Sexual assault and domestic violence aren't easy subjects to talk about, even more so when the experiences are your own. In my mind, Dr. Ford is a god damned hero. Although we've been hearing so many stories of sexual assault, it was her testimony that resounded with me. I'd managed to push my own experiences with sexual assault and domestic violence so deep into the darkest corners of my mind, but not anymore. Her story brushed off the cobwebs and shone an uncomfortably bright spotlight on not just one, but all of the sexual assaults I've encountered.
What really fucking triggers me is seeing my friends and FAMILY posting things in support of her abuser, criticizing and questioning the credibility of her testimony, and quite possibly the thing that triggers me the most...the fucking "NOT ALL MEN" posts. Like, we get it, Linda...you've been fortunate enough to have decent men in your life, but don't please, for the love of fuck, DO NOT belittle women who weren't so lucky. I strongly believe that the people who are in support of garbage humans like Kavanaugh, Trump, Moore (this list could fill an entire page) only support them because they don't see the bigger picture. They don't realize that there are women in their life that have been sexually assaulted and/or a victim of domestic violence at some point in their life. So, here I am, hoping that maybe sharing my own experiences will help to open some eyes to why those posts are so hurtful, why most sexual assault and domestic violence go unreported, and most of all...why you should believe survivors of these atrocities.
The first time I was sexually assaulted, I was only 13 years old. I had been in a Jujitsu class for a few months and had finally started making some friends. Low and behold, the first friend I made would go on to rape me. He was a bit younger than me, but definitely had the upper hand due to size. I don't remember a lot of the details because it happened almost 18 years ago, but I know for a fact that it happened, it was violent, it hurt, and I was absolutely traumatized. I waited to tell my parents, I didn't understand what had happened, and I was scared that they wouldn't believe me. Sure enough, once I did finally tell them, they made me go over in detail what happened with the family therapist, and because I had already been identified as a "problem child" the therapist told them (with me in the room) that I was probably making up the story for attention. From that moment on, I believed that I'd never be able to talk to them about these kinds of things and buried that memory as far back in my mind as I could. That was one of the pivotal moments where I began to tell myself, "this was my fault"...thus beginning a long and terrifying road into womanhood.
The second time I was sexually assaulted, I was 21 years old. This is one that I vividly remember and it still haunts me to this day. I had finally been able to break free from the one and only domestic violence situation I had ever been in because the man I had been dating was behind bars. He was eventually released and ordered to go to an inpatient treatment facility in a different city. He had other plans. I had gotten off of work from my new job, when I came around the corner of the office building, I saw his car parked in the lot across the street. My heart instantly jumped into my throat. I tried to hustle my way across the street to make the walk home before he spotted me, but it was too late. He saw me, and he followed me home. I tried to get into my apartment as quickly as possible, I so desperately wanted to get the door shut and deadbolt locked, but he caught up with me and forced his way inside. He went on to hit me, pin me down, cover my mouth and ruthlessly rape me. Once it was over, he just left. I sat on the floor of the shower and cried. I finally mustered up the courage to call a friend to take me to the emergency room to report the assault and press charges. When I got to the ER, the questions that were asked made me feel like the bad guy..."have you had a prior sexual relationship with this person?" "did you shower after it happened, the rape kit might not work if so" "are you sure you want to press charges". In the end, I didn't even get the rape kit done, I went home and locked myself in my apartment for the next 3 days, broken, mortified, and blaming myself for what happened to me, "I should have went back into my office", "I should have called a friend to pick me up to drive me home", "I shouldn't have gone home", "This was my fault".
The last time I was sexually assaulted was almost exactly 3 years ago, I was 27 years old. Details are hazy because I had been drinking, but nonetheless, it still fucked me up. It was a man that I had previously worked with. We were work friends, hung out in group settings, everything was seemingly harmless. One night, after a particularly heavy drinking session, I ran into him while I was walking home. Since we were friends, I didn't think I had anything to be worried about so I invited him over to smoke a bowl and shoot the shit. One of the last things I remember before blacking out, was finishing the bowl and telling him I was going to go to bed soon so he needed to leave. I suspect he punched me because I had a gnarly bruise on my jaw (among other places) the next day. When I came to, I had my shirt and bra pulled up to my chin with him pinning me to the floor right in front of my front door. I kicked and struggled, and finally found my voice and started yelling at him. He stood up, pulled me up and tried to restrain me from behind. Luckily for me, I kept a taser on a shelf next to the door and managed to grab it during the struggle. I didn't get to hit him with it, but the sound it made was enough to scare him into leaving me the fuck alone. He might not have penetrated me, but had I not come to, I'm sure he would have. He left, I locked the door, called a friend and sobbed uncontrollably until they came. They actually ran into the guy as he was leaving the building and he told them "I didn't do anything to her". The following day, I got a text message from the guy telling me that if I talked about it, he'd tie me to a tree and beat me with a rubber hose. I told my co-workers about it, but I didn't dare report it. Again, I began to blame myself. "I shouldn't have drank so much", "I put myself into this situation", "Did I consent?", "This is my fault".
There it is. My stories of survival, my experiences with sexual assault. I'm hoping if you managed to get all the way through this, you'll see that it happens. One in five women have been or will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Imagine five of your female friends or relatives, one of those women have been or will be sexually assaulted. Only 63% of sexual assaults are reported. The Sexual Assault Call Center had an increase of 201% percent after Dr. Ford came forward with her story. Can you now understand why posts that support abusers and belittle the victims are so harmful?
So, yeah...you bet your ass I'm triggered.
What really fucking triggers me is seeing my friends and FAMILY posting things in support of her abuser, criticizing and questioning the credibility of her testimony, and quite possibly the thing that triggers me the most...the fucking "NOT ALL MEN" posts. Like, we get it, Linda...you've been fortunate enough to have decent men in your life, but don't please, for the love of fuck, DO NOT belittle women who weren't so lucky. I strongly believe that the people who are in support of garbage humans like Kavanaugh, Trump, Moore (this list could fill an entire page) only support them because they don't see the bigger picture. They don't realize that there are women in their life that have been sexually assaulted and/or a victim of domestic violence at some point in their life. So, here I am, hoping that maybe sharing my own experiences will help to open some eyes to why those posts are so hurtful, why most sexual assault and domestic violence go unreported, and most of all...why you should believe survivors of these atrocities.
The first time I was sexually assaulted, I was only 13 years old. I had been in a Jujitsu class for a few months and had finally started making some friends. Low and behold, the first friend I made would go on to rape me. He was a bit younger than me, but definitely had the upper hand due to size. I don't remember a lot of the details because it happened almost 18 years ago, but I know for a fact that it happened, it was violent, it hurt, and I was absolutely traumatized. I waited to tell my parents, I didn't understand what had happened, and I was scared that they wouldn't believe me. Sure enough, once I did finally tell them, they made me go over in detail what happened with the family therapist, and because I had already been identified as a "problem child" the therapist told them (with me in the room) that I was probably making up the story for attention. From that moment on, I believed that I'd never be able to talk to them about these kinds of things and buried that memory as far back in my mind as I could. That was one of the pivotal moments where I began to tell myself, "this was my fault"...thus beginning a long and terrifying road into womanhood.
The second time I was sexually assaulted, I was 21 years old. This is one that I vividly remember and it still haunts me to this day. I had finally been able to break free from the one and only domestic violence situation I had ever been in because the man I had been dating was behind bars. He was eventually released and ordered to go to an inpatient treatment facility in a different city. He had other plans. I had gotten off of work from my new job, when I came around the corner of the office building, I saw his car parked in the lot across the street. My heart instantly jumped into my throat. I tried to hustle my way across the street to make the walk home before he spotted me, but it was too late. He saw me, and he followed me home. I tried to get into my apartment as quickly as possible, I so desperately wanted to get the door shut and deadbolt locked, but he caught up with me and forced his way inside. He went on to hit me, pin me down, cover my mouth and ruthlessly rape me. Once it was over, he just left. I sat on the floor of the shower and cried. I finally mustered up the courage to call a friend to take me to the emergency room to report the assault and press charges. When I got to the ER, the questions that were asked made me feel like the bad guy..."have you had a prior sexual relationship with this person?" "did you shower after it happened, the rape kit might not work if so" "are you sure you want to press charges". In the end, I didn't even get the rape kit done, I went home and locked myself in my apartment for the next 3 days, broken, mortified, and blaming myself for what happened to me, "I should have went back into my office", "I should have called a friend to pick me up to drive me home", "I shouldn't have gone home", "This was my fault".
The last time I was sexually assaulted was almost exactly 3 years ago, I was 27 years old. Details are hazy because I had been drinking, but nonetheless, it still fucked me up. It was a man that I had previously worked with. We were work friends, hung out in group settings, everything was seemingly harmless. One night, after a particularly heavy drinking session, I ran into him while I was walking home. Since we were friends, I didn't think I had anything to be worried about so I invited him over to smoke a bowl and shoot the shit. One of the last things I remember before blacking out, was finishing the bowl and telling him I was going to go to bed soon so he needed to leave. I suspect he punched me because I had a gnarly bruise on my jaw (among other places) the next day. When I came to, I had my shirt and bra pulled up to my chin with him pinning me to the floor right in front of my front door. I kicked and struggled, and finally found my voice and started yelling at him. He stood up, pulled me up and tried to restrain me from behind. Luckily for me, I kept a taser on a shelf next to the door and managed to grab it during the struggle. I didn't get to hit him with it, but the sound it made was enough to scare him into leaving me the fuck alone. He might not have penetrated me, but had I not come to, I'm sure he would have. He left, I locked the door, called a friend and sobbed uncontrollably until they came. They actually ran into the guy as he was leaving the building and he told them "I didn't do anything to her". The following day, I got a text message from the guy telling me that if I talked about it, he'd tie me to a tree and beat me with a rubber hose. I told my co-workers about it, but I didn't dare report it. Again, I began to blame myself. "I shouldn't have drank so much", "I put myself into this situation", "Did I consent?", "This is my fault".
There it is. My stories of survival, my experiences with sexual assault. I'm hoping if you managed to get all the way through this, you'll see that it happens. One in five women have been or will be sexually assaulted in their lifetime. Imagine five of your female friends or relatives, one of those women have been or will be sexually assaulted. Only 63% of sexual assaults are reported. The Sexual Assault Call Center had an increase of 201% percent after Dr. Ford came forward with her story. Can you now understand why posts that support abusers and belittle the victims are so harmful?
So, yeah...you bet your ass I'm triggered.
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteYou're brave for speaking out. This event is definitely a way for people to stand up and show just how many have been affected in their lives without any of their friends or family knowing, and why.
ReplyDeleteStay strong and keep being you!!
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