Me Too

I didn’t know what to title this entry until this minute. It’s been a week since I resigned from On The Fire, a cooking show I enjoyed. Chef Robin doesn’t exist on the show once the segments I’ve already recorded have run out.


This story is very personal. It’s my story but it includes a lot of women and surely some men, though we don’t hear about #metoo from men the way we did and still do women. Christine Blasey Ford was dragged through the mud because she was attacked by a boy. Her timeline is about the same as mine. In 1980/81 I was repeatedly groped, pinched and pushed against a wall by a football player. I was 16 and 17 and an absolute nobody in the college town high school. Football player vs nobody. I was so much of a nobody that I’m not in one of the yearbooks. Nobody helped me. Nobody stopped him. It went on for so long that I tried to graduate at the end of my junior year. I met the requirements but wasn’t allowed. I went to school for the mornings of my senior year. No more abuse outside the cafeteria or looking over my shoulder for him as we changed classes in crowded hallways.

There’s a little bit of my story, brought up again when Ford stood her ground, spoke her truth, and was abused in different ways by many people. Brought up again last week in a “joke.” It triggered my PTSD. Flashbacks of his fingers pinching my breasts until I was in pain, in tears, and bruised. I’ll leave it at that tidbit and not go into the rest of the details.

I’m not the scared young girl I was back then. He and I would have different outcomes if it happened today. I do understand how a grown woman can be afraid to speak up. You know what makes this harder for us? Other women who demean us for not speaking up, for being afraid, for not believing us because if it happened we’d have said something.


This joke was posted to the radio show’s Facebook page. It caught me off guard. “Am I being too sensitive about this,” I asked Steve. My ears pulsed from my high blood pressure. My chest tightened it the painfully familiar grip of PTSD as my heart raced. It was hard to breathe. What the fuck? Seriously. What. The. Fuck. It is 2020 for fuck sake and This. Is. NOT. Acceptable. There is NO excuse for not knowing that this bullshit is not acceptable. This is not a little laugh.

Not Me, Not My Reputation

I’m not aligning myself and my reputation with this behavior. It’s not me. It’s not who I am. It’s sure as hell not something I will support.

Where is the justice? Good damned question.

Witch Hunt

“Here is a sad example of the witch hunt caused by the flood of sexual abuse allegations.” Witch hunt? It’s 2020. Still telling this “joke” in 2020. Let’s have a witch hunt for ignorance. I’ll put up the stake and build the fire. Remember this folks, you can’t keep a good witch down.

This is not just a joke about a doctor having sex with a patient. Not just a joke about a vet having sex with an animal. That’s gross enough but to start it out the way this was presented is too much. I can over look a lot. I don’t need to agree with everyone or everything. I knew I was getting into “politically incorrect” when I signed on. This crossed the line. I honestly don’t believe any harm was meant. And I honestly don’t believe there’s any excuse for this behavior when it’s been heavily exposed in the media. Everyone should know better.

I’m sad that I’m no longer part of a show I enjoyed. I’m sad that in this day and age a woman feels the need to flee because of a “joke.”

Moving on. Back to homesteading.