Months after I was raped at 14 years old, I finally got the courage — after a suicide attempt — to tell an adult relative. Highlights from the response:
“What did you expect, hanging out with older boys, and dressing the way you do?
WHATEVER you do, don’t tell your dad… He’ll want to kill the guy, and you don’t want your dad to go to prison, right?”
So… at 14 years of age, I learned that I wasn’t capable of making rational decisions (like who I spent time with) — never mind that I had very little adult oversight to start with.
I learned that visually, I was a slut, because I didn’t have the modesty and self-respect to cover up, so I was — naturally — going to be treated like a slut.
I learned that it was my responsibility to maintain my silence, to protect adults from their own choices.
LET ME BE CLEAR: I couldn’t be trusted to make “wise” choices about my own safety, but I was solely responsible for keeping my dad safe from imprisonment.
But before I learned all that…
I learned, when I was 10, not to wear skirts to school, because when I did, I’d get called up to my teacher’s big desk so he could stroke my legs and thighs.
I learned to wear padded bras, because they acted like armor between my breasts and his fingers.
I learned that telling a grownup you’re being molested by your teacher gets you labeled a “troublemaker” who can’t be believed.
I learned that telling your mom doesn’t mean she’ll go to the police (because she may not know she can). It might mean she goes and has a stern talk with him, and he keeps doing it, after gaslighting you (“I never meant to make you feel uncomfortable. I only want you to know how much I appreciate you…”).
I learned that — of all the things best friends can share — sharing abuse is just about the saddest fucking thing in the world.
And today…
Today I learned that sexual abuse makes people so uncomfortable, some of them would prefer not to associate with its victims. Some of them are happier pretending they can’t see it.
Today I also learned that my childhood abuse made one of my female classmates feel like an outsider to my social group, because she didn’t get “special” attention from our teacher. She didn’t know that attention was abuse, but it made her feel excluded and unworthy, and fuck him for creating an environment in which kids thought they weren’t worthy, and we were the “lucky” ones.
But… I also learned today that my circle is wide. I learned I have some pretty amazing folks around me.
I learned it’s perfectly okay and normal to celebrate literally surviving one more day.
I learned I’m considered a role model, no matter how much I reject that idealization.
I learned to make peace with that “role model” thing. Sort of. I’ll work on it.
I learned how to stop worrying about hurting the feelings of the people who continue to protect my abuser.
I decided I’m going to learn how to stop worrying about hurting the feelings of the people who furthered my abuse or trauma by enabling, gaslighting, and victim-blaming. (That’s going to take some time, but I start work today.)
I learned how to use the “unfriend” button.
I learned how to ask for help.
I learned how to stop apologizing for my truth… even when it makes people uncomfortable.
What did YOU learn, back then?
What have you learned, TODAY?
Back then I learned to never speak about the abuse. You put yourself at risk of being told that you brought it upon yourself. Your peers make judgement on you. You don’t “fit in” anymore.
Back then I learned to feel guilty, like I did something to deserve what happened to me. I never could figure out what that was, by the way. So, I had to “misbehave” in order to justify the injustice being leveraged on my body. Then I had some kind of weird justification for the abuse.
This decision led to many years of “self-medication”, also known as alcoholism and drug abuse.
Flash forward to today: I learned that these deep-seeded issues run rampant in my “self” consciousness ~ I never fully understood how much those instances from 45+ years ago affected my daily life! I feel betrayed by my own self! I feel that even though I am a compassionate, giving human being, I have never even come close to helping a fellow victim with this experience. It is not sufficient to commiserate with someone about these things. We have to take action: call out the perpetrators! Even though they may have been equally abused, or neglected.
In these modern times of social media on the Internet, how many, many people are my “Friend”, even though one night, a long, long time ago, they took advantage of me against my will … I am hard pressed to point my finger at them now. I have to live my life as though I have forgotten those things happened. As if those things didn’t affect my life. As if though those things don’t plague my memories.
I truly appreciate the ability to express my thoughts on this matter, even if there is no simple solution. I choose to live a compassionate life.
It’s absolutely okay to go to those people and tell them that what they did affected you, and that it had long-lasting consequences for you. Many, many people are still believing that if it wasn’t “violent,” it wasn’t violence.
Anything outside enthusiastic consent is a crime against our bodies.
I, too, try to live compassionately, and that compassion is prioritized first to my fellow survivors. No longer will I protect perpetrators.
It takes so much courage to speak out, and I am honored to have you as an ally.
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