No, I’m not shocked by the mass murder that happened last night in Santa Barbara. I’m horrified, distraught, devastated and depressed, but I’m not surprised.
Why not? Because it’s something many of us, who are aware of the anti-woman hatred of certain (scarily popular) online groups, have felt building for years. It’s something many of us were afraid of since we were little kids, well before these online groups brought attention to it: the anger of a man rejected. The anger of a man who hates women.
In seventh grade, I was sitting on the grass with some girlfriends during a track meet, stretching for the next race and chatting. A bunch of boys were being loud and trying to get our attention but we were ignoring them. I’d just broken up with one of them — a tall, seemingly sweet, sensitive boy I’ll call Chris — the day before. My relationship with Chris was standard for my seventh grade experience: we talked on the phone and had shared one slow dance in the cafeteria during a school mixer.
Suddenly a large branch, thrown by Chris, hit me in the face and cracked my nose. It bled and swelled but everybody laughed. I even tried to laugh it off, even though I was scared, hurting and upset. I was too scared not to pretend to think it was funny. Chris claimed to have been joking, wanting us to look over at him and hadn’t meant to hit me. I still have a bump on my nose almost 25 years later and he didn’t get in any trouble.