Trigger warning: rape, sexual assault
Confronting your assailant can be very terrifying, and it’s something many of us dread. We don’t want to be the ones who have to educate our assailant on what’s wrong and what’s right. I have sat many nights alone, in tears, going over and over in my head what I should have said to him, what I could have done differently. That’s the thing though, the only thing that would have made a difference is whether there was a rapist in the room or not because no matter what I changed about my actions that day, things would be the same if a rapist is present. They’re the problem, not me for trusting them.
Many of my supportive friends said I should message him telling him how I felt about that night. I thought about it, and I don’t think his answer to my message would change anything for me. It doesn’t erase what he did to me. Say he responded poorly to the message and denied everything, then that would more than likely cause me to second guess myself even more—question whether I was too drunk to remember the night clearly. Perhaps make me turn over that thought enough times to where I believe I wasn’t raped. Now, on the other hand, if he were to respond well by acknowledging what he did was wrong but wasn’t aware of it at the moment, would that make things better? No, because this means more men need to be properly educated on what “no” can look like.
I’d ask him if he didn’t hear me say, “No, I’m not ready.” But this is a dumb question because he clearly did, for he responded back with, “You’ll be fine,” and before I knew it, it was happening. Everything happened too fast. Did he not hear me get quiet once he was inside me, or was he too concerned with his own pleasure to pay attention to my needs. That’s the thing – what he did was a very selfish act. He knew I was uncomfortable with what he wanted to do and did it anyway because he was only thinking about himself and getting off.
Once it was over, it was as if time was going too fast for me to grasp what truly happened. Like I didn’t have enough time to fight back. One friend of mine asked me why I didn’t scream, and this question really ate at my brain for a few hours. When my brain was finally done digesting this question, I realized that the answer is because I knew it wouldn’t have changed anything, for he would have kept going. But at the moment, I failed to think of this because I was overloaded with stress and anxiety that it caused me to freeze. Everyone’s heard of fight or flight, well my body decided to shut down. I was confused, hurt, scared, and worried that I wasn’t in the right headspace to properly figure out what to do at the moment.
I would tell him that he didn’t just rape me but that he took away any amount of trust I had in myself. He violated me in more than one way. He made me second guess myself and doubt myself. At the end of the day, I only have myself to rely on, so by him robbing me of my trust, in myself and everyone, I have become consumed by the feeling of being lost and confused.
I wonder how many times he’s done this to other girls because the way he moved and talked showed that I wasn’t his first conquest. I wanted to be the girl who put a stop to his selfish acts by speaking up. But I am not ready to face him. I know if I face him, it’ll just bring up the trauma, and it’ll just feel like I’m reliving it, and that’s the last thing I want. I have even been putting off writing this article because I knew I would have to really put more thought into what occurred. Yet, here I am, finishing it. I feel as if everyone around me was putting the pressure on me to educate him to help potentially prevent anything like this ever happening to another girl, and I wanted so badly to be that girl to put an end to his wrongful acts. All I want to do is forget it ever happened, though, and move on.
I have to deal with the awkwardness and uncomfortableness that comes with bringing this subject up to anyone, for I know they are usually at a loss of words when I tell them. I feel the need to have to explain to my sexual partners why it bothers me when they touch me a certain way now. Or the confusion I live in; I am caught between wanting to still give guys a chance but don’t have the energy for it anymore. The energy I have now is severely depleted. I can’t express enough what this experience has done to my mental state and physically. You know when a patient gets their leg caught off, but they can feel sensation in that area still even after their leg is gone? That phantom pain is what I feel whenever another person attempts to touch me the way he did. He might be gone, but I can still feel his grimy hands on me, his musty breath on my neck, and hear him utter his rebuttal to my “no.”
Did he not read my body language? I became stiff, soundless, and no longer wet. One moment I was completely into it, and then the next minute, I stop talking and moving. There’s a clear difference. It’s a tragedy that I have to illustrate the fact that just because I consented to one thing, doesn’t mean I consented to everything. There’s this thing called boundaries, and he most definitely knew he was crossing them. Perhaps he thought that since I consented to one thing in particular, that I would be okay with everything else, so he took it upon himself to shrug off my rejection and give in to his own pleasures.
The question of why I didn’t report him to the police got tossed around a bit from my friend group, mostly from male friends. My female friends knew why I didn’t; That’s due to the fact that many women who do end up reporting their rapist to authorities, most times, nothing gets done. Especially if it’s not right after the attack because of the lack of proof, it’s just her word against his. They rarely ever get punished for the act they committed. And when they do get punished, it’s a weak punishment, where they’ll probably learn nothing from their mistake. The women who decide to speak up usually have to face backlash, accusing them of lying. A victim doesn’t want to feel unseen and unheard when she’s telling her trauma, in hopes that she would be comforted, when she’s already going through a lot trying to heal from their attack.
When I second-guessed myself about what actually happened, I started to make up excuses for him, trying to explain how or why it happened. That maybe he mistook my moan that occurred seconds before he asked me if I liked a certain, specific sexual act as a yes. When really, it wasn’t a valid response to his question. The only correct answer to his very indirect question would have been “yes,” and nothing else.
The way he phrased his question also was something that caught me off-guard because even if I liked that specific sexual act, it doesn’t mean I would have wanted that to occur, especially with one someone I am just meeting that day. Also, since I brought up how it was my first time meeting him that day, does not warrant any right for “well, you were asking for it,” because it doesn’t matter if it’s the first time I am meeting them, or it’s the 100th time seeing them, it’s still not right.
No matter the number of stories I can come up with in my head as an explanation as to why he did it, it would never justify his actions that night. I need to remember that and constantly remind myself of that when I start to blame myself. A reminder that your feelings are valid. My feelings are valid despite what people have to say in objection. You know yourself the most, if you know something is severely wrong, then trust that feeling and don’t let others or the assailant try to persuade you to feel otherwise.
More men need to be educated on what consent and boundaries look like. They should also be taught how to handle rejection well. Why is it that all this falls on women and how they’re the ones whoever get educated on what not to wear, what not to say, what not to do and when not to do it. How about teach the men not to rape instead of teaching women to be constantly afraid and how to prevent rape.
I wish I could muster up the strength to tell him all these things and to explain how he made me feel and how it continues to affect me. To tell him that because of him, I don’t know who to trust. That he’s one of the reasons why women are always living on high alert. From double-checking that no guy is following them, to making sure that some guy isn’t drugging their drink. He’s the reason women lose faith in men. He’s the reason I got raped, not because I wore the “revealing” outfit or got drunk or met up with some guy from a dating app.
Read also:
Things I Wish I Had Learned In Sex-Ed: Virginity
The Power Of Twitter: What Happens When Victims Break Their Silence?
Time To Take Up Space: We Are Not Small, We Are Mighty
