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What you see, might not always be real. My first experience of a sexual assault in a lesbian bar did not come from a woman but from a man dressed as if he was to attend an upmarket soiree - instead, he was roaming the dark, pink and fruitful Candy bar down Deen Street. He dressed in an elegant olive green satin blouse tucked into tight off white slim fitted trousers with heels that were fit for a ball. He wore a light brown wig with ginger highlights and a dark but elegant red lipstick. My initial thoughts were ‘what is he doing in a lesbian bar ?’. Though he looked better than most lesbians in the term of dress sense, he had no place in a lesbian bar if he was to grope women and grope he did. I was thrown against the black railings outside the bar, his hand laying firmly on my pelvis whi...