< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.

 

I was in school at the time. I had a teacher who was about 50 years old, and he would hit on girls from different classes, but mostly on the older students, which is understandable. In my specific case, when we met, he would sometimes put his arm around my waist, pull me close, and even kiss me on the cheek. During class, you could often hear him make crude jokes.

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I remember staying behind for an extra lesson with him, and while explaining the topic, he used the two of us as an example, as if we were a married couple, and so on. If I could somehow protect myself physically, I certainly couldn’t do so emotionally… I know this is that teacher’s second school, and he was fired from his first one, if rumors are to be believed, because of his sexual interest in girls.

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At first, I felt really awkward: I didn’t know teachers could behave that way, and I had no desire to attend his classes, but there was nothing I could do about it. Eventually, I got used to it and kept quiet, because I knew nothing would change drastically.

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Because of many years of sad experiences in my personal life, things aren’t so smooth: I’m afraid of physical contact with boys, and I have no desire to date them because I’m worried that my school experience will come back to haunt me.

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I know that some girls complained about this teacher to the principal, but it all got swept under the rug, which isn’t surprising. But last summer he quit. He said he didn’t like the atmosphere at this school)) yeah right…

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I managed to cope with it, but there are consequences—I wrote about them above… I told my mom and a friend about it. My mom didn’t care; she said I was exaggerating, and my friend was just surprised—that’s all.

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Anonymous author; story shared in 2021 as part of the “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence” campaign