Trigger Warning: Domestic violence and sexual assault
One out of every three women (and one out of every four men) will be abused by an intimate partner at some point in her life. Domestic violence can be physical or emotional––or both; it can be with someone who you’re in a relationship with; it can be with someone who you barely know.
For anyone who has experienced domestic abuse, I understand what it feels like––what you feel like. It’s terrifying and scary to say the least, and it’s a huge issue on college campuses. I’ve never come out and shared any of this before, but I want to let those of you out there that have experienced some form of domestic violence, abuse or rape know that you are not alone. We can stand up to domestic violence. We can work to empower men and women. We can stop being silent.
Here’s my story:
When I was 17, I met an older man. He graduated from my high school and was 21, almost 22. He was cute, and seemed nice at first. That is, until we were completely alone.
He wanted to “do things” that I was completely uncomfortable with and when I said no, he kept trying. He was aggressive too––he thought it was sexy, me saying “no.” What he didn’t know was that I really meant it. I wasn’t trying to be a tease.
Eventually, I did something I didn’t want to do. The saddest part is I only did it to make him stop, to make him leave me alone, to make him stop trying. I remember sitting in the bathroom in shock, crying about what I had done. I wasn’t “that kind of girl,” but at that moment, I didn’t feel like a victim––I felt like a slut.
I was a senior in high school at the time. That very same year, I started dating someone who was just a year older than I was. He was never aggressive. He never pressured me to do anything, and he wasn’t a bad guy. He made me laugh and smile, and it was the first time I ever thought I was falling in love.
But then, the drug use started and he wasn’t so nice anymore. He verbally abused me all the time. He would accuse me of cheating, and tell me that if I was, he could do so much better. The things he said to me made me feel worthless––I felt I had no value. I was constantly trying to prove myself to him, to always make him happy. In my mind, because I was “in love,” it didn’t matter that the things he said were completely verbally abusive.
Eventually, we broke up and he went to treatment. Things got better for him as time progressed.
My freshman year of college rolled around and I spent my free time trying to get to know a lot of new people. Many people in my freshmen class, myself included, had added each other on social media, even though we didn’t necessarily know each other personally.
One night, this cute guy messaged me. We talked for a bit and I found out he lived in the dorm only a short distance from mine. He had been drinking and invited me over. It was late and I had just come home from a night out myself, but I decided to go.
I went over and he immediately offered me alcohol. He told me I should just “take a shot or two with him.” I hesitated at first, but eventually figured, why not?
He started to get flirty, and we ended up kissing. He kept asking if I would spend the night and I kept saying, “You know, I’m really not that type of girl.” He started mocking me, saying things like, “Oh come on! You’re in college. It’s really not a big deal at all, there’s no reason to be a prude.” But I was persistent with telling him no.
Then it happened again, for the second time in my life. I finally just shut up and laid there because I got sick of saying no and his refusal to take my answer as final. I was also starting to feel the alcohol––I didn’t think I could even move.
As soon as it was over, he told me I needed to leave. I was in disbelief and shock. I left and immediately started crying. I came back to my room and cried some more.
The next day, I confided in a single friend about what had occured (I still remember it like it was yesterday). She told me I needed to go to a doctor, but I was scared and ashamed. I felt like it was my fault. Even though I didn’t want to do anything and it wasn’t fun for me, I still let it happen. I gave up and he forced himself on me. I never saw myself as a victim, but more an idiot. I thought I was the problem.
The last incident I experienced occured at a fraternity house. I never really felt popular, so the first time a frat guy reached out to me and invited me over, I eagerly accepted the invitation. I was actually super excited. When I got there, not many people were there other than a few sorority girls. I tried to fit in and drink––I wanted nothing more than to be liked. I wanted to have fun with everyone! It didn’t hurt that the guy who invited me kept giving me alcohol, too.
At the end of the night, all of the girls that I was with had left. I remember the guy who invited me over coming up to me and asking if I wanted to watch a movie. I knew––and still know––that he was not that drunk, but I agreed. The next thing I knew, I found myself waking up half-naked the next morning. All I remember is him asking me about a movie.
What’s worse is that I didn’t even know what had happened to me, but he sure did.
This is the first time in my life that I’ve come out and spoken up about my stories. It’s terrifying, but I want girls and guys out there to know that it is not your fault. It took me a long time to realize this. We’re not the problem––the terrible abusers are the problem.
We can stand up. We can say that domestic violence is not okay. Physical and emotional abuse are not okay. Rape is not okay. Together, we can join forces and be a voice for the voiceless.
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