Last night, I was violated. Like any woman, it was by an individual, but it was so much more than that.

It’s taking a lot for me to write this, as I must relive the whole thing; what happened was, I had sex with myself against my own will. I have not yet come to terms with this; I don’t fully understand it. It’s as if I was taken by some force beyond my control, and I could not stop.

I wanted to. I didn't want to. It felt so wrong, and yet so right. I was all alone. Nobody could stop me, even if I needed them to. I was deeply confounded. I felt awful, dirty, confused, manipulated, haunted — and relieved. And then I felt guilty, as if I had done something wrong.

I could share more graphic details of the poem that I wrote to myself in my diary, but I will spare you. I was not completely naked, but that did not stop me. It’s as if there were no boundaries at all. Nothing would turn back the force that was making me do this...this thing. And after some thought, I recognized what it was.

It was the patriarchy.

I am not responsible for this deed. According to research, 56% of pornography viewers look at female masturbation. It has been turned into an industry. It is now mandatory. I'm merely a commodity. When I looked at myself in the bedroom mirror, I felt like a product.

While I was doing it, I could not stop watching. I almost felt like I was stealing something, as if I should take out my credit card and pay myself, because I was turning into porno before my own eyes.

And then like all the dirty, dirty men looking at their computer monitors, I experienced an orgasm like I never have before, and I cried out looking into the eyes of someone who seemed like some savage other whom I have never met and did not recognize.