The Pain of Others' Disbelief

I woke up to a call from the woman in charge of my sexual harassment case against a man who used to work at the US Embassy in Yemen. Her first words were, "Well, there is a little problem." She continued to tell me that the harasser's witness has a story differing from mine. She asked if maybe I remembered the night wrong, "maybe he didn't grab your butt, maybe he was just leaning on your back or shoulder in support because he was drunk?"

This all happened over a month ago, and the following morning when I reported the sexual harassment, I was told that the man would be dishonorably discharged immediately. I was guilt filled that what had happened to me was going to ruin this man's life. He had inappropriately touched me twice, I reported both incidents, and he deserved some kind of punishment, but I wasn't sure how I felt about his career being terminated.

As soon as I vocalized my concern I was laughed at by the US Embassy's Regional Security Officer in Yemen. He said there is a zero tolerance policy at the US Embassy, and there was no way they were going to stand for what had happened to me.

So now I am frustrated that this sexual harassment case manager doesn't believe me; I am not worried that he won't be punished. I don't care about revenge. I would have been fine if they just had him apologize and do community service or if it would have just been put on his record. But now that they might not believe me, now I am angry. I guess this is the way it works in the real world when you take a case to the courts, especially if you are in a position like I am now, without a lawyer. I have attached my statement below (taking out all the names of US Embassy workers), and below is the case number and how to access the case file when it closes.

Wednesday night March 5^th at the Marine Party, at around 11:45, I was walking with a friend (who is willing to write a statement or help in any way possible) from the far outside tables to the dance floor inside to the Marine House. As we passed close by the ping pong tables I felt a hand on my stomach as a man’s voice said, “Where are you going?” I turned towards him, and when I did not recognize his face I pushed his hand off, pointed my finger at him, and sternly said, “Don’t touch me.” He looked at me in the eyes and said, “Well, fuck you.” He turned back around to his ping pong game. He was wearing jeans and a greenish brown sweater with buttons at the top. He had brown hair and was very chubby. He was short for a man, maybe around 5’7 and in his thirties probably.

Shocked at what just happened, I went to one of the marines. We looked out the window together and I identified the man who had touched me. I told the marine that this man in the sweater had touched my stomach and responded to my comment with ‘fuck you.’ He said, “Jess, I will take care of it.”

I trusted the marine and let it go. I did not see the guy, nor did I actively look for him or check to see if he had left yet. Maybe half an hour or 20 minutes later I was standing outside with the same friend but close to the doorway to the inside dance floor. We stood facing each other as we talked: his back to the doorway, my back to the outside tables.

In the middle of our conversation, I felt someone forcefully grab a hold of my right butt cheek. It was the same man who had touched my stomach earlier. He grabbed it with his left hand as he was walking passed me. He walked with another man in front of him, into the dance floor room (I could not tell if that man was escorting him out, if it was his friend, or just someone that happened to be walking in front of him).

So I ran after him and grabbed his left shoulder with both of my hands and turned him around to face me. I yelled, “Don’t you ever touch me again! This is the second time tonight you have touched me inappropriately!” He turned back around to leave as if I had not said anything to him. Again I used both of my hands to pull his left shoulder around so that he turned to face me. I repeated the same phrases, or very similar to these. I was screaming by this point. He got very close to my face, and just before turning around he said, “Now look who is touching who.” For a third time I spun him around, making what was probably quite the scene and yelled the same and similar phrases with a few cuss words inserted. He walked directly out of the bar.

My friend stood by me the whole time and insisted that I had done the right thing. There was not a single other comment from anyone else at the Marine House that night about what had happened.

The next morning I called my Fulbright adviser at the US Embassy. On her weekend she informed the correct people and got things moving quickly.

And just a few things to add: I was wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and sneakers. I was not drunk. I had never seen this man before that night and only saw him a total of three times: at the ping pong table when he touched my stomach, when I pointed him out to the marine through the window, and as he was leaving and grabbed me. Being a woman, especially a western woman in Yemen can be very degrading; the US Embassy is a place where I hope to return and feel comfortable and respected.

I have spoken to [names have been omitted] today, March 8, 2008, and am turning this case over to them and the US Embassy. I fully trust that their decisions are best. I give them permission to take whatever actions necessary in this case.

March 8, 2008

Jessica Tibbets

Here is CIDs case number: 0033-08-CID609-36322. For a copy of the case file once it's closed (in a few weeks), contact the Crime Records Center thru this website:

http://www.cid.army.mil/foia.htm