No, you don’t have to “spell it out” for me.
The most frustrating thing I have ever heard a “man” utter to me.
“Do I have to spell it out for you?” he asked.
Did he really just say that? Thoughts were racing across my mind, not even bothering to take the time to pace themselves. I couldn’t even feel the hand planted on my ass that didn’t belong to me, myself, or I.
I mean, he really had the audacity to ask.
Is that bad?
No…
Are you really sure about that?
No.
The impatient tone was something I would have much rather not have dealt with at all, looking back on that cold January night nearly two years ago. The 22-year-old present-day me still shivers from this memory.
But, he really had to ask? After he had already touched and violated me as it was? But, more importantly, how do I answer his question and tell him this isn’t what I wanted? One of the main thoughts that still cycles through my head is why is he even bothering to ask anything at all?
I just thought…
We were friends.
Radio silence.
At least on my end of things.
At times, I still wonder why this incident happened. I was not really wearing anything that was nearly as provocative underneath my black winter coat. I only had on leggings, brown boots and a long-sleeved athletic t-shirt. What I was wearing wasn’t something to force me into bed with him either.
I blacked out most of this memory, hoping to never share it with the light of day. But, I still feel incredibly affected by the actions that were forced onto me by someone I knew. Someone I trusted. Someone I considered a friend. Someone, I was going to consider a “more than a friend.”
There is something I wish I really had the power to say at that moment. Something I wish more than anything in the world:
“No, you don’t have to ‘spell out’ what you’re about to do to me. But, perhaps I should probably be the one to spell it out for you. (Rape? Sexual Assault?) And, no, you’re never going to get close to touching me again after tonight. Or ever have to offer to spell things out for me again.”
I would have said that with gusto.
But, I’m sure there are plenty more regrets I’m am bound or already have had in my life regarding the “I could have said this” or “I could have said that”. As I said, there are plenty of things I could think of saying now but were nowhere near my mind or the tip of my tongue at the particular moment. And, sometimes, that still frustrates me.
The only thing that frustrated anyone, including myself, during this particular situation most was my silence. He stopped, completely withdrew, and chose to blame me for the lack of pleasure he was going to have that night. What could have been rape, was only going to end at sexual assault. He finally withdrew his hand that was refusing to pay rent under the waistband of my leggings. I was free to leave.
My silence was something that ironically saved me that night. However, I know that my lack of speaking up would have put me in much more danger in a similar situation with another “man.” But, at the moment, my silence saved me from the embarrassment of saying “no” or “stop.”
However, that wouldn’t change the fact that he would ambush me later that week in the middle of campus, asking why I was avoiding him.
Again…
Radio silence.
Still only on my end of things.
But, did he really deserve an explanation?
NO.
He had already picked up on the fact that I wasn’t very receptive to his touches or kisses. Hadn’t he?
Obviously not…
So, in the grand scheme of things, my silence was still putting me in danger. A verbal ambush in the following days after his unwanted physical advances was still aggressive. If not more. The gaslighting and manipulation that may have been a bit too unclear to call out in a couple of nights before were slapping me across the face now.
The impending doom that I was facing by still remaining silent, now not wanting to make a scene in the middle of broad daylight in the middle of campus, was still quite catastrophic. My silence was my version of putting up a defensive effort; it just was not a very effective one. But, it was all I could think of doing when it came to giving him something he didn’t want after what he did to me. My own silent revenge.
And, there are plenty of other things I could think of saying to him now in the aftermath conversation too, but listing either of those thoughts or words won’t change anything now. Especially since he said he couldn’t do “this” anymore because of my “silence in bed that one night.”
I’m still silent, for the most part. At least regarding this story in my past. I mostly had been embarrassed that I wasn’t able to “be brave” and say “no”. I was also embarrassed about saying “no” in general. I mostly felt like I had to please him and sacrifice what I wanted for myself in order to do that.
I don’t know why I felt so embarrassed to say anything. It might have something to do with the fact that he already seemed angry, as it was when I entered his dorm room earlier that night. It might have to do with sexual stereotypes circling around my head that “women must always please men.” He might have thought that the “I love you” he told me after only two weeks of merely “hanging out like a couple” would have led to what he wanted.
Now, that’s manipulative.
“You’re not a victim for sharing your story. You are a survivor setting the world on fire with your truth. And you never know who needs your light, your warmth, and raging courage” — Alex Elle
This quote really spoke to me before I started writing my story. While there are many people who may or may not relate to this story, I find comfort in the fact that this could potentially be the story that someone needed to know.
Since sharing my story with a select few people and professionals in my life, I learned that speaking up is nothing to be embarrassed about. My speaking up happens to be nearly two years after the event when I happen to be no longer embarrassed.
I no longer feel ashamed for “spelling out” what I don’t want in my relationships. Not only when it comes to sex, but also when it comes to minor bumps in the road during disagreements with the people I consider friends or “more than friends.”
My growth and learning how to communicate is still something I am learning to be more consistent with. But, the experiences I have behind me and the power I can hold in learning how to stand up for myself now will only begin to help me practice self-advocation in the future.
I hope this is something that could benefit someone out there someday. Taking two years to speak up to a therapist about this night, a trusted parent, my current boyfriend was, in my opinion, just the right amount of time. Silence, in fact, can be dangerous or deadly, and your words have more power than you would ever know. This has been a journey that has been mostly self-navigated with my confusion on how to speak out and tell others about my story, but I know even more than I did before that I have a bunch of family, friends, professionals and even a healthier relationship with a “more than a friend” who is more understanding and foster an environment for me to speak up in.
However, it is best to illustrate that this moment resulted in the death of the “silent girl” in my life. Now, I am able to celebrate using my voice so I am more able to advocate my various wants and desires, and the things or touches that are less than desirable to me.
