GAZELLE MAGAZINE WOMEN'S HISTORY MONTH EDITION | Page 88

WELLNESS & WELL-BEING
RHONDA SHRUM BODNAR, 42
Real Estate Investor
and Entrepreneur
86
GAZELLE
I
n the summer of 1991, I got my first
real job. I was 15 years old, and not only
was it my first experience in the work
world, it was also my first experience
being around a much older man, who
made me incredibly uncomfortable by the way
he spoke to me and touched me. At the time, I
thought it was normal, and so for a few weeks
I went into work every day, even though I was
utterly creeped out by him. Three weeks later,
he was fired - for sexual harassment.
After more than 25 years in the work world,
I could recount hundreds of stories of men
who have treated me inappropriately. From
obscene commentary to outright groping,
it became so commonplace that I became
utterly complacent, not only expecting the
lewd behavior, but oftentimes (when I was
older) participating in it. At some point in my
30s, I decided that the only way to truly get
ahead was to “play the game,” putting up with
disgusting behavior from some men, and even
allowing or encouraging that behavior from
men I considered my “buddies.” 
Admittedly, by the time the #MeToo
movement came along, I had normalized
my life experiences so much that my stories
became a sort of blur. But as friend after friend
posted her story on social media, my mind
started replaying all the things I had ignored
and forgotten. There was the man old enough
to be my grandfather, who liked giving me neck
rubs when I was a cashier at 17. The fraternity
boy at college, who forcefully held me down
when I told him I didn’t want to have sex, and
only let me up when his buddies heard me
scream; the constant references from male co-
workers saying we could always have sex if I
wanted ... wink, wink … just a joke, right?
One of the most vile instances I recall was
the married man, who would corner me in a
work hallway and whisper - in rank, hot breath
- about what he had eaten that day and how it
would make him “taste sweeter” if I performed
oral sex on him. Hot shame and anger spilled
into my red cheeks, my heart beating in my
throat every time he came near me.
Instead of punching him or reporting him, I
just laughed it off. I thought, in my naivety, that
it made me stronger. I wish I could go back and
tell myself then that strength doesn’t mean
denying what you know is right. I would tell
her “you are worth so much more.”
The #MeToo movement has changed my
soul. I’ve always been a fighter, but I no longer
fear fighting loudly. Never again will I allow
someone to treat me as less.