You are not alone. Together we can de-stigmatize speaking out about our experiences with sexual harassment, assault, and more.
Do You Hate Me for Not Pressing Charges?
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.
On Learning to Respect Boundaries
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.
I Was Raped
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.
Reclaiming a Lost Virginity
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.
The #MeToo movement is no longer about the victims
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.
I Thought it was Just a Party
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.
Updating in Progress
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.
I am not a Victim but like #MeToo
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.
Sexual Harassment and the consequences of a society based on male dominance.
For many women the ability to advance their career, get a better grade in school, get out of a speeding ticket, provide for your children when you are a single mother; may unfortunately put them in a place to use their sexuality to succeed. For some men all women are an easy target. Especially vulnerable, desperate women.
I Do Not Want To Write This
Trigger warning: sexual assault, grooming This is going to be very different from what I normally write. If you are a friend of mine, I would appreciate a check-in with me before you read this. If you are new, welcome. I’m sure this found you for a reason. I don’t want to submit this. I will anyway.
To the man who tried to assault me, I'm sure you don't remember me. After all, I was just a waitress in a hotel trying to get through the 6th Christmas party she'd served at that week and heading to get more cutlery at 1am while you were stumbling up from the bar. I was just 17 years old when you grabbed me by the waist so hard you left bruises as I tried to walk past you. "Oh baby... baby where are you going?" You slurred into my ear while pressing your erection against my hip. "You don't want to work tonight, come back to my room instead... you'll have much more fun" you smirked as you pushed me through a door and down the corridor. You shushed my protestations and, when I began to cry while saying "please no" over and over again, you grabbed my upper arm and told me to shut up.