No ALWAYS Means No

I've been wanting to write about this topic for a long time, especially since the Brock Turner story broke.  I've just been so afraid.  One of the most compelling arguments I have for sharing this story is because I have a voice in my head reminding me that I tell others to speak their minds, even if their voices shake, so I'm going to try to do the same.  Still, I'm very nervous so bear with me.

When I started school at Ohio State I was forced to sit through a seminar for all new students (both male and female).  I'm not sure what the actual title was but it might as well be "How Not To Get Raped: A Woman's Responsibility."  The lecturer started off by addressing anyone in the audience (roughly 200 students give or take) who had ever been a victim of abuse or sexual assault.  She said, 'whatever you did then, you did right because you are here today.  You are a survivor."  Then she went on to speak for over an hour about the types of clothing girls should and should not wear whenever they leave the 'safety' of the dorms.  She reminded students to be responsible when drinking and not to overindulge.  She talked about the buddy system and never being alone.  Not once, not one single time in over an hour, did she say, 'Oh, and you guys out there, try not to rape anyone.'  Because apparently it's up to the woman whether she ends up getting raped or not.

I'll admit, I have a lot of low-cut clothing, dresses in particular.  This isn't entirely my fault.  At some point in the past all the clothing manufacturers got together and agreed that fat girls want to show off their boobs.  Yes, us thick girls DO tend to have bigger breasts, but that doesn't mean we want them constantly emphasized.  I have very pretty eyes and I'm proud of my toned calves.  I also have a sharp mind and a quick wit.  I'd prefer to let those assets do the talking.  Unfortunately I'm an accountant, not a designer, so I don't get to decide what clothing gets produced.  So my only fashion choices are low-cut or 'Mormon prairie dress'.  The important thing here is that, regardless of which option I choose, I'm choosing it because of how I feel wearing it, not because I want you to have easy access.

A few years ago I got invited to a bachelorette party.  There were 15 or 20 of us (it was a very big group) so we inevitably got separated from time to time, but we always made sure to be back at the party bus at an agreed upon time to proceed to the next venue.  After a few hours of bar hopping my ears were ringing so I slipped out of the club to grab a smoke and clear my head.  That's when I met him.  I don't know his name.  To be honest, I don't know if we even exchanged names.  I do know that there was some flirting leading to some serious kissing.  Yes, I was wearing a low-cut dress.  Yes, I had been drinking.  No, I didn't take another one of the girls with me when I ducked outside.  I didn't follow any of the 'How Not To Get Raped' rules.  He kissed me and I kissed him back.

Everything was cool right up until he put his hand in my dress and grabbed by breast.  I pulled his hand away, still kissing, and put it on my waist.  But he tried it again, somewhat more insistently.  This time I pulled away completely.  I said no.  He grabbed my wrist and pulled me back at which point I shoved him and yelled NO.  He grabbed the back of my neck and yelled into my ear that I shouldn't put them (i.e. my breasts) on display if they're not for sale.  Then he put out his cigarette on my breast and walked away.

They say that humans have 2 fear responses; fight or flight, but that's incorrect.  There's also 'freeze'.  I don't know how long I stood there.  It took a while before I knew what had just happened.  I don't remember feeling any pain from the burn.  I just stood there.  Frozen.  Until one of the girls grabbed my arm and told me we were heading back to the bus. By then he was long gone.

I didn't tell anyone for a long time.  I felt responsible.  I was in my 30's so I should have known better.  I didn't follow any of the girl code.  I was ashamed.  There was no way I was going to press charges.  I didn't even know the guy's name.  The police would just look at me like a common whore.  Eventually my therapist convinced me to talk to my friends about it.  So I chose one of my closest friends and told her.  First she asked me to prove it.  Then she said, 'So you're what?  Looking for sympathy?'  Well...yeah...a little.  Isn't that what friends are supposed to do for each other?  Being shamed by your friend feels even worse than the assault itself.  It robs you of the tentative shred  of security that you're clinging to.  You feel like maybe you did deserve it and you become a victim all over again.

A lot has happened in my life over the past several years.  Actually, most of the growth I've experienced has come in the past year.  I've taken back my identity.  I've learned to appreciate my beauty.  I value myself.  I value the people in my life and my relationships.  I have far fewer friends now than I did in the past, but the ones I've kept are the ones who would never ask me to prove whether or not I was assaulted.  I've learned that sexual assault comes in many forms and measures.  I know that nothing I ever do or say will ever give someone domain over my body.

I'm grateful that I wasn't raped that night.  Things could have turned out much worse.  Still, I was assaulted and it broke me for a good length of time.  But I reached a point where I knew I needed help.  As ashamed as I was, I asked for help and I received help.  I wish that for every woman.  I wish every woman has the courage to speak up for herself, her friends, her sisters and her daughters.  I wish our educational and governmental institutions would stop insisting on telling women not to get raped and instead focus their energy on keeping men from being rapists.  Thinking back on that lecture at OSU, I can say unequivocally that I agree with the speaker on one point - anyone who survives assault did the right thing.  They survived.  And I wish that for everyone.