I’ll be honest. I don’t know quite where to start this post. All I know is, as a woman in the lifestyle, one who is preparing to go to an event next weekend, one who is a survivor of the worst men can offer women, I am conflicted.

I have written before about what an eye opener my experiences in the lifestyle have been. How completely revolutionary it was to realize most of y’all are firm believers in consent. And women’s autonomy. And the right for a partner to say no at any damn point they feel like it.

I have written about walking through a lifestyle resort in five-inch heels and a thong bodysuit, alone, in the dark, without a care in the world. I don’t think any of you can understand what a mind fuck that is.

Outside that very privileged bubble, that is not reality. Not for me, not for my friends, not for any woman anywhere.

When this kind of news breaks, stories about women being utterly violated and their humanity negated, reduced to mere “free pussy” available to any damn frat boy without a conscience, it hurts us all.

We are forced to remember the moments we’d like to forget. Not just the men who have hurt us, although we all have plenty of stories about those. But those who made us feel unsafe. Less than. Objectified against our will. 

And when we look at you, we wonder: are you one of them? Were you? Could you still be if you caught us alone, drunk, and unaware?

I’d like to think not. But I’ll bet the mamas of every single one of the 50+ fraternity bros included on that Snapchat thread thought they had raised good men. 

I don’t want to be wrong about you. I want to trust you. To know that if I take my clothes off in front of you, if I let you see the most vulnerable parts of me, even tie me up or hold me down on the bed, you would listen to me if I said no. You wouldn’t hesitate to back off, give me space, cuddle me, whatever it was I needed.

Can I? Can I trust you? Tell me I can.

Better yet: prove it. Not just to me, but every woman you encounter. When shit hits the fan, say something. Do something.

Be the fucking hero Jane Doe needed. 

The hero we all fucking need, whether we like it or not.

Please.