This article may contain triggering content regarding sexual assault. In addition, Her Campus Davidson would like to reinforce that sexual assault is never the fault of the survivor.
I was raped a few months ago now. The bulk of this article was written in the weeks after, as I came to terms with the fact that it was rape, and became comfortable centering myself in my own life, and calling it what it was. What it is.
My body was there. I made decisions leading into that night that did not protect me from predatory boys or my own self-destructive behavior. I don’t operate in a vacuum. I won’t pretend to. He also doesn’t operate in a vacuum. He has been taught what it means to be a “man.” More specifically what it means to be a man in a fraternity with expectations about how an evening should unfold.
And yet.
No one should black in with someone’s dick inside them. No one should black in without any idea what’s going on and how they got there. If you barely know what’s going on in your immediate surroundings, there’s no way in hell you can really extract yourself from the situation.
I blame this 100% on this boy who decided that as drunk as I was, I was a good candidate for sex. I 100% blame his inability to see me as scared, hurt, vulnerable, blackout, reckless… I 100% blame him for placing his desire to get laid over pretty much anything else.
But.
There’s a nagging voice in my head that struggles to give up my agency in this night (although another voice reminds me that no matter how drunk I was, I still shouldn’t have been raped.)
Sometimes I struggle with my own responsibility. I know the parties I’m walking into. I know the social scene I’m a part of. I know the culture in which I grew up. I know that none of these things justify being raped but, I still struggle.
Moments it could have gone differently:
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The moment I chose to drink to drunkenness.
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The moment society decided that a drunk woman means a woman no longer in control which means available to sex.
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The moment he learned it’s okay to just go for it.
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The moment we all learned a couple going to a room isn’t ever cause for concern.
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The moment we as a campus decided hosts have a responsibility to supply alcohol and music but not keep their guests safe.
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The moment society decided it’s more important to get laid then to check and see if your partner is sober enough to consent.
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Every time he saw a movie where the entire plot or subplot revolves around a man not taking a woman’s no for an answer.
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Every time I had seen a woman exist in sexual encounters only the man’s pleasure and completion.
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Every time he watched porn where the woman was there only or primarily for the man’s desires.
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The moment each of us learned sex is only over when the man comes.
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The moment we decided drunk hooking up was normal enough to do all the damn time.
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The moment one of my friends saw me going into his room.
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The moment one one his friends saw me going into his room.
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The moment I blacked in with him inside of me. The moment I didn’t immediately say stop. The moment I didn’t immediately get up to leave.
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The moment my drunk brain couldn’t fight that idea that it was my job to finish him.
Two or three weeks later, I found out I wasn’t the only girl. I heard one of the other girl’s stories. I realized our nights were so intimately related. I realized when I heard her talk, that because I didn’t say something, didn’t make it entirely clear that it was rape and not just a mistake, because I didn’t do anything about it, I left open the possibility that it would happen again. I trusted the people around me who were also close with him to step in and address his actions and they didn’t. They didn’t think him repeatedly going home with drunk girls was worth a casual mention.
I’m exhausted from having the same conversations about how to prevent sexual assault. I hate listening to someone I know raped my friend question policy proposals. I’m done listening to people who promise to do something about the problem and then drop the ball.
I am tired. I am tired of trying to convince men on campus that I am a person before I am a vessel to cum in. I am tired of watching them face no consequences.
I am tired. But there’s too much on the line to stop. We’ve lost too much and it becomes more and more clear that few others are willing to do much of anything.
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