What you need to know Allison Hart
2015
Introduction In midseptember 2014 I was sexually assaulted in someone else’s room on a friday night. At the same time, hours away, a close friend of mine went momentarily missing in a way that prompted those she’d been with to call me and see if I had heard anything despite our difference in location. My attacker took advantage of the vulnerability that seeped out when I relayed the situation. “No matter what, I’ll be here for you.” He brushed against my leg. I received word that my friend had been found and I went to the bathroom. I felt sick but went back into his room and sat on the edge of the bed. This was my first real attempt at dating after a year and a half, a time during which i dealt with the the emotional ramifications of a relationship that was toxic on a good day. There I was, finally ready to open up again, but still a little hesitant. He wasn't that cute and I figured it wouldn’t be serious; we’d go out a few times and I’d get a feel for what it would be like to be wanted by a normal person. He was geeky and funny. It seemed like a safe bet. I told him I didn’t want to do anything but make out. He disregarded that request and did what in his mind would make him a good guy but in actuality made hi m a rapist who would prove to be impossible to prosecute. I have grappled with what happened during those few hours for every day since. The shame and selfdoubt our society encourages in rape victims has kept me from being able to vocalize many of my frustrations and feelings to those closest to me, even those of whom have had similar experiences. I don’t know how to get better, or if the very idea is absurd. this is by no means an attempt to “fix it” or even to give voice to every aspect of the experience. Just, hopefully, a way to access my own feelings and connect with those who share them.
On Reporting July 2015 In April I tried to tell my rapist what he did and why I didn’t report him. It went about as well as one might expect. I went back to my apartment and laid in my roommate’s bed while she got ready for work, feeling entirely like I had given him the easy way out. For some reason the phrase “I don’t want to ruin his life” has played a big part in my thinking surrounding the event. I’ve rationalized hesitancy to bring up official charges; “The process would be exhausting, I don’t think he meant to do it, I've already told so many people, I wouldn’t get a fair ruling anyway, etc.” In some respects, I stand by this decision. I firmly believe that had I brought the incident to an intercollege disciplinary board, the most he would’ve gotten would be probation or suspension, which, in my eyes, does nothing to actually help. I would’ve had to verbally recount the incident to upwards of a dozen people (something I can’t even do one on one) while sitting in the same room as him. My college has a recorded history of doling out measly punishments to cases where the assault was “nonpenetrative.” In fact, in one similar case from the past year, the perpetrator was given “disciplinary probation,” the same punishment given to those caught underage drinking. The student in question may not become an officer of any club or hold a position in the student senate. The probationary period lasts one year and if they are caught violating school policy during that time they will be suspended for a semester. Other than that, there are no real consequences. The student may waltz around campus as they wish and continue their education. So, frankly, why would I try? On the other hand though, I don’t think I’ll ever stop being angry that he got away with it and might keep doing so. I’ve tried to tell every woman I know who knows him, but it seems like it’ll never be enough. I can’t actually stop it. The assertion that I could stop him goes right back to the idea that women are responsible for any act of violence perpetrated against them. Intellectually, I know that it’s utter bullshit, but the inability to rationalize is just so darn persistent. I was recently discussing this with a friend and fellow victim of assault. I told her about confronting him, how he asserted that I had “thanked” him afterwards, how he claimed that if I really knew him I would know he wasn’t really capable of such an act. How it felt
like I should’ve done more. “It’s always going to feel like that, though,” she said “I didn’t confront my rapist. To me, you did what I wanted to.” It struck me then that she was completely right (as she always seems to be). Here I was, the victim of an attack, putting myself at fault for potentially endangering the lives of other people when, really, any further assaults are no one’s fault but his. Why do we so strongly emphasize the idea of partial guilt in the victims of an attack? Even the strongest, most intellectual, criticallythinking person can completely break down and buy into these cultural narratives. Surely it goes back to ageold notions of purity and promiscuity, but in 2015 the routine is getting a little tired.
on being a “victim” or being a “survivor”
June 2015
It’s really hard for me to label myself a “rape survivor” or an “abuse survivor” because to me it means I have to be strong all the time. I have to report my abusers, make their names known, burn down everything in my path and reclaim my sexuality and happiness. Mostly, It makes it seem like this struggle is a past tense one. While I don’t want others to see me as a victim of trauma and nothing more, it bothers me that just like everything else a woman is supposed to be (if I am even a woman), I have to heal quickly and act to protect others first and foremost. While I do aim in my activism to help others who’ve experienced sexual assault, I still have to live with what happened to me. It hasn’t even been a year. I still feel crazy. I still feel closedoff. I fear everything and everyone that threatens me even vaguely. I am surviving at a base level, sure, but i’m in such a dark place. I’m sure this experience isn’t just limited to me, either. To me, “survivor” implies a finished product, one who has processed and unpacked and healed to completion. I just don’t connect with that idea. I think it’s somewhat healthy for me to think “this rape happened TO me, not because of a personal choice I made.”I have an insane amount of guilt still, and sometimes the thought that I have been made a victim by certain persons is comforting. It helps me feel like I’m not crazy. like I didn’t choose to do this to myself. I understand that there’s an appearance of agency to calling oneself a survivor, and that we as a culture need to stop the romanticism of popular rape victim narratives, but should we really start by singling out those abused? Dictating the way someone reacts to and deals with their own trauma is just another form of oppression.
“Damaged Goods” June 2015 This whole notion of being “damaged goods” is really getting to me. It’s amazing to see how much i’ve internalized having grown up in a world where rape means ruined. Last night I couldn’t stop thinking about it. I tried to imagine resting my head on my partner’s chest and I immediately thought of him. I imagined scenario after scenario where I would be triggered, midsex, and have to stop and cry and talk about the whole thing. I imagined myself asking “How could you want to be with me” and was surprised to realize that it was something I actually wondered. I ache to say this in these moments. I’m afraid of opening up because I don’t want to bum anyone out or scare them away with my trauma and yet I feel have to talk about it all the time. How do I tell people that I don’t want to wear dresses in public because when it happened I was wearing my favorite? How do I tell my partner not to call me “baby,” not to wear white polos or drink kraken rum, without feeling so ashamed? Without feeling like I’m being a burden? Thinking about his greasy hair makes me sick but only because I know I touched it.
Healing September 2015 I’ve officially reached the anniversary of my rape and I’m feeling almost suspiciously good. A few days ago I felt my partner’s weight on top of me and almost seized up. “It’s ok,” I thought to myself. “All sex is going to feel like this.” But instead of triggering, instead of reverting to a passive state, I relaxed. Resigning myself to this dull and subtle doom somehow allowed me to break past it. I felt joy and love with my partner. It was enough and it was more than enough.
Looking forward At the end of the day, I still have a lot of hope for myself and I think this is what keeps saving me. I don’t expect to fully erase the event or “get over it,” but I know that one day I’ll be calmer and more ready to speak about it. To those with similar experiences; please have patience and know that not every day is going to be a bad one. If you think you or someone you know may have been sexually assaulted you can contact the Rape Abuse and Incest National Network online hotline at www.hotline.rainn.org or call 18006564673.
A Note of Thanks To Andrew, for fighting for my safety when you didn’t have to. To Theodora, for your indignation and humor, for helping me realize why I felt so strange. To Isabella, and Sebastian, for loving unconditionally and protecting always. To Allee and Angela, for holding me the fuck down and making me feel like I didn’t have to be powerful and I didn’t have to be weak, I just had to keep moving forward. To Ian, for the constant inspiration To Tom, for giving me hope To my family, for the support and love I feel so grateful to have. We are all healing and growing every day.