You are not alone. Together we can de-stigmatize speaking out about our experiences with sexual harassment, assault, and more.
As she laid there cold and numb fighting the moon to close her eyes. Feeling the hay, mold into her back, as she is thrusted up and down, not taking her eyes off the moon, in hopes the moon could save her or the tree, maybe one star, just one. Her eyes swelled up like fountains about to overflow, as the tears fell down the side of her face they left a cold trail to her ears and further down to her throat. She felt a piece of her soul breaking, spirit leaving. Her innocence ripped from her chest down to underwear. Not comprehending what was happening but very much felt the hate, the evil of what was being done to her. She could not fight it, the power of evil was far too great. So she chose the moon, glared at it as her memories of running through the fields and picking flowers faded, smelling vanilla through the house as her mom had a cake coming out of the oven, all the things that brought her joy emptied, her smile gone. The thrusting stops, she hears the barn door open and close. It's cold and wet between her legs as if she wet herself, she could not feel a thing she couldn't even move. She felt as if an elephant had been on her crushing her, leaving her there to die. Her heart is thumping out of her chest, her breathing is slowing down. She looks to the beautiful moon and the silent night sky, the stars become blurry as it all blends together and fills with darkness. She falls into a sleep.
This story of my own personal experience is just that, personal. I am happy for my first time talking (or rather writing) about this is my first. And I am happy to be sharing my experience of one of the most kindest thing my mother did for me in my adulthood. Speaking from my own experience as a mother, when a mother bathes her child it is more than just a tub and some water. It is a ceremony of devotion and love. It is a form of therapy and a moment of peace. Filled with laughter and smiles and song, when a mother bathes her child it is the most precious thing in the world.
Dear fellow survivors, There’s no question about it — it was aggravated sexual assault. It was pre-meditated. The exact categorization of the assault is probably attempted rape.
Boundaries. This word is used so often that some might mistake it for a meaningless buzzword--a form of virtue signaling. But boundaries are real, and important to respect.
Don’t ask me for a specific date. Or even a location. Actually, don’t ask me any questions at all. What I’m telling you here is what I can remember. Some of that has to do with having been drugged. In the early 80s, I had never heard of the ‘date rape’ drug. I didn’t club or party, so I was a part of the scene that had such a vocabulary.
Xxxxxt, Finally, I’ve mastered the courage to confront you, to tell my story, to reclaim my virginity. Let’s travel back to Winter Ball, Freshman year in High School.
Patriarchy found me. Maybe because it was Christmas Day, maybe because it was the Christmas carols I heard on my Spotify list, but I found myself drinking a glass of wine and wondering how I ended up alone on this day. It wasn't because of the lack of other options or because of the Coronovirus. It was because of the fact that I am an inconvenient woman and because patriarchy is evil and it sucks. Over the last two days, I realized that two men from my alma mater had taken advantage of me on two separate occasions when I was inebriated after consuming alcohol with them and I was not able to give consent.
In 2017, the MeToo movement promised something that many victims of sexual assault could never have dreamed of. After centuries of silencing women’s voices and scoffing at their stories, one hashtag suddenly became a beacon of hope for survivors around the world – promising real change to the way we regard sexual assault allegations, and offering a community they could seek refuge in.
It’s Friday night, I was 16. My friends invited me out to a party and I was itching to get out, so I agreed. We had planned on drinking so we didn’t want to drive ourselves. A mutual friend had offered to give us a ride to the party, and back home. We thought that was a good idea and we could all have fun together without having to worry since we had a “responsible” designated driver.
The date is September 18, 2013. I am 18 years old. I am in the middle of my first semester of college. I am unaware that someone might want to take advantage of me. I am naïve.
Babe, hey I want to do it. I am not in the mood. I am tired. You don't have to do anything, just lay there. No. I don't want to. I just showered. I want to sleep. Maybe tomorrow.
If you were to ask me ten years ago to write my story, sorry no. If you were to ask me to write about the trauma I had went through as a maturing pre-teen, I would have told you to shit bricks,.. oops is that language even allowed here? Apologies. In my defense ten years ago, I was fifteen years young, filled with anger and trauma. I've honestly had this tab sitting open. Not knowing where to start. As you can tell by my picture, it's 2 a.m. A normal person would be sleeping at this time. Here I am rambling about things that don't really matter, so I will get started, the first time it happened.