Beware of exploitation (part 3)

Mom called after Susan left. The next evening, we called the police. They showed up at 11pm for a statement; my friend and Susan were with me for it.  Everyone kept saying how I needed to speak up against what he did or he would think he could continue to get away with it.

The next Friday, not only did I pass my exam, but my mom and I also went to see a family friend who was a counsellor. Mom asked me how I was feeling on Saturday and I said I felt a little better. In the end, the case ended up in court but the bus driver never showed. He received 124 days in jail because of it.  Now I'm happy that I took it to court because I bet I wasn't the only person he’d hurt. I’m glad I could speak out about it.  I am much better and feel safe again using Access Calgary.

This event has opened my eyes a lot about who I can trust and who I can’t. There are a few men in my life that I can trust like my dad and my two brothers-in-law, and a really good friend of mine. I hope they know how lucky I am to have them.

After what happened to me, I urge people to come forward and tell others if this ever happens to you. Don’t be ashamed if it happens; it wasn’t your fault. I’m lucky that the bus driver didn’t do anything else, but in the back of my mind, I wonder what would have happened if I’d kept my mouth shut? That’s why it’s important to be aware of what’s going on when you’re using these kinds of services. Carry a cellphone with you at all times.

It is especially hard for people with disabilities who have no voice to speak up. But it’s really empowering to stand up for your rights. Talk to people who you’re comfortable with, like a counsellor or your parents. They will support you through this rough time.

Sometimes I’m still afraid of going on handi-buses, because of what happened to me. I don’t feel safe. But I’m getting better because now they have cameras on the bus in the front and the back. That makes me feel a little better, but not a whole lot.

Beware of exploitation (part 2)

I didn’t want to go anywhere after that, but I went out the next day with my mom and sisters to a wedding shower for a good friend of ours. I almost called my mom to ask if I could miss out on the shower. I decided to go, but wasn't myself during it. I had already blamed myself and couldn't tell my family what had happened. Mom asked if I was okay and I said I was tired from all the schoolwork (I had been in school for a few months and was having trouble understanding the material and finishing all the work). All weekend, I was tired and crying.  I wanted to tell someone but I was too ashamed.  I finally told my caregiver Ann that the handi-bus driver kissed me, but I didn’t tell her the entire story.

I thought I could put it behind me and move on, but when I got on a bus again, it all came back to me. I was scared to take the bus alone. I was supposed to go to school and study because I’d failed an exam last Friday. I had to wait at least four days before I could try it again, but I could not even open a book during the weekend. Every morning, my facilitator and I started our day with a coffee break. I managed to get on the bus and meet her for coffee before I broke down into tears. I explained what had happened and she insisted we call our coordinator.

At school, I was feeling very ashamed of myself. My facilitator encouraged me to tell someone else: someone who I was comfortable talking to and who could support me during this time. Our coordinator agreed to come meet us at the school.  My mind kept going back and forth between keeping quiet or telling someone.  My coordinator insisted on phoning my mother and Access Calgary about what had happened.  I still kept blaming myself and had a hard time agreeing to her idea. Even if I said no, it was already too late. She had to call my mother; it was her job.

That night, Susan called me and asked if she could come over. I didn't feel like seeing anyone or talking so I said no. My mom had called her to say what had happened and she was already on her way.  My sister and I spent that evening writing down what really happened before I forgot.  I asked her not to tell mom all the details, but she said, “Too late Shawna, she already knows.”

Beware of exploitation (part 1)

A little note about services for people with disabilities: Because we rely on other people, we’re also sometimes vulnerable. In Calgary, there’s a service called Access Calgary that drives individuals around who cannot drive (I’ll be talking about this service more later on). I usually feel safe on Access Calgary; I ask the driver every time how many stops there will be before I’m dropped off, and I look out the windows to watch where I'm going.

There was one time where I felt like my life was in danger and I had to speak up about it. It was Friday, May 25, 2007, and I was on my way home from school. I kept watching out the window but could tell that the driver of the bus was staring at me in his rear view mirror. I remembered him from the week before; he’d said I was a beautiful lady, and if he were younger, he’d ask me out.

There was another passenger on the bus when I got on, but the driver dropped him off. We were on the way to my house when he made another stop near a retirement complex. He pulled into a parking lot for an empty building and I thought he had missed his turn on his way to pick someone up. He parked the car in an empty lot. I started feeling apprehensive because I had forgotten my phone at home that day. I kept thinking about how I wanted to go home.

Every time I take Access Calgary, they need to strap in my wheelchair for safety, like someone wearing a seat belt. Unlike a seat belt, I can't remove those straps myself; the driver or someone else needs to do it. I can always stand up and get out of my wheelchair but where could I go without it? Even if I asked the driver to let me off here, I had no way of calling someone to come pick me up.

He got out of the driver’s seat, gave me a hug and then he put his hand on my neck and kissed me.  I thought in my mind then that he was going to rape me and I could not get away.  Then he touched my left breast. He started to put his hand inside my shirt and I told him to take me home right now.  He said he wished we had more time; I just looked down and didn’t answer him. Finally, when he brought me home and was unhooking my wheelchair from the bus, he said, “let’s keep this between me and you.”