I worked as an art director and Bill was my boss. It was a small company that made litigation graphics. Major law firms hired us to provide their attorneys with eight-foot-high charts to display during trials. The lawyers would point like Vanna White to charts for the jury to see from 20 feet away.

I said, “Good morning, Bill.”

The three graphic designers I shared the room with and the four from an adjoining room gathered round Bill to launch the morning ritual of stomach-turning sucking up.

“Bill, you look terrific. Great color for you,” Alicia said.

“How was your weekend with the family upstate?” Leo asked.

Big David starts in about football, “Did you catch the game, Bill?”

I just couldn’t stand it anymore, so I grabbed a stack of folders and headed off to the copy machine with my design layouts. Bill came into the narrow room and leaned against the door frame.

“Busy copying?” he asked.

“Yup,” I responded to the painfully obvious question.

Bill walked over and stood way too close. Without warning he leaned in, reached his hand down and yanked the seat of my cotton stretch pants.

“Baggy pants,” he said disapprovingly.

I whirled around and blurted out, “Don’t touch my pants,” and scurried out of the room.

“Why are you always so militant?” he called out after me.

I winced. My arms burned, my stomach churned, and I was sweating. Once back at my desk, I began putting the copied pages into their corresponding job folders. ‘Damn,’ I thought. The whole reason I wore the baggy pants was so he’d stop staring at my ass.

Every day I went home and combed the want ads in the Times, but I couldn’t find anything even close. I was making good money as a designer, had excellent dental and medical benefits, profit sharing, three weeks paid vacation and 12 paid sick days.

It seemed like it would be idiotic to quit. We worked on exciting highly publicized cases like a John Gotti trial, the Central Park jogger case and the Exxon Valdez oil spill. In many ways I loved the job. The work was fun and challenging. My co-workers and I liked to talk about movies and books, and I adored my supervisor, Leo, who shared my kooky sense of humor. But Bill … Bill was a sexist pig and a bully.

Another day Bill slithered up beside me. He was a foot taller than me, so when he put his arm around me as if he was my buddy sliding a hand around my waist, his hand brushed up against and rested on the lower part of my right breast due to our height difference. I felt sure that this “accidental” fondling was intentional. I froze. I wanted to kick myself later for not calling him on it. This was a man who insisted we attend his office pool party every summer.

Bill had a large second home outside of the city. During my first pool party initiation he took me on a tour. Bill showed me the master bedroom and master bathroom. He pointed to the custom-made shower that had a ledge built in. He said, “That’s so my wife and I can do one of those things married people do.” He gestured with his hand to make it clear he was talking about a blow job. I was aghast. Every year after that I tried to figure out a way to skip the pool party. But the one time I did, he tortured me about it for a year.

One day my co-worker Sherri ran over to me, crying. She showed me her weekly time sheet, with a note in Bill’s handwriting. It said, “I’m very attracted to you.” Bill was 68 years old at the time. Sherri and I were both 26. He was married to his third wife. I felt like scrubbing the time sheet with hand wipes. “What should I do?” Sherri asked me, a worried look on her face.

I didn’t have the answer. For the past month I had been trying to organize the other six women at work to bond together so we could sue Bill for sexual harassment, or at least confront him. Not one of them would agree to help. I tried cajoling them. When that didn’t work I tried getting them as mad as I was, but they all seemed passive.

“How long do you want him to slither his hands across your boob when he’s pretending to hug you?” I asked. They accused me of being too dramatic. I accused them of being in denial.

Day after harassing day, Bill would walk up behind me as I sat at my desk. He would slide his huge meaty hands around my neck until his fingertips touched. It felt like a combination of him wanting to seduce me and strangle me. Each time it happened, I was rendered paralyzed and speechless. One day I’d had it and said, “Don’t touch me!”

That started an ongoing office humiliation that would last for the entire eight years I continued to work there. Bill would sneak up behind me, and he would start to put his hands around my neck but would stop less than an inch away. Then he would make sure that he had an audience and say in a mocking tone, “Oops! No touchy.” All of the brownnosers would give it a hearty laugh and the blood would rush up to my face and ears.

My friends and my feminist mom often demanded an explanation for why I wasn’t taking this man to court. Bill was brilliant; he knew a lot about the law, and he was rich and could afford much better lawyers than I could. I was afraid of being ripped apart on the stand as rape victims often are. I was reluctant to spend all of my meager savings on lawyers and afraid of being fired.

One day I returned from an approved day off. Bill blocked my way to my desk and used his deep, flirty voice, “Ms. Olds” — he always called me that — “please see me in my office immediately. And bring the layouts that are on your desk.” I did as he asked. He shut the door and said, “So, a day off? Are you in love?” I replied, “That’s not something I will discuss.”

He slammed his fist down onto his desk, lurched towards me and demanded, “Why are you so combative? We are a family around here.”

“Bill, I have a family. This is where I work. Let’s talk about the layouts.”

My friend Lorraine gave me an 11″ x 17″ sign that said “What part of NO don’t you understand?” She suggested that I put it on the bulletin board behind my desk. I did. I wanted to believe it would help, but only two co-workers ever mentioned it. Both were female.

Temps often worked the phones at the front desk. There was one large, sassy, redheaded Southern gal named Lucy. She pulled me aside one day, about three years after I had begun working at the firm, and said that I should know that the men doing the same job I was doing were paid more than I was. This was a tricky bit of information. How could I bring it up with Bill without betraying her confidence?

When I had been hired full-time, Bill had assured me that I would receive periodic raises “without even having to ask for them.” This had never occurred. I decided to muscle up some courage and go in for a talk.

“Bill,” I started, “are you pleased with my work?”

“Oh yes,” he said.

“Am I being paid on the same scale as the men?”

“Of course not,” he said.

Did I hear him correctly?

“Ms. Olds, David has a wife and two daughters to support, and mortgage on a house to worry about. It simply would not be fair to pay him the same amount as you.”

I was dumbfounded. Speechless.

The following week I received a raise. Very smarmy way to get a raise, but I was glad to deposit the money.
One day, without my knowledge, Bill took a photo of me. I was leaning over my desk, deep in concentration, working on graphics for a chart. I was wearing an appropriate V-neck top, but at that angle, a hint of cleavage appeared. He passed the snapshot, a zoomed-in view of my breast area, around the office.

Another incident happened while I had to fix chipped type on a chart in a hurry. I knelt down on the floor to quickly restore the chipped ‘H’ on the sign. Bill came through the doorway and said, “Ah, women – just how I like them, on their knees.”

I continued to look for a better job. I went on interviews. My father always warned me never to quit a job until I secured a better one. One November afternoon, Bill called me into his office and told me to close the door. He sat slumped, his brow was furrowed and the sides of his mouth were turned down. “As you know, business has been very slow this year. I am going to cut your salary by half. I’m sorry to give you this news, but I’ve always appreciated your loyalty and I know that you will stand by me during these tough times.” This came as a shock to me and so did my response: “In that case, Bill, I will not be working here any longer.”

It was as if I’d jumped out of a plane with no parachute and was in free fall. But the feeling was glorious and the risk paid off. I went into business for myself, which was terrifying at first. I had a mortgage to pay and monthly bills and feared using up the bit I’d managed to save. But within a month I got a full-time freelancing gig designing college textbooks and that year I made twice as much as I’d made working for Bill. I landed more and more creative jobs, web design and print work, and my writing took off.

It’s been years since I worked in an office. My desk is at home and my loyal dog likes my whistling. I make twice as much money and literally whistle while I work. And there is no longer a six-foot-four goon of a boss grabbing the back of my pants.

The post Fight or Be Fondled – Rising Above a Bully of a Boss appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

In other words, she is an original. By using her voice to help others, Blake has become a top influencer. You will find her writings in essays, articles, blog posts, and social media messages that are all over the web. In addition to top internet outlets, and her byline includes appearing in major print magazines.

As a result of her hard work – and determination to help others – Melissa Blake is a fiery activist educating the world. In addition, Blake is now the author of a memoir: Beautiful People: My Thirteen Truths About Disability. The book’s release date is March 5, 2024. However, it is available for pre-order now.

Here is one of her brilliant tweets that went viral.

During the last round of trollgate, people said that I should be banned from posting photos of myself because I’m too ugly. So I’d just like to commemorate the occasion with these 3 selfies… ???? 

— Melissa Blake @melissablake

Years ago, Blake wrote to me after seeing my New York Times essay about teen rape. Her kind words gave me comfort and she shared parts of her life with me. Although our experiences weren’t the same, we bonded over surviving trauma and a shared mission to help others.

I have experienced Blake’s kindness firsthand. We met when Blake reached out to me after reading my essay Defriending My Rapist which was published in The New York Times.

Centennial Cats

Blake said yes to an interview for my recent assignment for Centennial Animals, a sub-division of Centennial Media. Inside Your Cat’s Mind is a popular magazine series. I did a deep dive into why cats are not officially-approved service animals. Despite the myth that cats aren’t trainable, of course, they are. Just ask a cat trainer!

Cat Trainer Melissa Millet

Dr. Melissa Millet, one of Hollywood’s go-to animal trainers, rescued five cats. She then trained them to star on the silver screen. As a result, her five cats are cast members in the remake of Stephen King’s “Pet Sematary.” These kitties knew nothing about acting until Millet trained them.

Her secret? Patience and kindness. The five furry critters went from non-actors to reaching the top of the crop as cat stars in a major motion picture. As a true-blue animal lover, Millet fights for the rights of animals. Her requirements include supervisors hired to be on set in order to ensure humane treatment. Trainer Millet will never have it any other way.

Back to Blake

Cat lovers like Blake don’t need a certificate to prove heroism in their felines. However, not every residence permits dogs on their premises. And, there are licensed service animals, for example, miniature-horses, that are turned away. Yet, landlords are often agreeable to four-legged feline family members. So, yeah, trained cats have not yet earned their rightful title: “Official Service Animals. Hopefully, that will change in the near future.

See Also: Interviews With Women Writers: Surviving & Writing

Wild About Harry

Blake’s first cat Harry came into her life at a crucial time. It was after her father’s suicide. Sisters Melissa and Joy, and their mother, grappling with grief. “Harry gave us so much love when we needed it most,” said Blake. “We gave Harry a home, thinking that we were saving him. But instead, Harry saved us.”

Blake was born with a rare genetic bone and muscular disorder called Freeman-Sheldon syndrome. After Harry lived a long, full life, the family met two more life-saving cats named Whitney and Stella. “They are precious creatures,” says Blake. “They always remind me to slow down. When I am anxious or depressed, just petting them for even a minute calms me. They have a soothing, loving presence. It is so peaceful.”

And, Blake says, “One of the things I’ve found most interesting, is that none of our cats have been afraid of my wheelchair. Whitney loves sitting in my seat and it reminds me how accepting cats are. Cats never fail to make me smile. They lift my mood.”

Ok folks, I’ll leave you with this #WednesdayBrag

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I had to share this Ms. Foundation statement about the Joe Biden and Kamala Harris Win! “Ms. Foundation applauds President-elect Joseph R. Biden and Vice President-elect Kamala Harris on their monumental victory.”

We are ecstatic to witness the first Black—or South Asian—person and the first-ever WOMAN elected to serve as Vice President of the United States!

Ms. Foundation

Vice President-elect Harris’ achievement builds on the foundation laid by past and present feminists, like Shirley Chisholm, Barbara Jordan, Hillary Clinton, Stacey Abrams, and many others. A joyous congratulations to the Biden-Harris team. And to all those whose collective efforts brought us to this moment.

We recognize the countless and arduous efforts of Black women and women of color, who long have been the backbone of our democratic process. And the many whose grassroots efforts contributed to this crucial win.

We are proud and moved to witness the unquestionable impact of their leadership in one of the most tenuous moments we have faced as a nation. Once again, it could not be clearer that we must prioritize this treasure of our democracy and radically increase support for feminist and women of color leaders whose visionary commitment to justice carries us forward toward a more perfect union.

Ms. Foundation

President-elect Biden’s words on Saturday evening stirred hope. [They] refreshed our spirit for the … road ahead…. All of us need to remain attentive and engaged in the months and years ahead, as we mentioned in our latest statement.

The Ms. Foundation is already hard at work. We won’t falter in this fight. We’ll continue to build feminist power by supporting and amplifying the work of grassroots organizations led by and for women and girls of color until there is full gender and racial equity for all people.

Let’s enjoy a deep breath and then let’s get to it!

In celebration,

Ms. Foundation for Women

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In the searing new documentary The Sentence, we discover that the casualties of the “War on Drugs” extend beyond the millions of Americans harshly punished with prison time—their families suffer the brunt.

About the Filmmaker

Director Rudy Valdez, an American of Mexican descent, began filming his three nieces for his sister Cindy Shank. Why? Because she’d been sentenced to 15 years in federal prison. Her loving brother, the youngest sibling, wanted Cindy to be able to see the girls grow up. The even greater tragedy is her family’s suffering the pain of living without her. The worst crime is Cindy’s children doing time, also—they grew up without their Mom.
As Valdez began fighting to reduce his sister’s draconian sentence, he discovered that the problem of over-sentencing was much larger than his family’s painful tale. Due to the failed “War on Drugs,” nonviolent first-time offenders, like Cindy, received ghastly punishments because the judge had to adhere to the mandatory minimum sentencing laws.

The Girlfriend Problem

Cops and lawyers have a nickname for Cindy’s all-too-common scenario: The Girlfriend Problem. Cindy’s crime was falling in love with the wrong man.

Although it is not shown in the film, we learn that Cindy lived with Alex Humphrey until 2002, when he was murdered by gunshot right outside their home in Lansing, Michigan. When police searched their home for clues to the murder—which is still unsolved—they found more than 40 pounds of cocaine.
Cindy had attempted to leave Humphrey, but he had threatened her. After his death she was free to move on and straighten out her life. She fell in love with a good man, married him and the couple had three children.

The Arrest

Without giving too much away, the police knocked on the door six years later and arrested Cindy. She was charged as a conspirator because she had known about Humphrey’s drug dealing.
At SVA Theatre this past Wednesday, after a pre-screening of the documentary, filmmaker Valdez said, “We can no longer sit around and be okay with people profiting off the backs of the disenfranchised.”
“It’s the rhetoric we hear: hard on crime or you’re soft on crime…. we need to get rid of that crap. You’re either smart on crime or you’re not,” Valdez said. “This film is apolitical on purpose; it doesn’t go into the history, the right or the left, or who started this, or who’s perpetuating this. It’s a hearts and minds film that transcends voting…. There’s a cultural shift that needs to happen in this country.”

Sundance Film Festival to HBO

The film won the Audience Award at this year’s Sundance Film Festival. HBO purchased the film and will air it Monday, October 15. I suggest putting a box of tissues nearby.

—
THE SENTENCE premieres on HBO Monday, October 15, 2018 at 8PM EST. Click here for additional screening times.

The post The War on Drugs Doles Out Harsh Punishments that Harm Children the Most • The Sentence appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

Kate Spade’s death shines light on alarming increase in suicide rates. ©2018 CBS Interactive Inc. All Rights Reserved.

NEW YORK — The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) put out an alarming report Thursday on suicide. Nearly 45,000 Americans took their lives in 2016, more than those who died in car accidents or opioid overdoses. The issue is receiving heightened attention after designer Kate Spade took her own life this week.

A medical examiner on Thursday determined Kate Spade, 55, died from suicide by hanging.

“It’s about mental illness,” said writer Dorri Olds, who said she understands what Spade must have been feeling.

The 56-year-old says she tried to commit suicide multiple times before getting help.

“Even with the best intentions, I don’t think Kate could have snapped herself out of it,” Olds said. “When you’re suicidal, you’re not thinking about anybody else, and it’s not because you’re selfish, it’s because you’re not well.”

Family and friends remember one Kate Spade, but the light that shined through for the cameras came with a darker side behind closed doors that many did not know or understand. Her husband, Andy Spade, said, “There was no indication and no warning that she would do this” and that his wife “was actively seeking help for depression and anxiety over the last 5 years.”

Kate Spade’s father said he spoke to her the night before she died.

https://t.co/3NMYAz8osr

— Jericka Duncan (@Jerickaduncan) June 8, 2018

The CDC study released Thursday shows half of the country has seen a more than 30 percent increase in suicide rates from 1999 to 2016. Among women, 45- to 64-year-olds have the highest rate.

Approximately half of those who committed suicide did not have a known mental health condition. And for those who did, “circumstances such as relationship problems, job/financial or physical health problems … contributed to their suicide,” the report said.

In Spade’s case, her husband says the two had been living apart for the last 10 months.

“Any life stressors that are weighing on someone who has a history of or is currently struggling with their mental health — that’s a person who you have to be worried about,” said psychiatrist Catherine Birndorf.

Birndorf says she hopes Spade’s suicide brings awareness you can’t always see.

“I hope people pay attention to those around them,” Birndorf said. “That if they see someone who is suffering or acting unlike themselves or despairing, hopeless, withdrawing from social activities that they check in on them. They make sure that they are getting the help that they need.”

The report says suicide is rarely caused by a single factor. It suggests many deaths, follow relationship problems substance use or financial issues. Experts say talking to a professional and getting help is the first step toward preventing suicide.

For immediate help if you are in a crisis, call the toll-free National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255), which is available 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. All calls are confidential.

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A health op-ed by Ellen Hershkin, National President, Hadassah, The Women’s Zionist Organization of America, Inc.

Published May, 7, 2018 in Arizona Jewish Post, Southern Arizona’s Award-Winning Jewish Newspaper

The post Health OP-ED Ms. Diagnoses: Women’s Lives Are at Risk appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.

PROTECTING OUR CHILDREN AND GRANDCHILDREN

The post A Mother’s Reaction to her Daughter’s Long Ago Teenage Rape Story appeared first on Award-Winning Writer and Graphic Designer.