It has nothing to do with skin color and everything to do with cultural upbringing. But if we’re going to talk about stereotypes, then I will have to declare from personal experience: Asian men are the best ones to date.
During the first couple of weeks in my cocoon, I was a walking nervous breakdown: There was nothing to distract me from all of the stupid things I’d done to get in my own way, which was an overwhelming epiphany.
I shivered on the table as she, this total stranger who was about to examine my vagina, condemned and disparaged my most private battle. I was already laid bare, literally, making me feel enormously vulnerable and awkward.
My story is about what I went through, trying and failing to protect her and the tragic inaction by police, social workers and the family court system that created a nightmare I never thought we’d escape.
I’m a human being that deals with mental illness in self-destructive ways, not a bunch of orifices for you to poke because you think my reckless treatment of my body somehow cancels out my autonomy over it.
I had been told by several doctors, at this point, that it was likely all in my head. I was a young woman, a high achiever, type A, Ivy-Leaguer, who probably was stressed and my body was shutting down.
Her bedroom consisted of my chair, a mattress with sheets, a towel, a bottle of lotion and a bottle of lube. At different times I found lingerie, a Valentine’s Day stuffed animal, and a poorly written high-school assignment marked 70 percent.