I was 22, fresh out of college, and teaching English in Eastern Europe for a year. One morning, on my way to school (from church—not that that matters), I turned down a familiar street to see that there was construction going on. There was only a narrow pathway for me to walk on, and a group of construction workers surrounded it.

I had a bad feeling about it, but I was running late, class was about to start, and this was the only way to get to school, so I went forward, careful not to make eye contact with anyone, clutching my scarf and trying to make myself invisible.

The hands reached out after I passed the first man. And then it was a gauntlet. I couldn’t move quickly, because there was snow and ice on the ground, and they were crowding me in; I could only move as fast as they would let me.

The worst part for me—worse than the groping and touching—was the sound. The sound of snickering. Twenty-one years later I can conjure it up like it was yesterday, and it makes me just as sick to my stomach. I knew beyond the shadow of a doubt, as it was happening, that this was not about sex or lust. These men weren’t so arrested by my beauty that they couldn’t control their ardor—not that that would have been OK either—but no, this wasn’t about that. This was about power. And what made me sick then, and now, is that they had all of it, and I had none.

They did what they wanted to me, without asking, without consent, because they could. They grabbed and they snickered, because they had power.

This is the first time I have ever spoken about this incident. To anyone. So why now?

It all started with a meme. Popular on Facebook the past few days, the meme asks, “If American women are so outraged by Trump’s use of naughty words, then who in the hell bought 80 million copies of 50 Shades of Grey?”

Now, I found the writing so bad that I only made it partially through the first book in the inexplicably popular franchise, but I got far enough to know that the female protagonist gives consent to Mr. Grey’s activities. In fact, she signs a written contract. There is a huge difference between reading a work of fiction about consensual S&M and bragging in real life that you can do what you want to women because you’re a celebrity:

“You know, I’m automatically attracted to beautiful — I just start kissing them. It’s like a magnet. Just kiss. I don’t even wait. And when you’re a star, they let you do it. You can do anything. Grab them by the pussy.”

So, problem number one: E.L. James’ literary travesty is about consensual sex; Trump’s words are about doing what he wants without getting consent. As Sophia Bush pointed out, the word that’s truly offensive in his comment is not pussy—it’s grab.

Problem number two: The guy who says “I don’t even wait,” is running for president.

Now, don’t read this as an endorsement of Hillary. It’s not. Ultimately, this blog is not about the election, or Trump, or Hillary, or even goofy Anastasia Steele mentally doing her happy dance as she nervously nibbles her upper lip (or was it her lower lip?).

Ultimately, this blog is about problem number three: The idea that because a lot of women read a really shitty book about consensual S&M, they forfeit their right to be upset when real abuse is described. Which sounds a lot like “you were asking for it,” “you secretly wanted it,” “look at what you’re wearing—or reading.” Which sounds a lot like rape culture.

Do I think that Hillary is the champion of women’s rights her campaign paints her to be? No. People who are far more politically savvy than I am point out her treatment of rape victims when she was practicing law, and her connections with states that as a matter of course oppress women. I am admittedly not as knowledgeable about that as I perhaps should be, but here’s the thing: even if it’s all true, that doesn’t change this underlying mentality that “boys will be boys” and “women like Christian Grey” is somehow a get out of jail free card for…grabbing, because you have power and you can.

If you think I’m overreacting, check out the exchange I had in response to this meme on Facebook this morning (I blocked out the name of the gentleman who posted the meme and was replying to me, out of respect for his privacy):