The reason is because it happened to me. One evening, when I was six, he offered to babysit me and my older sister at his house. He could do these pitch-perfect character voices, and in that way, he was charismatic and appealing to children. The werewolf would howl, he said, his thirst for the blood of children relentless, until one night he came charging through a window of a house trying to catch the little girl inside. The broken glass pierced his throat, and then he was dead, his head hanging over the sill, blood dripping down the wall to the floor. And then my sister went to bed, and I sat in his small, dimly lit kitchen, on his lap, as he nuzzled my hair and then my ear and neck, and squeezed me hard and soft at the same time.
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James Abbott McNeill Whistler - Wikipedia
Earlier this year, I went on a date with a man who told me he had a thing for Asian women. We were sitting across from each other at a table in a fancy restaurant and he stood up to do a head-to-toe scan of me. I am sick of being fetishised because of racist stereotypes about "small and compliant" Asian women. Credit: Stocksy. I told myself to run. Here was yet another man with what is not-so-jokingly referred to as Yellow Fever: the lazy and discriminatory hyper-sexualisation and fetishisation of Asian women, primarily by white men, solely based on race. When I tried to break it off with him, he texted: "I hate you.
Because I am small and Asian, I am fetishised by some white men
I crawled out of bed, still wearing my Cracker Barrel uniform from the night before and managed to make my way over to the coffee machine. I grabbed my pumpkin spiced coffee, walked over to the couch, and opened his laptop. It was like the television was somehow warning me. My whole body went numb. My thoughts began to race.
In October , I attended a pop concert against my parents' wishes. By the end of the night I had been gang raped in circumstances similar to those alleged by the year-old girl accusing several men, including Premiership footballers, of raping her at the Grosvenor House hotel. The men who raped me weren't celebrities and they weren't even rich. In reality they were nobodies. But to me, a year-old girl, only 4ft 11in tall, with very limited experience of the world, they were glamour personified.