#project emancipation

I have been invaded twice. I did not call it rape, I have not called it rape. But it is. I have been raped. Twice. Once when I was 16. Once last year. They were not violent. They were both with people I know. I did not keep it a secret. I confronted both men about it. I did not cry after. But I am crying now as I write this post. I do not feel broken. I do not feel bent. I do not feel scarred. But I still have trouble admitting that I was raped.

My little sister was raped. My best friend was raped. My mother was molested as a child. I don’t want to have daughters because I am afraid that they will be victims. 

I do not see myself as a victim but I see myself as a survivor. I do not hate my rapists. They didn’t think they did anything wrong. That’s why I confronted them. They needed to know.

I say I have been invaded because their presence in my body was not welcomed. It was not encouraged. Sex is beautiful but it should be shared between people. You have no control on my body so you may not enter unless I want you to enter.

If I tell you I don’t want to have sex with you…that means you don’t have my consent. If i use my hands to block you from entering me….that means you don’t have my consent. You should have stopped. If you have to convince and coerce that doesn’t mean try a new tactic…or try again in a few minutes….that means you don’t have my consent. Stop trying. 

One thing I have never had problems with was speaking about what happened to me. Death and life are in the power of the tongue. Silence is choosing death by the tongue…but speaking up and speaking out? That’s choosing life by the tongue. This life is a gift. It should be enjoyed. Let’s start to enjoy it again…little by little. Day by day.

And Hannah, thank you my love. You are amazing in so many ways.