Shhh…You’re Making Everyone Uncomfortable
The Silencing Of Trauma Victims
We’ve become so desensitized that we trivialize tragedy and trauma on a regular basis. Yesterday, this happened. It sparked a conversation that lasted hours. Rape culture is something that is taboo but I think the more it’s discussed the more people understand the problem.
The conversation began with an ad for Slut Walk. Young people began shaming the women in the ad, calling them whores, sluts and bitches and even saying that being dressed “like a slut” warrants them to be attacked. There were statements that suggested you have to earn respect in order to not become a victim. I was truly appalled. Every time I think humanity has reached their limit of shitty-ness, they come through and amaze me with new levels of lowness.
Slut Walk is a rallying protest that consists of workshops, marches and speeches. It was born in 2011 from a law enforcement officer in Toronto who told a group of college aged girls: “I’ve been told I’m not supposed to say this — however, women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized.” The organizers of Slut Walk often dress in revealing clothing to send the message that sexual assault doesn’t have a “uniform” and that at no time is there an excuse for a woman to be be raped or sexually assaulted.
There’s often a conversation of what a victim was wearing. I talked a little bit about victim shaming here. It really doesn’t matter what she was wearing since the conversation that took place yesterday included women talking about what they had on when they were assaulted. Okay, let’s play Devil’s advocate. Let’s say you are dressed “like a ho”. What is a ho? Slang says that’s a prostitute. A prostitute is someone who gets paid to have sex. The sex industry is their job and they receive monies for providing the service of sex. So…what part of that warrants a perpetrator to disrespect and violate their bodies? Because a woman is scantily dressed it makes it okay for you to assault her? What about when a woman is in a bathing suit? Dance leotard? Ice skating dress? Those are tight and sometimes revealing. But it’s different right? No. Not it is not. It’s the same. Can I treat you poorly because you have on baggy clothes? Can I treat you like you’re a menace and public nuisance because you’re wearing a fitted cap, t-shirt, icey watch, sneakers and headphones? That wouldn’t be right. You could be a perfectly respectable young person.
(Trigger warning below: sexual assault)
I’ve never written this. And I’ve never told it in a public forum. The first time (yes, first time) I was sexually assaulted I was 16. I had never had sex or engaged in anything with a boy outside of kissing and holding hands. I was a normal teenager. I got good grades, hung out with my friends and was usually home by curfew. One night I slept at a close relatives house on a Saturday. I was in her living room on the sofa. I had on a large Phat Farm t-shirt, baggy sweatpants and a king size comforter. I usually slept on my stomach and I remember turning over because I got hot. When I flipped I brought the comforter with me and I became tucked in really tightly. I continued to sleep and I’m unsure of how much later this happened but I woke up to my relatives boyfriend straddling me. He was very tall and heavy. I couldn’t breathe. I wanted to cry but nothing would come out. It felt like he was sitting on me for hours. He kept thrusting his exposed penis in my face. Ejaculate dripped from it onto my face and neck. I found my voice and screamed out my relative’s name. I thought I was loud. I wasn’t. She didn’t hear me and I just kept whimpering her name. As his knees dug into my arms I cried quietly. She flung open her bedroom door and emerged groggily and he fled into the kitchen. He walked out with a concerned look on his face and said calmly, “What’s wrong, Nik?”. Are you fucking kidding me?
The second time I was sexually assaulted, a friend walked me to my car late at night after the bar closed. He raped me outside of my car in a parking lot in the rain. Why? He said I was “dressed like a ho” and he “could tell” I wanted it. I had on a long sleeved form fitting dress. I screamed. I said no. I begged. I cried. He didn’t care. He slapped me in the face, dug my legs into the gritty asphalt and thrust his body into mine over and over until he decided he was finished. He stood up, zipped up his pants, spit in my face and walked away. I stood up and wiped the blood and saliva from my face. Where the fuck do I go now?
The third time I was sexually assaulted, a friend was driving me home and we stopped at his house. I’d been there countless times and I didn’t feel that day was any different. I used the bathroom. Once I was finished he entered the bathroom and raped me. He offered to take me home as though nothing had happened. When the police came to investigate the very first statement the female officer uttered was, “And THAT’S what you were wearing, ma’am?”. I kept thinking to myself that I should have worn something different. But in hindsight, a dress and heels are perfectly okay to wear to a nightclub. What should a woman wear to a nightclub? Seriously. It was his word against mine. He got off Scot free. I never saw him again.
I felt it was important to tell my story. I don’t want to be a victim of my trauma. I’d like to be stronger. I’d like to see myself as a survivor. I’d like my PTSD to not affect me everyday. I want other survivors to know they aren’t alone and that what happened to them is not their fault. I want apologists and victim-shamers to know that this was not my fault, I did not deserve it and that they are a very large part of the problem.
Maybe more stories need to be told. You need to be uncomfortable. You need to know that it’s not okay to trivialize rape. “My bank is raping me.” is not an okay statement. Rape is ugly. It’s bloody, violent, forceful, harmful, sometimes fatal. Rape is not funny. Rape isn’t always just penis to vagina penetration. Some women are raped with foreign objects. Some women are raped with sharp objects. Some rape result in pregnancy, HIV, STI’s, infections, lacerations, cuts, bruises, scars, serious wounds. And rape is a lot more common than you think it is. Your mother might be a survivor. Your sister. Your daughter. Your girlfriend, wife, husband, son, brother, best friend.
Be mindful.
❤
