Trigger warnings: Sexual assault and sexual harassment
I want to thank anyone who participated in the “Me Too”
campaign, because you inspired me to get my story into words and onto paper.
Thank you to the founders of the campaign, the ones who participated, and the
one who encouraged me to write this out.
The first time I was assaulted, I was a sophomore in
college, 19 years old. He told me he was doing it for me, that I should be
happy because he was doing it to please me and he wasn’t even asking for
anything in return. He stayed and slept next to me that whole night. I told
very few people at the time because I had a boyfriend. Those I did tell had
mixed reactions. Some empathized with me and told me I had said no, so it
wasn’t my fault. Others said things like “Well at least he didn’t rape you,”
and “What does your boyfriend say?” I also did not fully recognize it for what
it was at the time, so after a while, I just started telling people that I
cheated, I was drunk and so I hooked up with another man, even though that was
not the true story. That was less embarrassing to tell a person than the truth;
that someone had done something to me against my will. I buried it, negated it,
and diminished it until it was only a minor event in my previous life.
The second time was three years later, after college, when I
thought I had left all the abuse and trauma of my previous partner behind. He was a friend of a friend and so I assumed
I could trust him like I trusted my friend. This man raped me. After, as I sat
on the couch sobbing, I asked him, “Didn’t you hear me say no and to stop?”
thinking that maybe I was crazy and I had only been saying those things in my
head. His response was that he had, in fact, heard me say those things. But he
didn’t think I meant them. There are no words to describe the feeling of
someone admitting that they knew your desires and feelings but still doing what
they wanted to you. I left that morning, not even taking the time to find my
underwear.
Later that day, the man found me on social media and sent me
a message, telling me what an amazing person I was and how he was so taken by
me. Shortly after that, he sent me another message, saying that he had talked
to our mutual friend. I had told our friend that I had said no, that he had sex
with me anyways. My rapist said that he guessed I didn’t see what happened the
previous night the same way he did and that he wished me the best and a great
life. My sister was the first person I saw when I returned that morning. I was
shaking, not able to cry because I couldn’t feel anything. I felt emptiness. I
will never be able to adequately thank her enough for what she did for me by
just being there and telling me it wasn’t my fault.
For those who have never been through this before, I hope
you never have to. But the feeling you have after someone has just taken
something from you that you did not want to give is almost impossible to
describe. For months, I felt like I was falling, with no end in sight. I
constantly felt on the verge of tears but never able to cry. I jumped at
everything, thinking my next attacker was going to come out of nowhere. I
became meek, unable to laugh at things that usually made me laugh, and felt a
continuous sense of desperation.
On top of being raped, I had a partner at the time. One who
I loved deeply and still do today. Telling him was the single hardest thing I
have ever had to do. His initial response was understandable, one of confusion
and anger, because I was also confused. I could not find the accurate words to
tell him what had happened. I automatically blamed myself, as victims of this
kind of crime are taught to do. However, once it became clear what had actually
happened, he was (and is) the most supportive person I could have asked for. He
sprang into action, figuring out ways to help and when he could not, found
others who could. He is the love of my life and there is not a day that goes by
where I do not give thanks for his patience and the fact that he did not just
walk away after that first phone call.
After that, the reactions were mixed, but mostly positive. My
friends sat with me, cried with me, and gave me the space to not be okay. They
went with me to get tested and held my hand through it all. After the first
doctor I went to refused to give me plan B because “it would be impossible for
me to be pregnant,” I went to Planned Parenthood where they treated me with
great compassion and care. My family was there for me in a huge way, visiting
me and checking on me constantly. I had to explain over and over why I chose
not to call the police or report it, each time having to question my decision
again and again. I found a counselor at the Rape Crisis Center who helped me
make great strides in processing my trauma and whose lessons I think about to
this day.
The lasting effects of my assaults and abuses are
everywhere. I hate being alone with men. Immediately following my rape, if I
was alone with a male coworker, I was also searching for doors to get out of. I
started having panic attacks as a result of the rape and I still have them. I
walked away from the church because I heard from too many people who knew what
had happened that God “protects us” and that bad things “happen for a reason.”
The amount of anger that I hold within me is more than it
ever has been in my life. I am angry with my rapist. I am angry with men
because they are the ones who perpetrate these crimes, even though there are
good men and not all men are rapists or commit sex crimes. I am angry that I
have to be here, as a survivor, and comfort men who are questioning their
previous behavior. I am angry with God that this happened and that it has
impacted me for so long.
Not all consequences of these abuses have been negative. I
have seen the most beautiful and compassionate parts of humanity through my
friends and family who have been there for me. I’ve gone through several years
of therapy, learning things about myself that I would not have otherwise. And
while sexual assault can be the most singularly isolating event in a person’s
life, I have found such community through it. It is tragic that that is how
community has to be built, but the support and empathy that survivors have for
each other is an amazing thing. When you are a survivor, you feel as if no one
could ever feel the way you do right then. But then when you open up, you
realize that, sadly, there are others who do feel like you do and want you to
take comfort in each other.
Being a survivor has also taught me to be who I am,
unapologetically. Before I recognized how these events have shaped me, I used
to apologize for parts of myself. Then, when I was raped, I didn’t want to
apologize for that part of me, it was something I couldn’t help. It was also
something that people needed to know about me before I felt that I could be
truly myself. The assault and all its consequences were now a part of me and
something that came with having a relationship with me. I realized that I
shouldn’t have to apologize or hide any part of me; that it was who I was. So,
through a twisted and awful event, I found a way to be more authentically and
unapologetically me.
This is not to say that days are not hard, because they are. I
am almost three years out from my last assault and just now there are some days
when I don’t think about it. But then there are other days where it is all I
can think about. Therapy has helped to heal those wounds, but there are some
things that smack me in the face and make it hard to escape the fact that I was
raped or assaulted or abused.
My hope in writing this is not to glorify myself or being a
survivor, it is that somebody takes comfort in my story. Whoever you are, you
are not alone. You are loved, you are powerful, and you are a survivor. You can feel what you feel and do not let
anyone try to diminish your story or your voice. Do not feel pressure to talk
about it or not to talk about it, that is your choice and your choice alone.
You have power and control over you.
It’s taken me this long to be able to put this all down on
paper because of fear of what consequences might come if I did put it out there.
However, the bravery of people around me who have laid out their stories in
recent weeks and months has encouraged me to do this. Survivor’s stories should
be shared because they expose the root of the problem of rape culture and
misogyny our society suffers from today.
If anyone reading this needs to talk or ask questions, you know where to find me.
