1 in 5

*Trigger warning*- Sexual Assault

In America today, sexual assaults are still very much a taboo topic. Despite 1 in 5 women experiencing rape or attempted rape, and over 50% of women experiencing some form of sexual violence in their life [1], our society has groomed us to be silent victims. Men and many of the American people have cultivated a space that isn't safe to come forward. Whether it's because we were flirting, dressed "too provocatively", didn't say no "the right way", have a promiscuous sexual history, or knew the perpetrator, there are plenty of reasons women are given to not be believed. So... we don't come forward. Instead, we bear the weight of the assault and carry the pain quietly, hoping people can't see the scars it has left upon us.

These scars and pain that we've taken on aren't ours to carry, it's theirs. The shame and disgust we feel are not ours, they belong to those who violated us. As victims and survivors, we need to allow ourselves to release the idea that we owe silence and humility to anyone. When we are ready, our only job is to speak our truth and speak it loudly. We speak our truth for ourselves, but we also speak our truth for every other woman and person out there who is too afraid or unsafe to speak. Silence is a precursor for more sexual violence, so we must fight back.

So... here's my story

I was 17 when I was first sexually assaulted. While there have been occasions of sexual harassment and sexual discomfort (like most women experience on a daily basis), this is the only interaction I've had that I myself would classify as a sexual assault. But for a long time, I didn't feel this way.

I was a young 17-year-old girl who followed the rules and hardly let loose. I was an athlete striving for college athletics and was very disciplined when it came to partying and things of that nature. As my senior year rolled around and people were celebrating more and more, I decided on New Year's Eve that I had earned a little fun. Eventually, I decided to go to a party at a very good friend's house. Something low-key and familiar, and more importantly safe. The "party" was no more than 20-25 people. Everyone there I knew from school and no one there was a stranger, so I felt pretty comfortable. So comfortable in fact that I started drinking... fast. For someone who had hardly ever drank in her life and was ignorant of the ways of alcohol, I was chugging little margaritas left and right. It wasn't until the room started spinning and I couldn't hold up my head that I knew I had made a grave mistake. Needing some cool air and a change of scenery I made my way outside to sit and relax, but somewhere along the way, I ended up laying facedown in a flowerbed. From that point on I was in and out of consciousness. Randomly, I would come to when a friend would come by and check on me, but I would have very little recollection of what was going on or where I was. I was nothing more than a rag doll. In between these check-ins and the chaos of this get-together, I was throwing up in the yard. A lot of throw-up. It was obvious to me and everyone else I had overdone it. While a lot of the night was a blur to me, there are distinct moments I will never forget.

During my time laying on the ground, there was a moment when a friend of mine, a young guy (only 15 at the time), came to talk to me. I had known he had a crush on me, but he was always nice and respectful during school. When he sat down next to me on the ground, I felt relieved, but this relief didn't last. In between throwing up and trying to stay conscious, I remember him repeatedly grabbing my face and forcing me to make out. I had been throwing up, I couldn't talk, and I could hardly keep my eyes open, but that didn't stop him. I remember being so confused and scared, but at this point, I was nothing more than a puppet. Eventually, some other guys came out and he stopped long enough to talk to them. I now lay face down on the concrete, my limbs sprawled open like I was attempting to do a snow angel. I can remember his friends circling around me, staring, and laughing at my drunk body. Making comments about how hot I was and how'd they'd "hit that" if I let them. One of them even bent down to slap my ass. I remember feeling disgusted and stuck. Trapped to the ground as though I had been nailed down. Eventually, his friends dispersed, but he stayed. The silence was almost deafening, and before I knew what was happening I was being flipped over to my back. He continued laughing and kissing my lifeless body as he slid his fingers down my stomach and onto my belt buckle. He undid my buckle as I lay there motionless, began unbuttoning my pants, and slid his hand inside touching my underwear just before one of my friends came bolting out of the house yelling "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!?". The next moments are ones that are hard for me to recall. I remember sitting outside, being held by my friend, waiting for my mom to come and get me. I was so inebriated I was really unable to comprehend what even was transpiring, let alone that I had just been sexually assaulted.

When I got to school the following Monday, I saw the guys that had been at the party and they immediately began to joke me for "making out with a younging", and I laughed it off. I was still trying to recall a lot of the night, but most of my laughter stemmed from shame. Shame that I had gotten that intoxicated on what was essentially my one and only party night, shame that I was unable to control myself, shame that I was unable to protect myself, and even more shame that now it had become a joke to others. For a long time, I didn't talk about what happened. I tried to brush it under the rug. I mean nothing really happened, right? He had stopped before he had REALLY done anything, right? He was younger than me, can it even be sexual assault if you're older than them? I was filled with shame, disgust, guilt, and a lot of confusion.

It took me years to process that guilt and confusion. Mostly because I had felt so responsible for what had transpired that I almost felt like I deserved it. I wasn't careful like I usually was and this is what happens when you aren't careful, right?

What I wish I would have known then is that any unwanted sexual touching is sexual assault. It doesn't matter if you're intoxicated or sober, if you're silent or screaming, it's still sexual assault. I also wish I knew that it doesn't matter how old you are or how old they are, all people (even so-called friends), are capable of violating another person and no excuses should be made for the perpetrator. Lastly, I wish I knew that this shame isn't mine to bear, but his. I may be a victim, but I'm also a survivor. And every day I show up and speak out for myself, I enable other survivors to come towards the light and speak their own truths. In talking about my own assault and sharing it with other survivors, I have found some peace in knowing that I'm not alone.

1. Fast Facts: Preventing Sexual Violence |Violence Prevention|Injury Center|CDC. (2023, May 22). https://www.cdc.gov/violenceprevention/sexualviolence/fastfact.html