. She had been sitting just off to my side and heard the slap, but didn’t actually see it. She’d also heard the laughter.
Now I was several hours from home, the driver of my friend, and it was late and way past dark, and I was crying and trying to figure out what I should do.
I spoke with the shower cap woman and she said her husband is always like this (hmm, not a very nice thing to say about your husband lady).
She apologized to me, but I found no comfort. My two friends showed compassion and empathy toward me, which was comforting; however, my weekend was ruined. I felt and feel assaulted in so many ways.
I called my husband and tell him there’s been an incident. I was so emotional by this - I had gotten a bad vibe from the owners upon arrival and was now leaving with this mark on my soul.
I decided to leave at first light and head home.
What would you have done?
What would you have done being in a room with mostly strangers, several hours from home where this gross, strange man slapped you right across your derriere while you were elevated on a table pinning a quilt for your daughter’s bed?
Would it be different if I was in a bar, wearing a cute little dress, having a glass of wine with the “girls” or in a boardroom where we make business decisions and everyone is sitting in suits discussing million dollar contracts?
Would it be different then - would you let it pass then?
My husband and I discussed so many ways of responding to this:
Leaving a Google review - which I read through the current ones and they were all glowing
Calling the police and pressing assault charges - was it this serious?
Telling everyone at the retreat as some of them didn’t quite know what went on?
Beating him up - why didn’t I just slap him back?
But, I did nothing…
I then found out recently he’s done something similar at another quilting retreat to another woman. This time, the gross man took the woman’s phone and sent a message to her husband about masturbation.
Really, creepy man, you did this again?
I’m not sure what to do now. It still stings once in a while, my face reddens, and I’m triggered by this feeling from that time that feels recent, but it’s been more than a year.
When does it get easier?
When does it lessen?
When does it go away?
Author Bio
Ellen Jean is the pen name of a person who feels violated. Ellen Jean is a human. After that, she’s a wife, mom, daughter, quilter, and gentle soul who feels deeply. She says:
“To be human means to have self-awareness, to teach and learn information to and from ourselves and to and from other beings. Being human means to feel every emotion, especially deeper than any animal ever could. We're all different, and that's what makes us human.
What does it mean to be human? To me it means to share knowledge to empower people, it means to support, it means to rub my daughter’s back at night, it means to be okay with the past.”
