It started small. A lingering look here, a hand brushing mine “by accident” there. I told myself I was imagining things, after all, he was my respected senior. But the truth hit me slowly, like a drip of cold water. It was obvious I was the target.
One afternoon, he cornered me near the kitchen. “You know, it’d be perfect if you gave me a chance outside of work,” he whispered. I froze. My mind raced. Excuse me, what chance? We’re at the office. I managed a quiet, “I’m not interested,” and hurried away, my heart hammering.
But it didn’t stop.
Emails with suggestive comments kept coming in, obscene messages on WhatsApp, late at night, asking if I was “thinking about him.” It became unbearable. I started avoiding him, changing my schedule, even skipping work just to avoid encountering him. My productivity dropped, my confidence waned, and I felt like I was shrinking in the space that was supposed to be mine.
Finally, I couldn’t take it anymore. I decided to report him to HR. I drafted everything carefully. I added the times, dates, messages, and incidents. That morning, I walked into the office, my hands shaking, and laid it all out. I expected shock, support, maybe even immediate action. What I got instead was disbelief.
“Are you sure you didn’t misinterpret or lead him on?” one HR officer asked, leaning back in his chair.
“I’m sure,” I said, my voice firmer than I felt.
“People talk,” he said, looking at me like I was overreacting. “He’s a respected senior. I’m sure there’s more to it that’s not being said.”
I couldn’t believe it. I felt my stomach drop, a mix of anger and humiliation. Here I was, trying to protect myself, and the system that was supposed to protect me was failing. I left that office feeling smaller than ever, like I had confessed a crime I didn’t commit.
After that, the harassment didn’t stop. If anything, it intensified. He knew I had no recourse. I became hyper-aware, constantly checking my emails, my phone, my movements, fearing each encounter.
I confided in a friend, a colleague I trusted. “You need to document everything,” she said. “And maybe think about transferring or leaving.” It was the first practical advice I’d gotten, because HR certainly wasn’t helping.
Now, I’m still at that company, dealing with the toxic environment, learning to assert boundaries, and considering my next move. Every day is a balance between surviving and standing up.
“I am not the problem,” I keep telling myself.
It’s a lonely, exhausting fight. But I’ve realised that silence only empowers them. And even if HR didn’t believe me, I will not let my voice be silenced.
