Archive for the ‘rape’ category
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Anonymous
I was raped when I was 22. It was fast and stunning. I knew the guy, a friend of a friend of a friend, and it happened in a car after a concert. He just kept repeating the same thing "you know you want this." I did not. I did not. I fought and pulled away, but then something sort of broke inside of me and I froze. I think I froze. I still can't explain to myself why I didn't get out of that car. I used to say if it happened again I would kill him in order to get away. I would do it all differently. No hospital, no police, no counseling. I mostly tried to pretend it didn't happen. It felt like it happened in a movie to someone else, or I told myself to think that way. It's just this horrid thing in the back of my mind, this place where I don't understand the world, men, myself. Over 15 years later, it's still there. You would think it wouldn't be. For all those years this thing haunts me but not in a big way. I used to tried to tell boyfriends about it. When that question "who have you been with comes up." Or when I'd be not in the mood for sex. (I can get overwhelmed when faces are too close to mine.) But I always regretted telling them. It made it present in our lives too much. In our faces. They always said "why didn't you just run?" And then they saw me differently. So I stopped telling people. I've since had friends tell me stories of rape or talk about it in general and I give them sympathy or say I can't imagine. I didn't tell my boyfriend, the one, the one who is now my husband of almost 8 years. He doesn't know and never will. I almost told him when I was pregnant, because childbirth and breastfeeding put me in this weird space about it all again. That overwhelming feeling from breath in my face was there and I hated it. I feel horrible that I hated it, but I did. It was a depressing time, I feel like it was a lost time and I was not at my best. I can't even imagine having another baby, and I think this is the reason. I wish I didn't have so many regrets but I don't regret keeping my secret. It feels good to say these things, but I don't like being defined by them. My only question is whether some day I will tell my daughter. The thought of her not being safe makes me sick. I want her to know how to fight back. I want her to never have to worry about any of this.
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Tarah
This piece. It may not seem original But Do not ascribe that to my lack of creativity Or free thought It is attributable only to the fact That I am not the only woman to live through this Far from it Blame this lack of originality On our society And its teachings And its lack of unlearning The need for control I am merely one in four On college campuses That has been raped Can that even be considered A minority group In our society anymore Can that even be Ignored? Pause. Fixate. Like I did. I had no choice but to. I had no choice in any of this. On that word. rape. A defining factor of yourself overpowering Shoved onto you Penetrating your self-perception Lowering it A black mark Stigmatizing. Unwanted and unasked for Forced onto you by another And their selfish desires or lack of self control Somehow it now defines you Ask yourself.. How fair. where is our justice. Being burdened with this word Let alone the memory. Rape. Breathe it in Exhale deeply through it. Center it within your body and feel it’s presence Weight on mind Heavy on heart. Feel the disgust spreading through your extremities This word is somehow an ugly composition of lines Or is it tainted with the meaning. Focus it until you corse with the colors that I did Mainly the darkness of self-loathing I want you to feel what that word is To one in four women on college campuses RAPE. Do not look away. stare at it It is an ugly word Only because it is the one of the most despicable acts One human being can use to inflict on another While most can barely read the word Without shuddering Keep reading Keep looking back at it Just to make sure its real It is. I wrote it there So you couldn't ignore it. Deal with it for the 3 moments it takes to read this. As I live with the memory of it For my entire life. Do not shy from the connotation that bites painfully into you You want to don’t you? To shelter yourself To pretend it does not exist It doesn’t happen Not to me Not to my girl friends No man I surround myself would do that to ME. My body- that I respect and honor My soul’s sacred temple Whose walls could never be graffitied Defiled by such a perverse act. It just doesn’t happen to me It doesn’t happen to anyone Now repeat that A million times to yourself And your friends And your colleagues Then look up the statistics Then please contact me Write to me Talk to me hell Yell at me Did ignorance change the prevalence of it? Did ignoring the vile truth stop it from happening To another woman Like me. Sexual assault. Unwanted physical contact. Overpowering Control over another’s body. Being the one out of control... Powerless is not a word descriptive enough to tell you What I felt that morning It was the first day of a new year. that was the first thought I had upon waking. The first day of a year of days yet to be filled. hopeful and fresh. Still innocent Still naive to the retrospective happenings That happened right where I was laying as these thoughts came to me. I woke up in your bed. Headache. Thirsty Im hungover. Remarkably so. Tired after a full night's sleep? I had thought I had slept in your bed alone. Somewhat restfully Residual drag could be blamed on my drunken stupor the night before. Confused. How did I get here? Last thing I remember was.. Shit. Whats the last thing I can remember? Ball dropping in times square Countdown… palpable pulsing excitement Screaming 3.. 2..1.. Happy new year! Blackout that following time period is a sensory deprivation chamber One I have been in before One I have come safely out of In the morning After empty sleep Later laughing with friends Over silly things that I did Apparently I could not remember But thats what friends are for. To keep you safe To remind you of your late night Shenanigans Innocent in their nature Not remembering. I went down creaky stairs to find you. To find out what laughable things I had done. Still thinking I had spent new years eve Out. enjoying time with my friends. Friend. I was still blind. So you were still this to me. I find you. I sense…… Nothing wrong I return to your room. To clothe my body. In something of mine thats appropriate. For the first day of the new year. And then. I see it. All too suddenly it is laid before me. Shoved into my view. It has been called the glass slipper of our generation And it is all the evidence I need. Repulsive. Mind suddenly racing. Thoughts slurred together, as if the alcohol I’d ingested the night before had suddenly come back. And ruined my ability to think clearly. Any contents it held had long ago leaked onto the wood of your bedroom like a Flood. It drowns me Realization But no memory Of the previous nights happenings Your transgressions See I thought we had an understanding Maybe you were hopeful, we had made out a few times but 2 weeks prior I explicitly stated We are just friends Sorry if this disappoints you I just don’t feel that way for You. Nothing personal. Is that not my right? To refuse I have to know Because it couldn't have happened There is no way in hell. This really does not happen to people At least it doesn’t happen to me.. But in a few questions you confirm my worst fear And I resist throwing up on your bedroom floor. Blame Has to be given to someone What other target But Myself. I was the one who got me drunk So drunk I fell down at the party So drunk you had to carry me home Like the good friend I thought you were You laid me in your bed. And then apparently laid down beside me And proceeded to have sex with me. You Decided To then believe my drunken agreement that Yes I want it Give it to me. But legally My drunken consent Its no consent at all How can you justify that it was agreed upon by us both When you remember ever ongoing And I was told of it by the used condom still laying on you floor Would you even had told me if I hand’t asked? What gave you the idea That you could get away with this it was okay I was clear thinking enough to give you permission Even tho you carried me home my drunken state had no effect on my ability to consent Even though I couldn't even stand at the party That I wanted it even though I had told you I had no interest When I was sober Well tell me Which bullshit excuse to validate your actions was it? At least You gave me $40 To pay for a pill Composed of chemicals Which I do not agree with putting into my body Under normal circumstances But had to Because I cannot have a child now So you paid me off I felt used Cheap Even more worthless, as if this money was to be a compensation, a fix-it, an eraser of what happened, of what you’ve burdened me with. As if a fertilized egg was the only burden. I was not, in that moment Even worth that $40. But it was my fault right Because I got drunk right And trusted him Right Sitting in my car, Repulsed to still be next to you But hiding it , Because I would not be unkind to you When this was my fault. One in four women May have believed At some point afterwards That they asked for it In the way they dressed, in the way they acted, in the way they flirted Because thats what you are taught. I want you to scream NO. Whisper it at first. Then louder. Then scream it at the top of your fucking lungs And put some heart into it. Because it is time that every single person Not just one in four women Not just women unlearn this You did not ask to be raped The only blame to attribute is to whomever defiled your sacred temple Without your permission. One in four is no longer a minority. One hundred percent of this Can no longer be ignored. And do not let that word distract you. Minority It is not how I perceive this It is no minor event No part of this is minor One in four is too many One is too many So read it again RAPE As many times as necessary To see how ugly it is And please I pray that you You won’t do it Because every woman Deserves to wake up To a fresh day Or a new year’s first morning Without having to live every day on With the memory that she has been raped.
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