Rotten Tomato
My story of sexual assault.
“So often survivors have had their experience denied, trivialized, or distorted. Writing is an important avenue for healing because it gives you the opportunity to define your reality. You can say: This did happen to me. It was that bad. It was his fault.”
I’ve struggled on when and if I would ever share this. If I decided to share it, I did not want it to come from a place of anger or spite. I want to share this to bring awareness and also healing for myself. Sharing my story is going to help me heal. That does not mean I am not terrified in being so open and to be as real as I am about to get. Vulnerability and I haven’t been friends for quite some time. So here goes nothing.
On December 24, 2018, I was sexually assaulted. I was assaulted at work, after hours, by a man I worked with. I was blacked out. Perhaps drugged? I cannot confirm that. I was incoherent. I have zero recollection of the night except for three events.
- Arriving to the bar and having several drinks.
2. Being in a bathroom stall.
3. Making it home.
What happened to me I could not say yes to in a clear state. I could not say no to in a clear state. I was never passed out but I remember “waking up” with him in my mouth in a dark stall. I still remember this so clearly, what felt like a split second of being sober, my only thought was “he is so hard.” It goes back to black after that. I made it home.
Christmas morning I was sore. As I was washing myself in the shower, I felt where force had been on my body. I knew this was not something I wanted, had asked for, or had the intent of happening when I had a drink with him that night.
After a brief moment of feeling taken advantage of I immediately blamed myself and told myself I asked for this and this was my fault. The man is married with two children. I still blamed myself. That married man with two children was out late at night on Christmas Eve ordering shots for me, himself and another coworker. I kept it to myself for two months. Afraid if I came forward I would lose my job. I would cause “unnecessary” drama at work.
There was really no proof except for camera footage of us at the bar. A witness, who sensed odd behavior, confirmed while we had gone to the bathroom that he was never inside the male restroom. Only confirming he was in the female bathroom assaulting me. I kept my mouth shut because I felt he was more valuable to the company and I was so easily replaceable. He can make an aesthetically pleasing plate, therefore, he held more value than me. What a fool I was to believe that.
During the two months I stayed quiet (I was in denial) it was revealed to me I was not his first victim. He left his last job for the same behavior. Recently I have been in contact with ANOTHER female who has the same story as I. It had happened to her two years prior. Who else has he hurt within those two years?
I stopped blaming myself. At this point I am pissed. Pissed that no one stood up to him. Pissed that he has never been held accountable for his actions. I reported him to HR. I filed a criminal charge against him. He was terminated. But him being fired was really only the beginning of the emotional roller coaster I’ve been on for the past now 7 months.
The rumors and talk began. The workplace became divided.
I was the elephant in the room. I was the “crazy bitch” that made it up. His story was I came on to him and he denied me. The married man that left his phone number on a receipt for me, when he was first hired and then pursued me, was the one that denied me. I was no stranger to his advances. But after telling him he better watch himself because he had more to lose than I did he backed off. He continued his companionship with another coworker. My character and my integrity on telling the truth were and still are questioned.
The man having an affair with a fellow coworker that everyone knew about was not the villain of this story. I was. For sticking up for myself and for the other females he assaulted I am the bad person.
The weight of the stigma that comes from sexual assault was real. Is real. Jokes were made at work. The whole situation was talked about so carelessly and like it was no big deal. I laughed some things off but I will always remember that one second of clarity of being in a dark stall with him inside my mouth. I will always remember that feeling of washing his force off me in the shower. Force I was unable to consent to because I was not in a coherent state to be aware it was happening.
Those moments I don’t laugh off. Those moments I still carry. Those moments I hold close to remind myself I am not a “crazy bitch” I am just a bitch that stood up to a narcissistic piece of shit.
His charge is still in place. I am waiting for the justice system to do their part. I am trying to find myself again. I’m there. I know who I am. I am just trying to be her.
He is gone and in the process of starting his own business again near the Virginia Beach courthouse. I assume he will be successful. And ignorant guests will be served Instagram worthy dishes. For a long time, my focus was his downfall. That is not the answer. It is not Whitney wins and he loses. It is Whitney becomes better because of this.
In time people harvest what they plant. He is a predator, a parasite, a rotten Heirloom tomato. He rots everything he touches. Not me. I have done my part to hold him accountable. As much as I want too I cannot control anything else. Regardless of what happens, I won't let his assault on me be done in vain. After months of being angry and bitter, I have decided I am done feeling that way. I am going to direct my emotions to do something constructive. And that is really what this blog is about. I am not quite sure what that “something constructive” is yet. I am searching and I am going to figure that out. Ill end with this:
Truth is the ultimate power. When it comes around all the lies and ignorance have to run and hide.
You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should’ve behaved better.
