Dear you, Every day I wake up to a new podcast, news article, talk show, etc. where men all over the world are being outed for sexual harassment and sexual violence against women. Every day I read, listen to the podcasts, and watch the stories. I take pause and silently thank every woman who speaks up and who speaks out. I also quietly hold a place in my heart for the women who do not or who cannot speak out. Many big names are coming forward feeling that their notoriety might be able to give strength. With notoriety I do believe there does come a responsibility to give voice where none existed, or where other women were shining the light and were told to shut it off and shut up. So Who am I? Who will listen to me? Who will care? I am the anonymous female. I am nobody and I am somebody depending on how you look. If you have the courage to read, you just may care.... My Me Too moment came many years ago and I had worked very hard at keeping it locked away. We as women are taught that there is a time and place for certain discussions, and ones that include the word ārapeā or āassaultā are usually ones that make people avert their eyes and squirm in their skin. There is SO much shame and judgement that many of us who have experienced a rape or assault or harassment shrink away. We make excuses for what happened. We protect the perpetrator. We try to make sense out of nonsense. Some of us yell out or quietly ask for support, and many times nobody has heard or bothered to listen. Even though I had my āexperienceā as I had learned to call it, on lock down, it suddenly bubbled back up to my surface and I was compelled to write it down and finally stare at it black and white. In 1998 at University in my freshman year I was āThe social butterflyā. I was active in clubs and I was always up for trying new things. I had a boyfriend, a new apartment for the next year, and a fantastic group of quirky friends. I was the life of the party, and I would rarely pass up an opportunity to socialize. This night started no different than countless others I had experienced. I was living in residence and final exams has almost finished. We played loud music, drank vodka coolers, and got ready for a night out. My boyfriend was working at the bar and we headed there to say hi and meet some other friends. We were all friends so there were no worries of some creepy guy sneaking out of the bushes to grab one of us. Dancing, drinking, storytelling, and fun were had until midnight. I was tired, so one of my guy friends offered to walk me back to my boyfriendās house. Thinking nothing of it I said sure. I kissed my boyfriend goodbye as he was still bar tending. I told him I would wait for him at his house. As walked I began to ask why we were going down the wrong street. āItās a shortcutā I was told. Then we were in front of his house. āI just need to grab something. Just come inside while I get it.ā Then began that little voice in the very back of my mindā¦ something didnāt feel right. I told myself I was being overly silly. āI know him! He knows my boyfriend- come on Sarah get a grip.ā I told him I really had to get going. He handed me a drink and said that there was no rush. He would get me home soon. Then he kissed me. It wasnāt a slow or questioning kind of thing it was sudden and jarring. I was startled and tried to laugh it off. āI have a boyfriend and you know that. You didnāt just mean to do that.ā That quiet voice in the back of my head became a ringing alarm. This is not okay you have to go now! Instead of turning to run I froze. I froze, I froze, I fucking froze! Now I am being undressed and I manage to choke out: āplease I have to go home. Please I really want to go.ā I remember starting to cry and I remember him saying something like āShhhh itās okay, you have to be quiet. You donāt want to wake up my roommatesā. I picked a spot on the wall and I not so silently sobbed through the next minutes. Every so often I heard my voice say āplease, I really donāt want to, I have to go homeā. I didnāt recognize the sound. She sounded so far away and so little. He put his hand over my mouth and kept saying āshhhā. Suddenly it was over and he was getting dressed. He said he hoped I understood what happened and that it would be best for me not to tell anyone. He also hoped we could still hang out from time to time. My body was concrete, and my tongue was mute. Suddenly I was back outside, and I was walking. I turned around and he was back inside his house. I turned back to the street and walked into the oncoming crowd of drunk students coming back from the bar. There was so much noise! I silently slipped between people and suddenly I fell. There was nothing but a sea of strangers and I was nothing. I donāt remember getting to my boyfriends. It was a haze in my brain. I came in shut the door and lay on the floor sobbing. A roommate came home and saw me lying in blood and tears. He called for help and soon my boyfriend was there with the police. I will not go into the detail of what happened next as some of it is simply too painful to talk about. The shame that I still feel around the word rape. The next few days and months became unbearable as I tried to explain to myself and to others what happened. People said things like I was easy or drunk, or I somehow had asked for it. I remember being told that it wasnāt rape because I didnāt say/yell NO. Somehow I let it happen so it wasnāt really rape. Others said I knew him so it wasnāt rape. I lost friends, eventually dropped out of school, and moved back home. When the police detective called to tell me I could go to trial but it would be an uphill battle and dropping the case seemed more likely I agreed. I was tired of trying to put a voice or a name to what had happened. Maybe I was wrong, maybe what I felt had happened was just an exaggeration. Maybe, maybe, maybeā¦ a year passed, and then another, and as long as I did not speak the words I felt like maybe it didnāt really happen. It would come up from time to time and I would cry silently. It would take many years to trust again and even to this day I have a very hard time. I strongly dislike displays of emotion, and often I can get claustrophobic being hugged. Many years ago I was taught by society that I had to be ashamed. It was my fault- keep your silence because speaking out makes us uncomfortable. So here we are. It is today and I can stand in my story and share it with whoever wants to stop and listen. Today I can say the word rape. I was raped. I didnāt deserve it, I didnāt ask for it, and I HAVE NOTHING TO BE ASHAMED OF. The words of my story stare back at me and there will be days where I go back into doubt. These words also compel me to walk my talk, and shine the light into lifeās dark corners. I ask myself daily what I can do to help others. My me too moment has been there with me whispering in my ear. I will forever believe in the day where all women will not only stand up for each other but protect each other too. We will raise our voices, unite, and educate our children and those around us to have respect. When we see another woman down we will give her a hand. We will no longer be silent when we see a victim of violence. I tell my story because my story is your story. With this collection of voices we can make change happen.
theartofmadeline
gamechangershow
ellievsbear
vaporwave