Silence Is Not Consent

Actually, all that shit happened when my geology teacher got sick and we got a new teacher. The girls were crazy about him. He was nice, perfect, gentle to everyone, funny and really friendly. But, I noticed he is always looking at me strange. I started to think he hates me or something but he always would nicely greet me, poked me in the belly, picking my cheeks and once, front of the whole class he said that I'm better than everyone – special. My classmates and the whole school started to tease me that I am his little girl spoiled, his princess, and his favorite one. I didn't like that. The first reason because he started to touch me and pet me sometimes on the head when nobody was around us. I started to be scared. And that one rainy day I forgot my umbrella.

Rain was pounding the windshields of the car. It was autumn. The wind was wildly blowing.  It blows to its rhythm. It was Friday. Like today I'm the only who lives near the school but still I would get wet to bare skin. I initially agreed to the transfer, it seemed to me quite inappropriate to sit in the car of teacher.

I will never forget that day, and this is perhaps the main trigger to never sit in someone else's car. I was in the hallway. Well dressed and ready to fight with rain until I get home. But he had stopped me and ruined my fighting plan. He was our replacement for geology. Normally he taught in high school, but our geology teacher was sick, so he taught us four weeks. That was last year. The beginning of the school year.

"Hey, you would not want to go home. It's pouring out there. “

"I have to." - I replied. I  stood surprised when he leaned his one hand on my head and grabbed me by the shoulder with  another hand. I felt uncomfortable. I moved away from him, you probably figured out that I don't like physical contact.

"You don't have an umbrella, you'll get wet honey and by the way, you'll catch cold. Come on I'll drive you home." - I found it strange that even offering me a ride because his apartment was on the other end of town. He could figure out without my help. During the class I'm mostly silent. I'm pretty shy and I can get easily annoyed by people. From the beginning I knew he was some kind of creeper.

"No, thank you."

„Honey you'll get wet." - He smiled – "Come on. Look out a little better." - I knew what was out there, but I looked anyway. Indeed it was a good excuse to drive me home. But I hate cars.

"That's nothing..." - I saw him in the face after my sentence, he was a bit angry. In the end I gave up and let him drive me home. I sat in the front seat. He quickly appeared next to me. I've always had a nose for a hunch. So I felt this isn't going good. I had such a strange feeling of fear that I regretted it the moment I went to the car. As we drove, the lights on the road were changing, and it was dark. There was no one on the roads.

"I would not let my child without an umbrella out of the house."  He said humorously. He looked at me and gave gas. "You don't like to drive, right?" He asked me. After what happened to me and mom before I was supposed to go home from the holidays I will never watch the cars with the same eyes.

"No. I don't like it." I replied quietly. Sour feeling appeared in my throat.

"Are you afraid?" He looked at me curiously. I nod. I swallowed dumplings. In his face appeared this strange look and a smile that made my skin crawled. He throttled and just kept driving. He was driving fast. Too fast. I panicked. The light from the outside was quickly changing and he smiled slyly.

"So, should I drive faster honey?" He throttled harder and faster. I started to panic.

"Please, can you slow down?" I began to sob, my voice got drowned by the fear I felt in me and tears were already on the cheeks.

"Sure honey..." He didn't slowing down. We started to come near my quart but he just continued the road and cross my neighborhood. I started crying terribly.

"You should turn to the street before."

"I know where you live." He looked at me with eyes from which some vile thoughts were burning. I was overcome by a cold sweat.

"Please take me home!" I begged and wept He laughed even more insidious, almost made fun of me but he didn't show that. He said nothing. I cried terribly. Braked sharply after he turned into some sort of impasse. Darkness fell across my eyes on. I thought I would go mad. We stopped in front of a building. I wanted to get out. The moment when I wanted to open the car door he grabbed my shoulder.

"Where are you going?"

"Let me go!" He squeezed me harder. His face was smiling but he chewed his anger and lust quietly.

"I've been hearing lot about you, my little one, and I really like what I heard."

"Let me go!" I cried.

"Let's see if you are so shy ..." He began to unzipping his pants. He grabbed me with both hands on the shoulders but suddenly he changed his mind.

„No, we are not gonna doing it here. Let's have fun in my apartment. “– He tied me, clogged my mouth and cared me in his apartment.

The rest was so horrible that I can't talk about it. But that was the worst day in my life. Next day in school he just started to tease me, touch me, watching me and he once whispered in my ear:

„Listen to me, my cute little kitten, if you tell anybody about this... You will feel me so good that you'll forget you name. I will burn your home down, your mum, friends and everyone else. You'll be quiet and you do whatever I say and everything will be ok. Understand? “

I started to notice subtle signs that things were moving really fast when he would make out with me. He would grab my hand and put it where he wanted it. Or tell me to rub him through his jeans. I was always hesitant about it because it was moving fast. So I never did it at my own will I guess you could say. I told him many times I was not planning on having sex for a while, its just my moral code. He made it clear to me that it was fine, no rush. So that made me feel more comfortable in the relationship. So Skipping a month into the relationship we were in his room making out, it was pretty late. I was going to stay the night because I lived in a city over which it was a 30 minute drive. I had stayed one time before and nothing ever happened to make me think I couldn’t trust him. After all he was great to me.

We had the lights off watching a movie that was almost over and we were making out. Nothing unusual. I was wearing my summer dress (which I haven’t worn since that night)at first we were making out side by side and he rolled on top of me so he was in between my legs. Again nothing seemed off. The movie had ended I remember looking at the credits rolling so it was pretty dark now. He laid his chest on top of me and had me in like a hugging position, he kissed my neck and he just stuck it inside of me. I was in complete shock. I couldn’t move. I put my hands on his chest and kind of pushed him away and said woah woah no.

He stopped and kept kissing me and then he went at it again. I told him no stop and I had my hands on his chest again this time he did two long strokes and stopped. The pain was horrible, not just because I was a virgin (I fooled around with myself so it wasn't that.) It was being entered without and foreplay and against what I wanted so I was as tense as possible. I was shaking, I just had my hands on my head trying not to panic about what just happened. I just laid there watching the credits while he finished on my chest. He knew if he had fingered me before I would have said no because I wasn't ready for that yet. So he just skipped ahead to what he needed.

After he got dressed he asked if I was okay because I’m sure I was pale and looked sick. That’s how I felt. I said “mmhmm” I just slept in that dress I didn’t get up or anything. He got back in bed and was like are you sure you’re okay. That’s what scared me the most was he was so calm and acted like he cared even when I told him no. So many confusing emotions. I was laying pretty far from him and I could feel the tears coming after I realized my virginity was gone. It went to someone who I didn’t think earned it yet. I trusted him.

I laid there thinking for a few hours about what to do. I had convinced myself I asked for it, that I shouldn’t have worn a dress if I didn’t want it. All these ridiculous thoughts. I said maybe he did earn it, he treats me well. I had convinced myself to accepted that our relationship went to that level. That next morning it started all over again. He was really rough with me. I was already hurting from the first night but he just didn’t take no for an answer. I don’t think I have to go into detail when I say he had me do everything. I was no longer a virgin anywhere. I felts so disrespected and like I was a toy. He would say things like "I don't want to hurt you" then he would go deeper and harder. Or creepy things like "If I got you pregnant I would be so happy."

I feel like I have blocked most of it out, but in dreams he’ll be there. I had gone through a lot of heart ache keeping my virginity and warding off the guys who wanted a one night stand or a friends with benefits. Then it was all for nothing it feels like. I had been with jerks, but when I said no it was no. Nobody ever thought to just do it anyway.

I now find myself wanting to change things about me, like how I am now makes me feel like a piece of me is stuck there. I want to change my hair from brown to something different. My clothing style, my attitude. I guess I feel like my innocence was stripped from me since I was a virgin and didn’t want to lose it yet. I am a nice good kind of girl and it feels like it got stripped. I was so happy when he texted me he was ending it, that he found someone else. Then that faded and its been painful every since.

Thank you for submitting this story. You are a beautiful, amazing, courageous, and strong woman. <3

(Trigger warning: rape, sexual assault)

This is my first time writing my story. This is the first time I am thinking about my experience as a victim in a holistic way. This is the first time because for 15 years it was too.fucking.hard.

When I was in 7th grade, there was a neighborhood boy, an 11th grader who I just thought was the dreamiest. He didn’t live in our neighborhood, but he often came around to do yard work and hung around after. At first we would play together with all of the other kids in our neighborhood, but then he asked me for my phone number and our relationship quickly became more private. Over the phone we often engaged in “phone sex” and as it became more and more intense he suggested that we meet and try in person. We planned to meet, and he suggested that I should tell my parents that I was walking to the local store, but really I would meet him at a major intersection outside of my neighborhood and we would find a secluded place.

He was old enough to drive, I don’t think I was even old enough to wear a bra, but I found one for this special occasion. That was about all I knew about “being older”.

Once we met and I got in his car, he immediately put his hand down my pants and pushed my head to his penis. I still remember his smell, but more detrimentally I remember the mean things he said to me such as that I “had enough hair down there to make a wig”. I was uncomfortable and embarrassed, but too afraid to tell him that I really wasn’t ready for this type of engagement or that I was scared. So I kept going, and I guess I was consenting. I mean, as much as an 11 year old can consent to a 17 year.

We made it to a secluded spot where we continued. He seemed nervous, but he kept going. He took off his pants and told me take off mine, and then tried to enter me. I was so tiny that he didn’t fit, and I think at this point he was afraid of hurting me. He was hurting me, but he never entered me the whole way and had me finish with my mouth and hand, teaching me as we went along. There was not much talking. As soon as he finished, we left and he dropped me off at the same intersection where he picked me up. Even though I was not fully penetrated, I was raped. And from that day on I was a victim.

A few weeks later I was afraid that I was pregnant. I had no idea how any of this worked because I hadn’t even had a biology class in school yet.

I confided in my closest girl-friend. She didn’t give me advice, but hugged me and seemed as if she cared. A few days later, everyone at school was talking about how I had sex with this boy. How I threw myself on him and how he couldn’t have possibly wanted it. How I was a slut and a whore.

She was the only one who knew besides he and I, but he seemed embarrassed about the whole thing so I suspected it was her who told everyone. Eventually I got my name called over the loud speaker of my classroom asking me to come to the guidance office. The guidance counselor asked me what happened, I told her, she suggested I tell my parents. That night, his mother called my home yelling at my parents and I about how I spread this horrible rumour about her son.

I was devastated and humiliated and so.so.angry. She called me a slut and told me parents to control me better.

My dad bought a pregnancy test, I took it in front of both of my parents. Thankfully I was not pregnant.

Eventually I had to meet with detectives- I still don’t know if this was on my parent’s part or the school’s part, but that part was humiliating too. I had to tell and re-tell my story to detectives, a man and woman, in front of my parents and without my parents there. I had to go into a cop car with the detectives and drive them to the place where he took me, re-explaining the circumstances and what he said. Describing his car and his clothes.

Multiple times I had to do this. I couldn’t figure out why he wouldn’t just confess- no one was pressing charges.

After weeks of him not confessing, we ended up outside of a courtroom. He and his mother on one side, my parents and I on the other. The detectives prepping me for what I would say and how I would say it to the judge. Right before the courtroom door opened, he finally told the truth and I wouldn’t have to testify.

I found out from my parents that he received 6 months probation, but more importantly, mandatory counseling. I didn’t feel relieved necessarily, but I was glad to know that if he did have pedophilic tendencies that maybe this would help him.

Life in school was extremely difficult after this. I went through the remainder of the year unable to change classes with my peers because a group of 8th grade girls whose boyfriends’ were friends with him would threaten to beat me up, yell names at me, and slam me into lockers. The school administration did not do anything about this, but luckily there was a sympathetic teacher who allowed me to stay in her classroom until everyone else made it to their next class and then I could change.

The next year I continued to feel terrible- I had no friends at school, I did not like myself or my body and I was growing more reclusive by the day. I was glad to know that this boy would be graduating this year and there was the slight chance that people would forget about him and maybe I could begin to reclaim myself. But as I was quickly losing myself, he became a football star. Out.of.nowhere. He became a fucking football star, and everyone ignored or didn’t believe that he had any fault in our engagement nor did they know about his mandatory counseling or probation because I had respected his privacy. And I think that I actually wasn’t allowed to tell anyone, but either way, I wouldn’t have.

At the end of that year, the small sliver of hope that I had for him disappearing was lost when I learned that he failed his senior year and would have to repeat it. He would have to repeat it and I would be entering 9th grade. MY first year of high school. The first time that we would ever have to be in the same building together because of the way the grades were separated in our school system would be my first year of high school. A day I looked forward to for so long, that was now being taken away from me and hidden away with my reputation, my self-esteem, my friendships, and my life. What a fucking shit show.

It only got worse.

He remained a football star! Despite that he failed his senior year. Despite the fact that he was a rapist. And I would have to see him EVERY DAY for 9 months. My life continued to spiral out of control- I was throwing up on a regular basis, I still didn’t have any friends, I had suicidal thoughts, I cut myself, I was totally out of control.

Football season began and ended, his name and picture was often on the front page of the paper, cheerleaders were cheering for him and fighting over who would wear his jersey to school on Fridays, and I was dying and alone. Our school won a state championship in football this year. Shortly after football season ended, our school along with this boy made front page news…again. This time because he was the reason the school would be disqualified from the state championship because no player is eligible for a 5th year of high school football regardless of if they played all 4 years of their regular term or not. The school was devastated, but he was again, NEVER BLAMED.

That year he graduated, but I had no hope that he would be forgotten and that I would be miraculously remembered. Luckily I began to find friends outside of my high school and punk rock saved my life. I began to experiment with boys and girls, and it was this reclamation of my sexuality and my choice that began to make me feel like a person again. I began to feel like less of a victim, but I was still very confused and depressed and unsure of myself, but I felt a hell of a lot better than I had for the past couple of years. (Although choice and sexuality were a huge part in me surviving, I often wonder how this would have been different had I not been raped.”

Fast forward to my graduation. I graduated (yay!), and for the first time I decided I would join my classmates for an event. I had a really amazing boyfriend and I felt supported and I felt strong enough to join my classmates for a celebration despite all of the horrible ideas they had about me, despite the mean things they had said about me, despite them not knowing my story. So after graduation my boyfriend and I attended a bonfire at a girl’s house, a girl I was best friends with prior to my rape, I felt good about it. We pulled up in the car, got out, and through the bonfire, I saw the boy.

Why the FUCK was he at a party celebrating the graduation of my class?  Why The Fuck.

I immediatelty froze, I had no idea what to do, but all of my strength disappeared. I told my boyfriend I wanted to go, and he nudged me. He was a feminist and stronger than I was in this situation, and he knew that I needed support and that I needed to say something. All I could say was “Why are you here?” and then I left.

Fast forward to now. I have been out of high school since 2004. Facebook rules social circles and the internet often dictates who I should stay in contact with. A couple of weeks ago facebook suggested that I friend a girl from my high school. I used to know her- we played softball all through middle school together (prior to my rape), she was a year younger than me. I was never planning on friending her, but I definitely lurked her profile. The first thing I saw was that she is now dating the boy. The boy who raped me.

I have no idea how I feel about this, but I just can’t seem to escape him or it.

I am currently pregnant with my second child. My first one was a boy, this time it’s a girl and the experience is totally different for me. I feel so scared and terrified about having a girl because I never want her to experience the type of childhood that I did. And more importantly, I have had such fucked up relationships with other girls and women that I am terrified of my daughter’s potential and future judgement.

I am still wrapping my head around what parenting her will be like and how her life doesn’t have to be like mine, but it makes me nervous and intimidated and because of all of those feelings, I am having a very difficult time bonding with her while she is growing inside of me.

I don’t know if being pregnant with my daughter has been the trigger for all of the anxiety I have been having around my experience, or if this new acute rape culture awareness in the mainstream is the trigger. Prior to Steubenville, I had thought daily about my rape, but post-Steubenville I can barely make it through a day without nearly crying about how much of my life I have lost because I was a victim for so long.

I am hoping that by sharing my story I can begin to feel better and let women know that no matter how long you have been a victim, it doesn’t always have to be that way.

Telling your story is really hard. Coming to terms with your experience is really hard.

Life is hard, but it is harder when you are a victim.

So again, silence is not consent and no matter how long you’ve been silent, your experience isn’t any less valid than it was the day or days that it happened.  You are beautiful and you are more than what happens to you.

I have an almost 4 year old son, and I will of course teach him about sex and consent. I have already started. I am open and honest with him, even if his questions at this stage are merely from things he's overheard, they are still questions, and as his mother I feel as if I need to answer him honestly. Many people don't give children enough credit. You are never too young to start learning about sex, consent, and your body.

We're a very open household. I showered with my son up until he became old enough to sit in the shower by himself for a bit, he's seen me naked, asked what my body parts are, and I've explained to him what pubic hair is, what a vagina is, and where babies come from. He knows the correct name for his penis, and he's learned many times by now that you don't touch other people's private parts without express permission. Yes, he's only 4, but children are smart, and they absorb information like a sponge. This is only the beginning of what will be a lifetime of openly talking about sex, body parts, consent, relationships, etc. Some parents think that their kids are too young for 'that kind of talk', what I want to know is why? Our entire culture and society is filled with sexualization. You can't drive down the street or watch TV with out seeing it. It's on billboards, commercials, and on the playground. Children examine their bodies from an early stage and are naturally curious about these things. Why hide it from them?

I haven't received any questions about sex yet, because my son hasn't been exposed to sex aside from his own sexuality/genitals, but when I do, I will truthfully answer. I feel as if not truthfully answering your child is setting them up to have confusion about what something really means.

Educating your children about consent and healthy sex from the get-go is extremely important to me. I believe that my son will have ultimate respect for this extremely intimate experience, and he will have good values, because I have never been less than open with him. I will eventually have raised an empowered and educated young adult, and that is important to me.

You don't have to teach your one year old about the specifics of sex, but you can teach about consent from the get-go. You can teach them to ask permission before touching someone else, teach your children that 'no' and 'stop' are important words, and teach them that it's just as important for them to say no or stop. Don't force your children to hug, kiss, or touch anyone. Now, my son loves people and children, he knows he can always come and hug and kiss me, but teaching him to ask first, "Sarah, can I give you a hug?", "John, can I hold your hand?", is important. It's not only teaching your child consent, but it's also teaching them boundaries. While my son may love getting hugs and kisses from other people, he will learn that not everyone will have the same boundaries as him, and it's not a bad thing if someone says "no, I don't want a hug."

Allow your children to talk about bodies. I have always allowed Eli to talk about bodies, and he frequently talks about his penis. He knows the correct words for body parts, and he knows that he is allowed to examine and touch his own body parts, but also that he does not have express permission to examine someone else's body parts. Since he's seen me naked, he understands what the female anatomy is. We haven't had the sex conversation yet, but he knows that babies are made by two people, where they grow, and how they enter the world.

It's never too early to talk to your children about these things, in fact, it's ideal to start talking about it immediately, and for it to be an ongoing discussion. I feel as if I am laying the groundwork for my sons future, and he will be open with me, as I have been with him. The thing is to make it a constant communication, make it normal every day conversation. The more we talk about these things and the less we hide them, the more chance we have for these subjects to no longer be 'taboo' or something that is not talked about at all.

This is the last of the correspondence between my rapist and I. This message alone shows me that, while I was raped and I am a victim, if society and our culture was more open about rape and the definition of consent, then maybe my rape would never have happened. Maybe it would have, but maybe B wouldn't have been a part of it.

There's a show that I watch called Wicked Attraction. It's my pass the time, nothing else to do show, but it's about couples who kill/rape, etc. A lot of detectives, experts, and psychologists talk about how (and this isn't always the case, sometimes both parties involved are sociopathic, etc.) sometimes when two people meet, one has violent and/or sociopathic tendencies and the other person is vulnerable and/or feeds off the other person, and does things like commit rape or murder, when they might not have ever been a rapist or killer if it wasn't for that person.

I feel as if my story rings similarly true. i've thought about it a lot, and I feel like B would have ever raped someone if it hadn't been for A. But the fact is he did, now he is fully aware he did and was a part of that, and he will have to live with that for the rest of his life, just like I've had to live with being a victim, and subsequently a survivor, since 9 years ago. 

Here is the last message I received from my rapist, i didn't send a message back because, well, it's over:

  Jessica, i'm sorry to have dredged up unpleasant memories for you, but am simultaneously happy that they've provided a sense of closure for you and forgiveness for me. hate is the most powerful emotion one can express, and to think that someone (you) have felt that toward me for so long (unbeknownst to me) is disconcerting to say the least. i'm glad that this dialog has made steps away from the harboring of hate.

when i left boston in 2007 i didn't look back. largely because of the issues/things you mentioned. since leaving i have not uttered a single syllable to A and/or the majority of the people that i was surrounded by during those years...there's no point/no good that will come from it.

i am very happy to hear that you are working as an activist and have a son/soon-to-be husband. this provides a great amount of hope for your future/the future in general!

i wish the best to you and your family.

Yesterday I wrote about the initial response from my rapist after I opened communication. I want the start this entry off by saying this: do not feel as if you have to confront your rapist. Not everyone can or wants to, and that is ok. You do not have to contact your rapist, and you can heal without doing so. For me, I felt as if this was something I had to do, for myself. Healing is a process that you will go through naturally. I will say this it is good to find a support system, you shouldn't have to go through this alone. I went through it alone for a very long time and it was extremely hard. Support groups are one of the things that I feel are wonderful in this kind of situation. I have never gone to a rape support group, but I have  gone to a postpartum depression support group, and it helped me immensely, being in a group of other women who were having the same experiences as I was, and not being judged for whatever I might have said.

If anyone needs or wants to talk to someone and does not want to go to a support group, I am available and can be contacted at [email protected].

Below is my response to my rapist. I did the same thing as yesterday and bolded and numbered several parts to talk about after the email.

  B,

First off, thank you. You provided me with information of that night that I had absolutely no recollection of. I had no idea that there were any sexual relations involved with A and myself at that time, and I don't remember C making out with me or anyone else.

I still consider what happened to me as rape, but I don't blame you, and I forgive you for any part of what happened between you and me, even though you might not have realized at the time that I was an unwilling participant, even though I seemed to be cognitive (1). I was not, and even upon hearing the events that took place, my memory still fails me. It makes me wonder if I was given something by A that no one else had taken. I wish I knew what it was that I had taken.

I have hated you for 9 years. And everyone else involved. But I don't hate you now. I feel as if anything, the person that I should hate at this point is A. She's has done things to my friends pertaining to this event, such as threaten or push against a wall, that makes me thing she was the mastermind.

Whether I seemed cognitive or not, I wasn't. I was not aware of what was happening, I didn't have the sound ability to consent, even if I was going along with it (2).

It took me a long time to get over it, as I said before, but in a way the even that night has shaped my intense desire to help others who have been sexually assaulted. I am an activist for women's rights, and I am an activist for speaking up about rape and domestic violence. Consent is a definitive yes, and being in a state of mind where one can cognitively agree to such a situation. Someone cannot consent to such situations if one is drunk, or drugged (3) (I attached a photo of what I believe to be the "rules" of consent". I remember my eyes were closed and when I opened them, you were having sex with me and I was confused and scared. The only thing I could do at that time was close my eyes again.

When I first read your message, I started crying. Reading the words of this stuff that happened that I have absolutely no recollection of is hard. I still have found closure, because I know know what did happen.

When we went to Planned Parenthood I believe I was in a state of shock. My defense mechanism was probably joking. I've made light of many situations that have happened in my life, because what else am I going to do? At that moment I was scared, confused, felt violated, and I honestly just wanted to never see you or A again. I just wanted it to end, and the trip to Planned Parenthood was like stabbing an already open wound. (4)

I think about my early 20's and Boston, and some of the people in Boston, and I am truly appalled at the behavior and cult like actions that some of those people partook in. It was as if there were ring leaders and they were partaking in all sorts of sketchy shit. I am just sorry that I was a victim to one of those instances, but I don't blame myself for what happened anymore. (5)

I am not a fan of police, so I am not pressing charges or filing a police report. I just want you to know that. I feel like confronting you was the only justice that could have been served for me.

I don't think I can bear to contact A. I find her to be of the sociopathic nature, and I don't think anything good will result from it.

I feel like this chapter is coming to a close, so thank you for that. Even though I've been through a lot of shit and even come close to dying because of cancer, I have a beautiful 4 year old son, and I'm getting married in May.

So thank you again for being transparent with me. Jessica

  1.I still consider what happened to me as rape, but I don't blame you, and I forgive you for any part of what happened between you and me, even though you might not have realized at the time that I was an unwilling participant, even though I seemed to be cognitive. - This passage is me telling my rapist that he did rape me, but I forgave him. Do not expect yourself to forgive your rapist, you don't have to. I found forgiveness in my heart because I truly believe that, while he is my rapist, that he was under the influence of A at the time, and had he not been involved with A then I fully believe he might not have ever raped someone. Now, I can't say this for sure, but knowing A, I feel this to be true. Either way, I forgave my rapist for theft of my personhood. I harbored hate and resentment for 9 years and suddenly being able to forgive one of the people who did this to me was a release. That being said, I will never forgive the other parties involved in what happened to me.

2. Whether I seemed cognitive or not, I wasn't. I was not aware of what was happening, I didn't have the sound ability to consent, even if I was going along with it - I wanted to reiterate that no matter what I might have "seemed", it was not what I "was." I have no idea what drugs were given to me. Some drugs can have an effect on a person where they seem coherent or are cognitive, but in reality, they are not. Maybe this was the situation I was in. I remember passing out at one point. It needs to be said that people need to be aware that if someone has taken drugs, is drunk, or both, that they cannot consent. You can't ask a person who has consumed either of these things if they are blacked out, because they will not be able to answer this question. 

3. Consent is a definitive yes, and being in a state of mind where one can cognitively agree to such a situation. Someone cannot consent to such situations if one is drunk, or drugged. - Just another reiteration. I needed to drill this into my rapists head. I believe that my words will stay with him forever.

4. When we went to Planned Parenthood I believe I was in a state of shock. My defense mechanism was probably joking. I've made light of many situations that have happened in my life, because what else am I going to do? At that moment I was scared, confused, felt violated, and I honestly just wanted to never see you or A again. I just wanted it to end, and the trip to Planned Parenthood was like stabbing an already open wound.- This is my response to him saying that I was joking when we went to Planned Parenthood. I needed to tell him that just because someone is making a "joke," it doesn't mean that the situation that is happening is ok. What else was I going to do? I felt like I just had to go along with them coming to Planned Parenthood with me. I was scared. 

5. I am just sorry that I was a victim to one of those instances, but I don't blame myself for what happened anymore. - This is a huge step for any victim of sexual assault, not blaming yourself for what happened anymore. It took me a long time. That's normal. What happened to you isn't normal, so processing it and healing can be a long an arduous journey. This line was me taking my power back. 

This is me and my almost 4 year old son. Now you can put a face to my story.

And this picture depicts happiness. If you have ever been sexually assaulted and can relate to the emotions of my posts, I want to tell you that it will get better. You will have your life back, even if at this moment you are consumed by the traumatic events that have happened to you.