TRIGGER WARNING: These stories may contain explicit descriptions of rape, sexual assault, domestic violence, relationship abuse, and other forms of personal violation that may be triggering for survivors of sexual violence.
I didn’t know I was raped. I didn’t know, until years later when age and wisdom opened my eyes to what had happened. I was in a violent and abusive relationship for a while at college. Frequently my partner would force me to have sex with him, I didn’t put up much of a fight because it was a marginally preferable alternative than the physical violence, which would often follow anyway. I didn’t know that it was okay to say ‘no’ even if you were in a relationship, I didn’t know that having sex with your partner even if you didn’t want to was rape, I didn’t know how to say 'no’. It took me years to be able to say that my ex-partner raped me. I could always quite easily say 'my ex was violent’, or 'I experienced domestic violence,’ even 'my ex beat me up’ - it seemed as though this was easier to say than 'I was raped’. Even now, years later, the word sticks in my throat, as though I wasn’t really a victim because I somehow let him do it. I never reported any of it to the police, though my neighbours frequently called them during violent incidents, I would always deny anything had happened. Eventually, I ended the relationship. It wasn’t easy to get away from him, and it took another year after the break up before he finally left me alone for good. Looking back, I just feel angry and disgusted with myself and with him.