Content warning: sexual assault, sexual harassment, mentions of suicide
The Massachusetts State Law defines rape as: (1) Penetration of any bodily orifice by any body part or object (2) against a person’s will or without consent and (3) with threat of or actual use of force.
This may be the first time you’re reading this definition, or maybe you’re too familiar with it. I questioned every story, case, and disclosure until it happened to me. The most common question I receive as someone who speaks publicly about my trauma in order to spread awareness is: “What happened to the perpetrator?” In recent events, such as the case of the Stanford Rapist, it seems that our society’s focus leans toward the outcome of the perpetrator instead of the victim. Cultural trends like these are what compel me to share my story, in the hopes of enlightening others and encouraging survivors to speak out.
I never thought it would happen to me. I had always imagined that if I protected myself enough, acted conservatively, or avoided trouble then somehow I would be exempt from this kind of suffering. This is, of course, never the case. The fact is that sexual assault can happen to anyone. The nation’s largest anti-sexual violence organization, RAINN (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network), cites that every 98 seconds another person is a victim of sexual violence. It’s easy to feel discouraged by statistics like these, but understanding the frequency and severity of this violence can help end it.
When I first experienced this violence, I was too young to understand what had happened to me. I was ashamed of myself and my body and hid my trauma in secret. I was terrified to open up about it to significant others due to the fear that I would seem “used,” “damaged” or “disgusting” because of the destructive messages I internalized from my perpetrator. It wasn’t until my trauma, harassment, and self-blame reached the breaking point of attempting to take my own life that people started finding out what had happened to me. Like 94 percent of women who experience this trauma, I was diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD).
It plagued my entire life as it slowly ripped apart my peace of mind, sleep, health, and relationships. I spent months without sleeping more than three hours each night. I was harassed by nightmares that violently awoke me, shaking and unable to breathe in fear. I found myself in classes slipping into terrifying flashbacks of my trauma without warning: it felt inescapable. This type of PTSD is often considered less severe compared to those who have experienced trauma in combat. However, it’s still painfully real and damaging.
I lived — and often still do live — in fear. I wasn’t only afraid of the potential that it would happen again, but I was convinced that I wasn’t safe with anyone. In friendships, I was too afraid of judgment to disclose and lost trust since I avoided detailed explanations due to retraumatization. I spent every day concentrating tirelessly, fighting my illness and facing my trauma. In relationships, I was scared and uncomfortable — especially in intimate settings. Many survivors experience vaginismus, a disorder that commonly occurs after trauma that disables vaginal contraction, leaving sex to be a painful nightmare. I was constantly questioned by others and challenged by a society that resisted trusting victims. I was forced to be an advocate for myself. I wouldn’t wish a single second of this horror on anyone. It was like I was drowning and screaming for help, with no answer but “how did you let this happen?”
With guidance from professionals, support from my family, and a healthy recovery, I have been incredibly lucky in my progress. If you or anyone you know has experienced anything similar to this, I beg you to reach out to a crisis hotline, a good friend, a parent, a significant other or anyone you trust in order to begin your well-deserved healing. The silence encouraged by society about this violence is sometimes more harmful than the experience itself. No one should ever have to feel that their suffering is invalid.
For a local rape crisis hotline: The Center for Women and Community (at UMass Amherst) (413) 545-0800
For a national hotline: The Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (800) 656-HOPE (4673)
For facts, information and guidance: RAINN.org