By Adwoa Ampofo
In honor of Sexual Assault Awareness Month, I want to share what life looks like now nine months after everything.
TW: sexual assault, coercion, suicidal ideation
Nine months ago, I was coerced into having sex with someone I knew.
Two months later, around Halloween, I was coerced again this time by my ex-boyfriend.
It has been months. And for most of that time, I didn’t truly process either experience.
At first, in the days after it happened, I moved into what I once described as a “protect our community” mindset. I tried to make sense of things through the lens I had been taught especially as a woman of color in religious spaces.
For many of us, that phrase doesn’t feel like guidance. It feels like a command.
The Weight of Silence and Expectation
After the assault, people from my church back home, Bible study groups, and even campus spaces tried to guide me. But instead of helping me heal, I was told:
- “Forgive him.”
- “Don’t harbor hatred.”
- “Pray for him.”
There was an urgency to my forgiveness. A timeline for my healing.
I was encouraged to cover up more, limit interactions with men, and follow expectations rooted in what’s often called purity culture a belief system that places a woman’s value on sexual “purity,” often ignoring consent, autonomy, and harm.
In that moment, I wasn’t seen as someone who had been violated.
I was treated like someone who needed to correct herself.
What Happened
What happened broke more than my body.
It fractured my sense of self.
I felt like a shell of a person. Less human. Disposable.
I had told him I didn’t want to have sex. I had told him I was focusing on my relationship with
God. I sat away from him. I was in pajamas, expecting a simple conversation.None of that mattered.
That night, I wandered campus from 1 a.m. to 3 a.m., crying. I stared at empty streets and dark woods, trying to understand what had just happened to me.
I texted people. I hesitated to even say the words out loud.
When I finally told someone, I was told it was “a test from God” and that it wasn’t assault because I wasn’t physically forced down.
That moment stayed with me.
Because according to the RAINN, sexual coercion is a form of sexual assault, and lack of physical force does not equal consent.
In fact:
- 1 in 5 women in the U.S. experience completed or attempted rape in their lifetime (CDC).
- Nearly 80% of sexual assaults are committed by someone known to the victim (RAINN).
- Only about 25–30% of survivors report their assault to authorities.
What happened to me is not rare.
But that doesn’t make it any less devastating.
Trying to Cope
I didn’t know how to sit with what happened.
So I tried to escape it.
I went back to someone familiar my ex-boyfriend not because it was safe, but because it was known. I thought maybe I could overwrite the memory. Maybe I wouldn’t have to face what had just happened.
But that didn’t bring comfort.
It brought more harm.
On Halloween, in my dorm, he assaulted me too.
The next day, I went to a homecoming event like nothing had happened.
I told no one.
I was afraid afraid of how it would look, afraid of being misunderstood, afraid that people would
distance themselves from me because of the circumstances.
So I suppressed it.
For months my plan was:
- Staying busy so I wouldn’t think
- Holding back tears until only 10% surfaced
- Avoiding vulnerability
- Disconnecting from my body
I didn’t hug people.
I didn’t trust easily.
I didn’t feel safe in closeness.
I even lost my sense of faith as I once knew it.
Who I Am Now
But healing real healing started when I stopped shrinking my pain.
I began to:
- Speak more than 10%
- Go to therapy
- Reach out instead of isolating
- Sit with the truth of what happened
I cut my hair. I started going to the gym. I created distance between who I was then and who I am becoming.
My hair grew back. I dyed it red.
I got a campus job and then another offer.
I’ve even allowed myself to feel interest in someone again.
And slowly, I started hugging my friends again.
Not out of obligation but without fear.
Healing is Not Linear
The pain isn’t completely gone.
But I am not the same person who wandered campus at 2 a.m. feeling invisible.
I’m not afraid in the same way anymore.
People’s faces aren’t blurred by fear when I look at them.
I call people when I’m scared instead of staying silent.I am learning that healing is not:
- Linear
- Immediate
- Or something that can be rushed by anyone else’s expectations It is messy. It is layered. It is mine.