It was my very first Florida State football game. At least, it almost was. I was excited, decked out in my garnet and gold. I was ready to fully embrace what it was like to be an FSU student. But, let’s be real, I was also ready to drink. So my friends and I headed to a frat party. I had just started college and had never been to a frat house before. It seemed so cool and so foreign. This is what college is all about, right? So let the fun begin, I thought. Bring on those ambiguous red kool-aid shots.
I was meeting new people, I was lively, I was fun—until I wasn’t. All of a sudden it hit me. I swear I hadn’t even had that much to drink, but before I knew it I was sitting on a couch, amidst all of the craziness, fighting unconsciousness. I don’t want to say that something was put in my drink because it’s possible that it wasn’t, but something wasn’t right. Maybe I drank more than I thought I had. Maybe not. I just know that in all of my life, I had never quite felt so out of it. It hit me so quickly and so unexpectedly.
I barely remember him sitting down next to me, but all of a sudden he was there. He wasn’t in the frat, he had just come with us to the tailgate. We had mutual friends and I had seen him around here and there. I knew him to be a very nice guy. Everyone really seemed to like him so that must have meant something. So when everyone insisted that I go home – they knew I wouldn’t make it to the game – I didn’t hesitate at all when this boy offered to help me.
I don’t remember the walk across campus back to the dorm. I don’t remember climbing the stairs to his room. I don’t remember where I was. But before I knew it, we were back to safety. So I thought.
I vaguely remember being in his bed kissing. I didn’t have a problem with it, though. I didn’t have the energy to say no and kissing was just kissing. But then, it wasn’t just kissing. Somehow my clothing started coming off without my permission and without me really realizing where it was going.
I don’t remember saying no, but I also know that I didn’t say yes. I was drunk, borderline unconscious, but I know that it wasn’t what I wanted. And I know that he knew that too. I simply didn’t have the energy to resist. I hate thinking that; I hate thinking that I was in this powerless state and I hate thinking that I gave in. But I did.
I managed to tell him to put a condom on. If he was going to do this to me, atleast put a condom on. I don’t know if he saw that as some sort of go signal, but he put it on and then it happened. It all happened so quickly. Within moments I was alone, half-naked, wasted, confused and in a foreign bed. I didn’t understand what happened. I didn’t know where I was or how I got there.
I told my close friends, some of which were also friends with this boy. I told them what I could remember and how I felt taken advantage of. They said that we were both drunk and that because of that it was no one’s fault. They said that he was a nice guy and he would never intentionally do something like that.
I felt so betrayed, so confused. Yes, we were both drunk. Yes, both of our judgments were impaired. But I was hardly functioning, hardly awake. I just laid there and let it happen. He, however, was able to take control. And then he was gone. He had enough sense, inebriated or not, to just get up and leave the scene of the crime.
Well, did you say no? they asked. I don’t remember. I truly don’t. But, I know I didn’t want it. Well, if you didn’t say anything, how was he supposed to know? I was hardly even awake! I had to be taken home because I couldn’t make it to the game! Does that sound like someone who is able to consent to sex?!
I had had sex before, drunken sex too. I am the first to admit that I was a little wild my freshman year and I did some things I wish I hadn’t. But this time was different. I came out of it feeling different. Unlike other times, I never made the conscious decision to engage in intercourse. I hadn’t given him permission to know me that way. He took it upon himself, in my state of vulnerability, and I was unable to fight it.
I was angry and upset and confused at first. But shortly after, I stopped thinking of it as a big deal. I thought that maybe my friends were right. Maybe my feeling like I was raped, like I was taken advantage of, wasn’t justified. He was a nice guy and maybe he didn’t mean it. I did ask him to put on a condom, does that make me accountable? None of my friends thought it was that big of a deal, so why did I? I didn’t think I was justified in worrying about it so I stopped. But then, every once in a while, I would see him, around campus and at parties, and it would all come rushing back. How could this person have done this to me? How did I let this happen?
Society tells me that because I didn’t fight, it wasn’t rape. Because we were both drunk, it wasn’t rape. But I say that I didn’t want it. I say that I was wasted and used and then left to lay alone in a foreign bed. I say that I was taken advantage of—I was raped.
Don’t get me wrong; I’m okay now. I’m great, actually. I hardly drink (you realize that it’s not that fun when you look back and struggle to remember an entire year of your life). I’m in an incredible, loving relationship with the man that I’m going to marry. I’m almost done with school and looking forward to the future. None of what happened set me back; it didn’t keep me from finding love and it didn’t keep me from succeeding. I am so happy.
But, I’d be lying if I said I don’t think about it sometimes.
I’m not sharing this story for pity, for closure or for revenge. I’m sharing it for young women like me. Unfortunately, rape is such a prevalent topic for us Collegiettes. I’m sure you’ve heard the numbers. One in four college women report surviving rape or attempted rape at some point in their lifetime.
So much of the media regarding rape implants in our minds a specific idea, a specific image of what rape is. The victim says no. Her assailant ignores her. There is a violent struggle. He wins. No means no, right? Well yes, of course no means no, but you don’t always have to say no to mean no. Not putting up a fight doesn’t mean you wanted it.
Rape is not black-and-white like we are often led to believe it is. If you are in any situation in which you feel you are being overcome (physically, emotionally, mentally) and taken advantage of, you have the right to believe that you were raped. You don’t have to call it that if it unsettles you, but it is unsettling. It is wrong, and you are allowed to express that. Do not ever let anyone tell you that these feelings are unjustified. A great wrong, maybe the greatest of them all, has been committed against you. You are allowed to feel that way and you are allowed to feel it for as long as it lasts.
But you are also allowed to bounce back from it. You are allowed to not let it hold you down or hold you back from real love and real success. It was awful and I know that. I know that you’ll never be able to forget it because I know that I haven’t. But you can overcome it. You can be the woman that you were destined to be before all of this happened. Maybe it will change the way that you look at life, but that doesn’t have to be a bad thing. You can grow from this. I know that I did.