Personal Story

Photo by Anne-Sophie Henrich, Photo of a model

Speaking of following a dark path of sensuality and violence

I found myself at a party, the flat of a close friend

A couple of drinks were on me, but I believed at the time that it was another way of releasing my dancing moves and my stress.

At a certain point of the night, I found myself dancing with a guy or what I would like to call “a friend of a friend”. One will expect that given the fact that we were studying an MA in an International university, respect and understanding would be a common value for us. Well, at the end not even a Master degree in Sociology can teach people how to respect the others and mostly women. Anyways, I was thrilled by the idea of meeting and kissing a new person. Unfortunately, I wish has told me about the fact that the alcohol was too dense on my blood and my mind, but nobody said anything… I just became an easy dam for the hunter.

On that evening, I followed his blue eyes and blonde hair to the sixth floor of our dorm. I wasn’t afraid at the moment, nothing bad was going to happen, he seemed like a nice person. Whenever I recall what was about to happen, I feel a sting on my body and my heart, these things are not easy to forget, just to abide them.

I entered his room, I remember a night lamp on the side of the bed. There I was lying in a bed without clothes and with a man that was heavier than me on top. I wish I could say that he was whispering lovely words to my ears, but the reality happened to be more obscure. He was acting like a sex driven monster, worrying about not having a proper erection and with the need to re assure himself his own manhood by telling me how good was performing, by performing pain on my body.

At that moment, I was feeling numb and dizzy, what could I do? I didn’t feel anything, I was feeling alone and helpless. The only action that helped to snap out of my own trance, of my own vulnerability, was to notice that a condom was lying in the ground. I realized with great anger, that he wasn’t using the condom and probably was planning to finish at any cost inside me.

I started to cry and yell at him

why would you do this to me?

Do you care about pregnancy or STD?

The fierce man became a child, he started to beg for compassion.

To whom the compassion belongs to?

The aggressor became a victim

All of the sudden, the victim became the aggressor. Just because she was demanding justice.

If I had more strength I would have slapped him.

Who was going to pay for the pill? Who was going to pay for the tests?


Always me, carrying away the guilt of the crime.

Because he just washed his actions by saying “sorry, it wasn’t my intention”

“sorry, it was the alcohol”

“sorry, I’m insecure and I cannot have a proper erection while using a condom”

There wasn’t anything honest and sincere about this apology, he was justifying himself and his actions because he is a man and sadly they can do whatever they want. There is no responsibility about the inflicted bodies they hurt.

Is this person going to consider the disgust I felt when I was taking a shower?

How I washed my vagina with such despair because I felt the filth that was left on it?

How I cried afterwards?

The dreams I had about it?

The vulnerability of being a woman and not being able to have fun because the predator is always around the corner? Have you considered this?

I never spoke to this person after the incident, I just wrote to him that I will forgive him because I wanted to show him that in this world there is still kindness. That he should learn that he is a piece of scum and I hoped that this experience has thought him how act in a world where people don’t take into consideration the presence of the “other”. An “other” that also feels and has dreams, that cries, that feels rage, that loves and most important that is strong.

At the end, nobody explains you how to act around this people. My mother never mentioned or even tried to explain that these types of situation can happen to anyone, I wonder often If she was part of something like that. Probably, she also experienced something similar. I can imagine her at the age of 21, during the decade of the 80’s. Was there someone there to listen to her? I just wish someone would have talked about this to me before.


The concept of the “Not Alone” page is for survivors of sexual assault to tell their stories ANONYMOUSLY. Share your story on this safe platform as part of the healing process and as a way to express your feelings & show others that they are NOT ALONE.

Nonviolence International NY

Written by

NonvioleceNY works to build a nonviolent and peaceful world.



The concept of the “Not Alone” page is for survivors of sexual assault to tell their stories ANONYMOUSLY. Share your story on this safe platform as part of the healing process and as a way to express your feelings & show others that they are NOT ALONE.

Welcome to a place where words matter. On Medium, smart voices and original ideas take center stage - with no ads in sight. Watch
Follow all the topics you care about, and we’ll deliver the best stories for you to your homepage and inbox. Explore
Get unlimited access to the best stories on Medium — and support writers while you’re at it. Just $5/month. Upgrade