While working in the studio last Saturday I was listening to a program on CBC radio called White Coat, Black Art and they were featuring stories of up-and-coming female doctors who have been harassed, abused and even assaulted by the higher-ups who are supposed to be mentoring them into the world of medicine. During the interviews, as a steady stream of women spoke of their experiences, I was creating a new design and as my pencil worked the lines my mind started drifting and an idea was borne.
The Me Too Movement has taken center stage in the media and it’s well overdue. A few brave women started the ball rolling and now others are finding their voice and unburdening their terrible truths, letting the world know that we will no longer stand by and take it anymore.
Before jumping into the rug hooking forum, I was a young woman in a male dominated work force. I was lucky, never having been pressured or bullied into doing anything that crossed a line. Once, while I was still single, I had a little office fling, a lot of harmless flirting that never went any further than smiles and chatting on the phone. I wasn’t interested in having him as a boyfriend, after coming out of a bad marriage and then kissing a few toads, all I needed was a bit of an ego boost until it fizzled out.
I was one of very few women in the company, so relationships formed with men, friendships that is, and I used to go to lunch with some of the guys. Unfortunately, one or two of them tried to get friendlier in a subtle, non-threatening way, men behaving badly more than harassment, and they were more peers than someone governing over me. A wise person once warned me in a vulgar, yet matter-of-fact kind of way, “Never poop where you eat Christine” and it stuck so I never wanted to get involved in office romances. Besides, most of the men were older, some the age of my father but if my co-workers had been younger, perhaps underwear model quality, maybe it would have been worth dipping my toe in a little hot water.
One guy I played chess with during break, not so subtly, begged me to kiss him after the Christmas Eve party and too many rum and cokes, but he was married and I would never cross that line and it put an end to that friendship. I learned that it was difficult nurturing causal relationships with some men, stories would come out about how their wives neglect or misunderstand them, the hint of hopeful prospects rearing its ugly head.
And then there was, let’s call him Dave. He was someone I really thought I could trust, but spread a nasty rumor when he helped me deliver a rug to my apartment in his car at lunch, that I’d purchased at Sears. I thought he was harmless, he and his wife had been in my home before, we all went to dances together but he told the good ole boys club back at the plant that he “laid more than my rug” that day. I wondered if anyone really believed it considering I was half his age and twice his size. Boy, if naivety was an Olympic sport I’d have brought home the gold. I still don’t understand why he did it, what was the payoff?
One of the foremen from the plant floor phoned me to say that Dave was bragging about a conquest and filled me in. He told me that he thought I was really nice and didn’t deserve it. It had to be true, how did anyone know I’d bought a rug? I asked Dave why he said it and although he denied it at first, he eventually laughed, telling me it was nothing, that’s just what men do. Really? That was a very educational tidbit for sure and one to keep in the back of the mind for future reference. That was it for Dave and the end of friendships in general with men where I worked. I wasn’t willing to be a fantasy notch in any small minded man’s belt. From then on, I ate alone at my desk and read during break.
Then there was the annual kiss, no longer acceptable in today’s work environment but common practice years ago. Once again, the office Christmas Eve gathering, the afternoon we received our turkeys and exchanged gifts and had a bit of rum punch. That’s when the boss came at us with puckered lips. We office girls didn’t look forward to it but it was nothing more than a peck, no lingering or touching, just a quick smack, perhaps a hug and a bunch of Merry Christmas Wishes. At the time, it was accepted as ordinary, no one got their back up or put any stock in the action and it was forgotten immediately.
Really, the only experience of line crossing I can relay came from further up the food chain by the general manager of the company. We were at the annual Christmas dance and while mingling I was standing in a circle of guys chatting. They were all telling jokes, clean ones and funny, and when I offered my old standby and laughed at the punch line, I gently elbowed him, so softly my drink didn’t even slosh in the glass but within the beat of a hummingbird’s wing, his hand reached down and WHOMP!, he grabbed my butt, pushing my hips forward in the force and spilled my drink. The shock had my mouth in gear even before my brain connected and I shouted above the music, “What the HELL did you do that for?”
His response matched the speed of the grab. “You touched me first”, he said, nodding his head as he dumped all the blame at my feet. Boy, all I could think was, that was one hell of a hair trigger, knee jerk response to a light tap on the arm. I shot him a look of disgust and walked away. I thought about the incident plenty, trying to analyze if I’d done something wrong but came to the conclusion, he was a class A ka-nob, pure and simple. For the life of me I couldn’t understand what he got out of a handful of my arse or why he’d do it. Was it supposed to turn me on, be some sort of moronic foreplay? Me being from Venus, I don’t get the Mar’s state of mind. Nope, I don’t get them at all.
Anyway, that was all my experiences in the work force and I know I got off lucky compared to so many. It’s almost an epidemic of sexual harassment and abuse.
So I’ve designed a ME TOO pattern for all the women finding their voice and standing tall for the truth. Sistas unite! ALL FOR ONE AND A RUG FOR US ALL!
The rug can sport many colours of hands, especially the two hands clasped together in solidarity. The colour shots can be in the sleeves and clothing and lettering of the words. Don’t forget painted fingernails, French tips and plashes of bold colour for the fancy nail art of today’s manicures.
And if you are not into the Me Too Movements, take out the words and hook all the lovely hands. The pattern is 22 1/2" x 37 1/2". $74.95 on linen
The Me Too Movement has taken center stage in the media and it’s well overdue. A few brave women started the ball rolling and now others are finding their voice and unburdening their terrible truths, letting the world know that we will no longer stand by and take it anymore.
Before jumping into the rug hooking forum, I was a young woman in a male dominated work force. I was lucky, never having been pressured or bullied into doing anything that crossed a line. Once, while I was still single, I had a little office fling, a lot of harmless flirting that never went any further than smiles and chatting on the phone. I wasn’t interested in having him as a boyfriend, after coming out of a bad marriage and then kissing a few toads, all I needed was a bit of an ego boost until it fizzled out.
I was one of very few women in the company, so relationships formed with men, friendships that is, and I used to go to lunch with some of the guys. Unfortunately, one or two of them tried to get friendlier in a subtle, non-threatening way, men behaving badly more than harassment, and they were more peers than someone governing over me. A wise person once warned me in a vulgar, yet matter-of-fact kind of way, “Never poop where you eat Christine” and it stuck so I never wanted to get involved in office romances. Besides, most of the men were older, some the age of my father but if my co-workers had been younger, perhaps underwear model quality, maybe it would have been worth dipping my toe in a little hot water.
One guy I played chess with during break, not so subtly, begged me to kiss him after the Christmas Eve party and too many rum and cokes, but he was married and I would never cross that line and it put an end to that friendship. I learned that it was difficult nurturing causal relationships with some men, stories would come out about how their wives neglect or misunderstand them, the hint of hopeful prospects rearing its ugly head.
And then there was, let’s call him Dave. He was someone I really thought I could trust, but spread a nasty rumor when he helped me deliver a rug to my apartment in his car at lunch, that I’d purchased at Sears. I thought he was harmless, he and his wife had been in my home before, we all went to dances together but he told the good ole boys club back at the plant that he “laid more than my rug” that day. I wondered if anyone really believed it considering I was half his age and twice his size. Boy, if naivety was an Olympic sport I’d have brought home the gold. I still don’t understand why he did it, what was the payoff?
One of the foremen from the plant floor phoned me to say that Dave was bragging about a conquest and filled me in. He told me that he thought I was really nice and didn’t deserve it. It had to be true, how did anyone know I’d bought a rug? I asked Dave why he said it and although he denied it at first, he eventually laughed, telling me it was nothing, that’s just what men do. Really? That was a very educational tidbit for sure and one to keep in the back of the mind for future reference. That was it for Dave and the end of friendships in general with men where I worked. I wasn’t willing to be a fantasy notch in any small minded man’s belt. From then on, I ate alone at my desk and read during break.
Then there was the annual kiss, no longer acceptable in today’s work environment but common practice years ago. Once again, the office Christmas Eve gathering, the afternoon we received our turkeys and exchanged gifts and had a bit of rum punch. That’s when the boss came at us with puckered lips. We office girls didn’t look forward to it but it was nothing more than a peck, no lingering or touching, just a quick smack, perhaps a hug and a bunch of Merry Christmas Wishes. At the time, it was accepted as ordinary, no one got their back up or put any stock in the action and it was forgotten immediately.
Really, the only experience of line crossing I can relay came from further up the food chain by the general manager of the company. We were at the annual Christmas dance and while mingling I was standing in a circle of guys chatting. They were all telling jokes, clean ones and funny, and when I offered my old standby and laughed at the punch line, I gently elbowed him, so softly my drink didn’t even slosh in the glass but within the beat of a hummingbird’s wing, his hand reached down and WHOMP!, he grabbed my butt, pushing my hips forward in the force and spilled my drink. The shock had my mouth in gear even before my brain connected and I shouted above the music, “What the HELL did you do that for?”
His response matched the speed of the grab. “You touched me first”, he said, nodding his head as he dumped all the blame at my feet. Boy, all I could think was, that was one hell of a hair trigger, knee jerk response to a light tap on the arm. I shot him a look of disgust and walked away. I thought about the incident plenty, trying to analyze if I’d done something wrong but came to the conclusion, he was a class A ka-nob, pure and simple. For the life of me I couldn’t understand what he got out of a handful of my arse or why he’d do it. Was it supposed to turn me on, be some sort of moronic foreplay? Me being from Venus, I don’t get the Mar’s state of mind. Nope, I don’t get them at all.
Anyway, that was all my experiences in the work force and I know I got off lucky compared to so many. It’s almost an epidemic of sexual harassment and abuse.
So I’ve designed a ME TOO pattern for all the women finding their voice and standing tall for the truth. Sistas unite! ALL FOR ONE AND A RUG FOR US ALL!
The rug can sport many colours of hands, especially the two hands clasped together in solidarity. The colour shots can be in the sleeves and clothing and lettering of the words. Don’t forget painted fingernails, French tips and plashes of bold colour for the fancy nail art of today’s manicures.
And if you are not into the Me Too Movements, take out the words and hook all the lovely hands. The pattern is 22 1/2" x 37 1/2". $74.95 on linen
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