RAPE

Readers, I have a confession to make; I haven't been honest with any of you. Yes, I started the blog because I wanted to increase my toy collection, and because I wanted to partake in all the women's health issues dialogues that are currently taking place in this election year; but the real reason, though, is because a year ago today I was raped. In thinking about bringing this blog into fruition, I felt that getting my rape story "out there" would help to ease my pain.

Before I begin, I know that many of my friends read this blog, and chances are that most of you know who my attacker was. I ask you to please not confront this person if you do indeed figure out who it was. For those that don't know, please don't ask. I'm writing this as a form of therapy for myself with the hopes of letting all of that go and moving on with my life as soon as it is posted.

I've had a total of two traumatic experiences in my life, and all within under two years of each other. The first was the loss of my little sister, which took me down a dark and lonely path in which I pulled away from everyone. My second experience, my rape, has taken me down a dark and lonely path from which I've been pulling away from the person I once was.

I  had a friend from Los Angeles visiting me back when I was living in Portland. He was nearing the end of his second week stay in Oregon; he split his time between Portland and some other part of Oregon where he has family and went to go visit for a week. The entire time that he stayed with me he slept on my bed, while I slept on the futon, as I assumed any good host would do. He and I were both going to be leaving Portland that following Saturday morning; him back to LA, and me to San Francisco to visit some friends and go to a college football game.

I vividly remember everything that happened that day. It was Thursday, September 29, 2011, and I went to work like any other day. I was "seeing" someone at the time and, as we sometimes did, he and I were chatting back and forth. After opening up to my friend who was visiting, I decided to take his advice and put all my cards on the table with this guy I was seeing. I asked him, point blank, where I fit in his busy life. I should have figured things out by that point; I hadn't seen him in a while, about a month, and our only method of communication was via IM. Things had obviously not been moving forward, and they weren't going to. Unfortunately, though, I'm a bit of a masochist and needed to hear from him, directly, that things had gone as far as they were going to go in the "relationship." To my dismay, all I was told was that his intent was not to place me in a holding pattern. I wanted more clarification on that statement, but I didn't receive any.

Dejected and rejected, I knew that I wanted to go out and forget about it all. My friend and I decided to go karaoke at my favorite "hole in the wall" karaoke place. He drank, I sang, and he opened up about how in love he was with my best friend. He hated the fact that she was seeing a "white boy", as he put it, and didn't bother to give him a chance. I told him that he needed to stop being so prejudiced and just accept the fact that she was happy. The entire evening was this same scenario until we closed down the bar; I sang and moped, he drank and continued to profess his love for my best friend. On our drive back to my place, he continued to tell me how much he loved my friend. I was slightly annoyed, but mostly amused by his drunk rantings.

We went into my apartment, and as I locked the door behind me, he proceeded to kissed me. At first I just let it happen, mainly because I used to have a crush on this person, but I quickly came to my senses, and remember how in love he was with my best friend, and pushed him away. He apologized and I told him that we should go to bed. At this point, he stopped me and told me that he felt guilty for taking up my bed and that I should just sleep in my room that night; he would sleep on one side of the bed and me on the other. Not thinking much about it, and quite frankly tired of being uncomfortable on the futon, I decided to sleep in my room with him.

After I put on my pajamas, I want into the room and lay on the bed. At this point, he jumped on top of me and began making out with me once again, but added some groping. I pushed him off and got up from the bed. On my way out the bedroom, he stopped me, apologized, promised to not make any more advances on me and convinced me to come back to the bed. That was the worst decision of my life.

As I came back to my bed, he pinned me down and proceeded to rip off my pajama bottoms and underwear. He went down on me, briefly, but long enough to hurt my vulva; I believe that he bit me while he was down there. Then, without a condom, he proceeded to rape me. It wasn't long before I managed to finally break free from him, he probably got in only about two pumps, but the damage had been done. The entire time I was aware of the fact that it was really late at night and I didn't want to wake up my neighbors for some reason. So, although I was pleading for him to stop, and was attempting to physically push him away, I never raised my voice loud enough to wake up the neighbors.

After I got free, I grabbed my pajama bottoms and put them on. At this point, he said something that has continued to affect me; "you're friend doesn't want me, so now you don't want me?" I didn't want to hear any of this, so I rushed into the living room, wrapped myself in my blanked, and lay on the futon in the fetal position. A few moments later, he came into the living room. All he said was that he was sorry. I told him to leave me alone, that I had to be up early in the morning to go to work.

That night I cried more than I slept. Earlier that day I was rejected, then, after being told how much in love he was with my friend, I was violated in the worst way possible, followed by an attempt to feel guilty for not accepting his sexual advances. I was beside myself, and my mind and emotions were going a million miles an hour. I didn't know what my next move was going to be.

It's not until you've been attacked by someone you know, and considered to be a close friend, that you realize that sometimes you just can't make a simple decision to notify the authorities about your violation. What you want to do is nothing, because you feel like nothing. You feel insignificant, and in my case, only felt desired for sex, as if that was all I was good for. I confided in my two close friends about what transpired that previous night. Although, I wasn't completely honest about what happened. To them, I explained that what occurred was a sexual assault, and not a rape. It took me three to four months to acknowledge the fact that I was indeed raped. They advised me to kick him out of my apartment, but I wasn't sure about what I wanted to do.

On my lunch break, I went back to my apartment, as I normally do, and found that he was out walking my dog. While I was sitting on my couch, eating my lunch, he walked in and sat on the far end of the couch. He hung his head low and proceeded to explain that he didn't really remember what happened the previous night, but that he felt like he did something wrong and wanted to apologize for it. I told him what was on my mind at the moment, which was something close to the following:

"You made me feel so violated. The worst part was that this happened from you; someone whom I considered to be a close friend and whom I confided in. NO ONE has ever made me feel the way that you did last night. So insignificant. So vulnerable."

I thought that telling him that would make me feel better, but it didn't. After my lunch break, I went back to work and attempted to push through the day. After work, he and I barely spoke. He fell asleep on the futon that night, and I had no choice but to sleep on the bed that I was raped in the previous night. We both got up that following Saturday morning, finished packing, and drove to the airport. Since we were flying in separate airlines, I broke away from him and advanced to the security check point. I went through the metal detector, then just walked to my gate. Half-way to my gate, I receive a text from him apologizing about what transpired and him expressing his desire to continue our friendship. My response to him was honest; "I don't know if you've lost my friendship, but I need my space." He apologized once more, and thanked me for letting him stay with me.

Since the rape, I learned that I got an STI, which only added to my feelings of self-loathing. Fortunately, everything was treated and I'm now fine, but at the damage has been done and I still feel disgusting, and even more undesirable. I don't consider the rape to be a sexual encounter, but because of it I haven't had a sexual encounter since my last one, which took place in July, about a little over a month before the rape. My trust issues with men have gotten worse, and I have noticed that my depression has also taken a turn for the worst in terms of its frequency. But after talking to my therapist, I decided that I would share my story on here with the hope that it would help someone who has gone through such an ordeal, or for others to see that it can happen to anyone.

If there's anything that I would like for you all to take away from my experience is that this can happen to anyone. And men, please be aware of your advances and actions and the impact they have on women, especially if they are unwanted. No ALWAYS means no.

Until next time, stay safe!


If you, or someone you know, has been a victim of any kind of sexual assault or rape, please call RAINN's (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) hotline at 1.800.656.HOPE (1.800.656.4673).

Sexual Assault Awareness Month

April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and it seems only right to bring to light some of the statistics. Sexual assault against women is not just an unfortunate occurrence as much as it is more of a common fact, particularly when looking at the data. According to Feminist.com, "22 million women in the United States have been raped in their lifetime." Rainn.org reports "there is an average of 207,754 victims (age 12 or older) of sexual assault each year" and “97% of rapists will never spend a day in jail." These tragic numbers are all too real for a friend of mine who I interviewed for this blog post.

My friend, who I will call Amanda, graciously agreed to talk to me about her tragic experiences so that I may share them in the blog. The first time she was ever assaulted was before she was even in elementary school. Amanda recalls being fondled and rubbed up against by the sons of her grandmother’s friend, whom they would frequently visit. Confused by the situation, Amanda never told anyone about these attacks; so this innocent child had to continue to live with these attacks in silence.

As she got older, the attacks got worse. As a pre-teen, Amanda lived with her grandmother and her grandmother’s two stepsons. The younger boy, who was about eight years Amanda’s senior, began to sexually assault her by doing the same things the sons of her grandmother’s friend would do; he would touch her and rub up against her. These attacks happened for years, but the real shocking and unexpected attack occurred one day when she was eleven-years-old. She was home alone and doing dishes, when the eldest stepson came home. Amanda wasn’t sure if he was drunk or high, but he just came into the house, turned off the kitchen light, and proceeded to force himself on her. A few minutes into the attack, her grandmother walked into the house. She knew that something was wrong, but didn’t bother to investigate or ask Amanda if everything was ok. This lack of investigation by her grandmother, or the consistent attacks by the younger stepson coupled with the attack by the eldest son, were too much for a child to handle and Amanda began running away from home; this was the quickest solution to get the attacks to stop.

On one of the occasions in which she ran away, Amanda ran into an uncle, who was only about nineteen years old. He told her that she should stay with him, that if she was going to run away then she should stay with family, which would be safer. At this point in Amanda’s life, after so many attacks, she had begun drinking heavily, and this particular night was no different. She and her uncle started drinking, and at one point Amanda blacked out. When she finally came-to she was in a bed in a dark room, with the Gorillaz playing loudly on the radio. A few moments later she realized that her pants were off, then she felt her uncle’s face in between her legs. She tried to kick him off, but he over-powered her, and all attempts to get free from his grasp seemed futile, and that was when the rape happened. Amanda recalls that her uncle seemed to have gone mad. During the entire ordeal he kept telling her how much he loved her, and had always loved her. He also stated to her that he wanted them to get married and her to be the mother of his children.

After all was said and done, Amanda’s uncle refused to let her leave his home. For three days, not only was she a victim of rape, but also was kidnapped by her rapist. He missed work, would make her sit on the toilet while he showered, and was not allowed near the door. On the third day, she bolted to the front door and managed to get free. Once out the door she ran. Amanda ran until she couldn’t run anymore and stopped in the middle of the street. When the cops approached her she began to cry uncontrollably. Unable to calm her down, the cops waited until her family arrived. Her family told the cops that she would be all right and that this was just one of her tantrums, but nobody knew what she had endured those past three days. Even years after this incident there are still only two or three other people know what really happened.

I asked Amanda if she ever thought of reporting these attacks, or if it would give her closure to report the attacks, especially the rape and kidnapping. She calmly stated that she wouldn’t report the attacks because she didn’t want to stir up any drama. Oddly enough, I understand. I know that there are many people reading this and thinking that she should still report it, but this is a choice that she has made. She didn’t have a choice when she was sexually assaulted, but this is one thing that she does have control over, and she chooses to not report this. Amanda is very much aware that she is contributing to the statistic, but she is still dealing with the repercussions of the attacks.

In my opinion, for her to share this story with me so that I may post it in a public forum, even if it is anonymously, is a big step. I think that one of the reasons she was willing to share her story was because I told her that it was Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and in the spirit of awareness decided to recall these tragic events. My homework for everybody reading this who has younger siblings, young nieces, or young daughters, is talk to them about their bodies. Let them know that it’s not ok for other people to touch them where they don’t want to be touched. Most importantly, though, let them know that it’s ok for them to talk to you if anything should ever happen to them. Encourage them to talk to you if they feel like someone violated them in some way. Let Amanda’s story not become someone else’s story; that of a young girl who was afraid to share her tragic attacks. Amanda is in her mid-twenties and is still healing from these atrocities. Maybe, if she felt that there was a safe environment for her to share her story when she was younger, she might have never had to endure so much pain. I will say this about Amanda, and other women that are survivors of such attacks, they are strong women that still find the power to push through.

Until next time, stay excited! But most importantly, stay safe!

If you have a story you would like to share please email me. Also, if you have any suggestions for future reviews, topics, or questions please feel free to post it in the comments section or email me at DilDosNDilDonts@gmail.com.

If you, or someone you know has been a victim of any kind of sexual assault, please call RAINN's (Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network) hotline at 1.800.656.HOPE (1.800.656.4673).