I appreciate all the organizations and individuals wanting to help “victims” of sexual assault and domestic violence, I do. But I don’t consider myself, or anyone who has ever experienced either of those traumatic events “victims.”
We are survivors.
When raped, I was still within a single-digit age group. So before you ask, no I was not drinking, no I did not lead him on and I did not wear anything that would even remotely hint that I would wish for him to engage in any kind of sexual activity with me. You see, I would go in-depth and tell you the gory details about my attack; however, I simply can’t. Even if I wanted to. You see, I cannot remember the event happening because it was so traumatic for me; I had to repress the memory of it. This means I know the event happened, but I have no memory of any details that come with it. I’m not sure if its better this way or not, but it’s how my mind and body has learned to cope.
I remember being told what had happened and exactly how severe it was, but I never fully understood–not even when doctors told me I had depression and was going to develop a multitude of mental disorders further on in life. The truth is, I never felt the effects of my rape until college.
Last year, I suffered my first “episode.” This is when my brain gets triggered and experiences flashbacks to those dark times. My body becomes extremely numb, I over-heat myself and my thoughts are nothing but negative. It’s a period of time where I feel extreme and utter helplessness.
The first episode happened after reading about the Brock Turner case. I remember sitting in my room crying for days upon days. I told my friends I had a lot of homework and was too stressed to function but in reality, I was being bombarded by my anxieties. These anxieties were present all my life, just sitting in the back of my head waiting for the ideal trigger to be pulled. Finally, after countless years, they got what they desired. This was reflected not only in my social life, but in my school work as well.
After word of the Brock Turner case had circulated around the country, students began to speak out against sexual assault and started campaigns. While thinking I found a safety that no one knew I was admiring so dearly, I had been sadly mistaken. Watching individuals like myself, be labeled “victims” set off so many alarms in my head that I wanted to stop.
You see, when someone calls me a victim, I think of myself as a meek being who’s surprisingly still alive and smiling; however, I don’t believe this should be the way it works. I’m still alive and smiling because I survived an event I never knew I could. I survived an event a lot of people never developed the strength to.
Every day I wake up proud of the person I am. I look at myself in the mirror and admire the reflection looking back at me.
Please, please stop calling us victims because we are so much stronger than what that word makes us seem.