How Do You Know It’s Sexual Assault?
Miscommunication. Misunderstanding. All Misnomers for the same damn thing.
A man pulls me to the floor. I let him. I am drunk. I have not eaten more than two granola bars in two days. We are in a well-lit area, the floor of a hotel crowded with twentysomethings, Birthright participants like us. I allow the public arena to convince me we are safe.