The first time I was sexually assaulted, I was 14. I didn't know I was a lesbian yet and my friend "set me up" with a boy in our class. We had the same period for Geography and our teacher was notoriously lax about supervision. During the class, the boy came to stand behind me at my desk, and began running his hands over my breasts and between my legs while pretending to read over my shoulder. He asked if it was ok and I said no, but he kept doing it anyway. I froze and didn't know what to do. I just kept looking over at my teacher, hoping he would tell the boy to go back to his seat. This went on for a good 30 mins. I was too afraid to say anything for fear of humiliating us both. I never told anyone besides my wife because I thought I was at fault for not speaking up. I didn't even consider it sexual assault because we were both the same age, he didn't rape me, and "that's just what boys do." Around the same time, I went on a pilgrimage with my Catholic Youth Group to Lourdes, France. A group of Austrian soldiers called my friend and I over to take a picture with them. One of them grabbed my ass. They were all in their 20s; again, I was 14.
Even after coming out as a lesbian, male harassment didn't stop. If anything, my sexuality was treated as something to conquer. I was stalked my entire freshman year of high school by a guy who would make sexual jokes about me in front of my friends and send me rape fantasies he had written. I started dating a guy I wasn't interested in solely as a means of protection. Throughout college, I was stalked by strange men on multiple occasions. At an off-campus party with members of my creative writing club, I was cornered by the host, a man old enough to be my grandfather, who started groping me the moment we were alone. Another time, I was followed and cornered by a strange male who blocked off my path with his car behind the dormitories. I was stalked by another man in his car while I was riding my back bike from class. I hid behind a dumpster and called someone to pick me up. He stalked me again later, admitted to following me, and asked if I wanted to go somewhere with him to "talk". I called the police, and they told me I shouldn't be riding my bike in that area. I had no other way to get to class. At my first job, a customer openly stated that he "would love to put a shot into" me. This was at a shooting range, and he wasn't talking about bullets, but it was equally disturbing. My coworkers laughed it off and allowed him to shoot on the range anyway.
I could honestly go on and on. It all started at puberty and didn't stop until I hit my mid-20s. I still carry a gun on me anytime I'm alone in my house with a strange man.