April 7th, 2017.
___________________________________________________________________
April 7, 2017.
A day I want so badly to forget, but will always remember.
On this day, my life was irreversibly altered.
It was the Friday night of one of the biggest weekends our small, quaint college town sees; Spring Weekend and Greek Week. I was coming off of an unbearably stressful week, so without a doubt in my mind, I was ready to relax, unwind, and have some fun.
Little did I know, what I thought was going to be an exciting, fun-filled weekend would quickly turn into my worst nightmare.
___________________________________________________________________
In the first semester of my sophomore year, I began volunteering with the Office of Student Conduct & Integrity at different programs and events they sponsored. One that is very near and dear to my heart is The Red Flag Campaign. Through my involvement with this campaign, I began to understand and grasp just how prominent and widespread these issues were. I learned as much as I could about sexual violence. I read reports. I listened to people tell their stories. I went to the General Assembly and lobbied for bills surrounding campus sexual assault. I was riding high knowing that I had finally found that one thing that set my soul on fire.
At my first Red Flag Campaign Rally, I was asked to speak. While I don’t remember every word that I said, but I will always remember this portion of it…
“It’s on us to make sure that these things are talked about and not swept under the rug. It is our responsibility as Lancers, but most importantly, humans, to make sure that the conversation starts to change. There needs to be a monumental shift. We need to start believing and supporting survivors, because whether you realize it or not, they’re here. They could be the person you sit next to in history class, they could be your roommate. They could be anyone.”
I knew the statistics; I knew the warning signs. I knew what to do and what not to do.
Because I was so knowledgeable about all of this, I knew I could stop something from happening if I was ever in that position, until I couldn’t.
I never thought something terrible would happen to me, until it did.
When I was speaking at this event, I was just someone who had a passion for bringing awareness to an issue too often shut down and silenced.
One year later, I never expected to be a part of one of those statistics.
___________________________________________________________________
April 7, 2017.
A day I want so badly to forget, but will always remember.
The night started out in my apartment, then moved down the hall to my friends’ apartment, then to Hampden-Sydney College. This was not my usual move on the weekend… in fact, I could count on one hand the amount of times I had ever been to a H-SC party.
But Greek Week at H-SC is something that has always been absolutely raved about. I thought I should check it out, at least once.
We arrived on their campus and began making rounds at different parties in the circle. I was not familiar with the different fraternities or houses so I just tagged along behind my friends. We moved from house to house, and eventually ended up talking on the grass outside of a fraternity I’d never been to before.
I was offered an unopened beer and saw nothing wrong with accepting it. It wasn’t a twist off bottle and I didn’t have a bottle opener on me at the time. The guy who offered me the beer saw I was having trouble getting it open so he called over one of his friends who had one. I handed over the beer, he went behind me, opened the beer, came around the other side of me, and handed it back.
I took a sip and that’s the last thing I remember. I don’t even remember leaving the yard where we had all been standing.
Although I do not remember details or much of what happened that night, I am certain that terrible, awful things occurred. Things that have flipped my life upside down. Things that I would never wish on anyone, not even my worst enemy.
I was raped. I was drugged and raped.
___________________________________________________________________
This was after all of my involvement. This was after I knew the prevalence of sexual assault on college campuses. This was after I knew that it was never the survivors fault — but why did I still think it was?
Why did I let myself become vulnerable?
Why did I accept that beer and let someone else take it away and open it for me?
I knew better than that.
It was and still is incredibly easy to sink into that mindset, but in reality, the only thing that could have stopped that from happening to me was the person who did it.
All of the knowledge in the world could not have saved me that night.
The reason that I am telling my story now, one year later, is because I have found that my silence is only contributing to the larger issue at hand. ___________________________________________________________________
At some point in the night, in one of my very brief moments of consciousness, I very clearly remember thinking to myself, “This is it. You’re going to die tonight.”
It is very possible that I would not be here if it weren’t for the people that helped me that night.
I was left on the corner of a porch behind a grill.
Someone spotted me and came over the see if I was alright. When it became very obvious that I was not, this guy called over two of this other buddies and began to help me. They used my thumb print to get into my phone and call the last person I had texted.
They somehow managed to get me up and carry me about three football fields away so I could get to my friend’s car. I was not able to walk, talk, lift my arms… anything.
When they got me in the car, I could not sit up by myself, so one of the guys, without hesitation, jumped into the car and held me up all the way back to my apartment.
By the skin of my teeth, I made it through that night, but so many often do not.
I was a lucky one.
What happened to me was not lucky, but the fact that I am here able to share, is indeed.
A quote that I love and have held very dear reads, “it’s important that we share our experiences with other people. Your story will heal you and your story will heal somebody else. When you tell your story, you free yourself and give other people permission to acknowledge their own story.”
No one likes being uncomfortable, but if I have to make myself vulnerable and completely uncomfortable, I will do it time and time again. As I said before, my goal is to help others by bringing these conversations to light. If I inspire just one person by sharing my story, this is all worth it.
___________________________________________________________________
April 2018.
One year later, I am still here. I am alive. Is my life the same as it was a year ago? Absolutely not. Would I change it all? Probably not. I truly believe that everything does happen for a reason.
While I could have never imagined this happening, I can honestly say that I would not be where I am without this experience. I have gained so much grit, determination, and strength from going through what I’ve been through.
It’s been a real struggle at times, but with my unwavering support system, I know that there is life beyond this, and that I am fortunate enough to be here, alive, telling my story.
Some will ask why. Some will not understand. Some will never understand. The majority will.
This isn’t a new thing. This has been happening for centuries. Why are we ignoring it? Why are we as a society continually disbelieving survivors? Why?This needs to change.
I am not looking for sympathy. I am looking for change.
I don’t know who did this to me. I probably never will.
But I do know, that I want to stop this from happening again. I want this to be a thing of the past. It NEEDS to be.
___________________________________________________________________
I have never been more confident in my decision to dedicate my life to believing, supporting, and validating survivors of sexual violence.
A day I want so badly to forget, but will always need to remember.
This is my fuel.
“Don’t expect to make a difference unless you speak up for yourself.”