Editor’s note from Queen_George: Recently Harpy reader/commenter ImTheMarigold and I got together for a g-chat on the subject of sexual assault, and how difficult it is for survivors to communicate about their assault, even with their family and friends.
I guess what we’re hoping here is that this chat will raise some discussion about how and why making an assault even semi-public is so fraught with complications. After all, any discussion gets us closer to a solution.
*NOTE: Trigger warning for assault survivors. Although we don’t get graphic, we do each tell the general story about what happened to us.
Queen_George: When I was 22, fresh out of college, I moved from my family’s home in the DEEP South to Los Angeles. It was the first time I’d been that far away from my (fairly) protective parents. I loved it! And I took to it fairly quickly. I made great friends, and I was building a pretty solid life out there. I got my M.A. degree and was searching for jobs. And then, when I was 26, things kind of fell apart. I was date raped by a guy I knew through some of my academic connections. He was a colleague, essentially. I tried for a long time to convince myself that I was fine, that I’d get through it. And I was terrified of telling my family… but not for the reasons that you usually hear. Most of the time when girls are afraid to tell their parents, it’s because they’re worried about shaming or blaming…
ImTheMarigold: I didn’t want to tell either, but for the usual stuff…
Queen_George: And I can completely understand the usual reasons. There are still PLENTY of friends of mine who don’t know, because of the usual reasons. Even my roommate at the time said she had trouble getting over her idea that “rape” = “guy in the bushes with a knife.” In my case, though, with my family, it was because I was afraid that my extremely protective parents would blame themselves, somehow. And that’s what got me to thinking about this topic.
It was probably about two months before I told them. I was trying really hard to keep it together, but one day I was riding the bus to work and I looked down at myself and realized my whole body was shaking. People on the bus were staring at me. And when we got to my stop, I realized I couldn’t get off the bus. I just sat there and rode the whole route, all the way back to my apartment. And I realized that for weeks I’d been having this overwhelming feeling that I wasn’t safe ANYWHERE. When the phone rang at work (I was a marketing assistant, so lots of phone calls), I’d jump 50 feet in the air. I couldn’t handle it anymore. So I called my mom and told her what happened, and told her I needed to come home. Right away.
Did you eventually tell your parents?
ImTheMarigold: My mom first, after I moved home for 6 months from college – allegedly to intern but really to get away. I told my dad once I ended up in the psych ward for a week because I was going to kill myself.
Queen_George: I’m so sorry. It’s amazing how powerful that urge to keep it inside can be. And the idea that “I can handle it. I don’t need help.” Or that you HAVE to handle it without help, because you have no other choice.
ImTheMarigold: [And sometimes people's reactions make you wish you'd kept it inside.] I remember when I was in the hospital and my parents went out to dinner with my former roommate to talk to her about this, and they told her why I was there and her words were “I didn’t know that was still bothering her.” Like, WHAT? For me, when you tell, it’s like giving a piece of yourself away. And you can’t get it back. So if you make a mistake in judgment with that person, they walk away with that part of you forever.
Queen_George: That’s a great way of putting it. When it happens, it’s such a life-changing experience, no matter how you handle it. My mom immediately said, without question, “I’m coming to get you. I’ll drive the car so we can pack all your stuff. I can be there in three days.” She was VERY good about it, way better than I expected. She didn’t blame herself at all, or me, even though she’s the one that I had expected to be self-blaming – like she never should’ve “let me” go away. It turned out that my dad was the one who had trouble. At first, when they came out to California to get me, he was great. He didn’t really address it much directly, but he was a huge help with the moving, and he made me laugh the way he’s always been good at doing. One day after I was home, though, I came into the kitchen and he just started yelling at me. It was about something totally inconsequential – leaving out some dirty dishes or something. A thing that never would’ve bothered him before. My mom said he was just in a mood, but that night he came and knocked on the door to my room and told me how sorry he was. He said, “I’ve just realized… I don’t know how to handle this. I don’t know what to say to you. I can’t make this better. And I don’t know what to do.”
ImTheMarigold: God, is it the worst for you with dad? It is for me. Even now, as I struggle with stuff, every time he sees me he hugs me and his eyes tear up.
Queen_George: Definitely. I have a hard time keeping him in the loop, actually. Even though I know he wants to help… I just can’t handle the fact that I know he sees me as a sort of “marked” person now.
ImTheMarigold: My mom is the one that handles the business when I fall apart; my dad just sits in the background and says he loves me and wishes he knew what to do. I know how much it kills him. That is why I never wanted to tell him. I know something inside him broke when he found out. My mom is just a fortress of strength; if she hurts, I don’t know it. She keeps me as a priority and I’m guessing she just lets it out when she’s alone or at home with my dad.
Queen_George: It’s so interesting to find out that things were the same for you. Because that really reinforces for me the question that always lingers in my head: How are we ever supposed to make progress for rape survivors if the BAD guys are the rapists and the GOOD guys (like our dads) are so overcome by the actual fact of rape – by the reality of it – that they fall apart around it. That’s the thing for me: I realized that my mom, as a woman, seems to have this inherent awareness that rape is something real and tangible that happens to people. But my dad (and my brother, who is 6 years my junior) seemed to be so shocked by the fact that this was something real that happens to actual people. I don’t know what to do about that. And it makes me think we need a lot more survivors who are willing to speak out… but then again, should it really have to be our responsibility to tell Teh Menz: “Hey, are you aware that this happens? And it doesn’t just happen to women you’ve never met. It happens to your daughters, your wives, your friends, your sisters. It happens to actual, living breathing women – not just abstractions.”
ImTheMarigold: Exactly! I think some of it is the image of the stranger in the bushes, and some of it is their inability to recognize us as sexual people. Little sisters, daughters, moms – those people don’t have sex. Honestly, to this day, I have no idea if my sister knows. I never told her and I can’t remember if I gave my parents the OK to tell her. So all the ensuing problems I’ve had get more complicated by that. Do I tell her I’m just ‘sick” when my parents need to drive from NY to DC again because I lost it?
Queen_George: You know, I think in some ways that’s what’s so hard for people like my dad: What they want is for it to be just erased somehow. And you just can’t erase it. It’s always there, and I think sometimes it’s even harder for THEM to accommodate that than it is for me. Like, “I didn’t bring this thing in the house. Who dragged this dirt in?”
ImTheMarigold: And the person you were before is just gone. They can’t accept that you aren’t who they used to know although you still look exactly the same. Like a Cylon version of your old self. Has your family ever lied to other people on your behalf about what happened to you, why you moved back or anything else that might generate questions?
Queen_George: Oh definitely. Almost nobody knows why I came back. Which is sometimes hard because I think a lot of my family members read it as “Maximum FAIL”, like I just couldn’t handle being an adult or out on my own or something. And that makes me angry. But at the same time, I know I don’t have to justify myself to them… so it’s weird.
ImTheMarigold: My parents never told my grandparents. The hospital time, when I have anxiety attacks and they have to come stay with me, I’m just “sick.”
Queen_George: Yeah, I’m “sick” a lot too, or “out of town.”
ImTheMarigold: Makes you feel like a liar.
Queen_George: Right. Even though we don’t OWE anybody the truth. Communication surrounding assault is ALWAYS fraught: you’re damned if you tell, damned if you don’t.
ImTheMarigold: There are always consequences, and you get burned no matter what you do.
Queen_George: Which seems so unfair – it’s another one of those situations where survivors are punished just by virtue of being survivors; being outright honest and having that honesty accepted is so rarely an option; you either become marked or a liar by default.
So I have a question for you about communication. You mentioned a boyfriend. How much do you tell him, and how does he handle it? (I ask because I had one who basically did not handle it at all, and I’m still trying to get a grasp on how to Talk to Dudes or Ladies I’m Dating about the subject).
ImTheMarigold: He knows pretty much everything. If I remember correctly, I told him the whole story the same night we had our first kiss. We met about 1.5 years after the assault, about 6 months after I got out of the hospital. We haven’t ever really talked about what he thinks about it or how he feels about it.
Queen_George: But he lets you talk about it if you need to?
ImTheMarigold: He does, though I really don’t do it very often. It’s weird, but he is almost the last person I’d want to talk about it with.
Queen_George: It’s definitely awkward talking to the person you’re in a relationship with about it. I had that experience too, although it sounds like your guy has been much better about it than my ex.
But yeah, I always felt weird talking to him about it – as though I was putting extra burden on him or asking too much
ImTheMarigold: That, and exposing something really raw and personal. Especially since it could totally change how they see you.
Queen_George: Right. Because you know it’s already kind of changed how you see yourself.
ImTheMarigold: Even though it might help them understand more about the ways you act and communicate in your relationship. Another risk.
Queen_George: That was sort of the problem I had – the way it changed my behavior. My ex and I started dating about 5 months after my assault (probably too soon, I now tell myself). The first night we kissed I told him – much like you did. And he was very understanding, listened to my story and told me he would always be willing to listen if I needed to talk. I was so overcome with the fact that he didn’t shame me or change his view of me. But as we started dating, he had a LOT of trouble understanding that certain actions were just going to be triggers for me. It’s sort of hard to explain. But basically, ironically, he decided to treat me as though nothing had ever happened – which might’ve been what I thought I wanted, but which turned out to be a very bad thing. Because if I wasn’t in the mood or something one night, he’d push a bit. And that was very triggering. It made me sad and angry and frustrated, and I didn’t understand why HE didn’t understand… I don’t know…
ImTheMarigold: Either not wanting to acknowledge your experience or feeling like they are being forced to change who they are…
Queen_George: Right. I mean, he’s probably not a very good example in that he turned out to be not a very sensitive dude in general.
So what I guess we’ve realized here is that it’s hard to talk to ANYONE about this, except others with the same experience.
You know how there’s a lot of conversation in feminism about how a marginalised person IS NOT RESPONSIBLE for teaching or educating the privileged about their experiences? I wish I could get myself to remember that the same could be true for assault victims/survivors. I shouldn’t have to explain myself to people. If I find certain things triggering, or if there are times when I have a panic attack or I just need to cry, I shouldn’t be required to explain or excuse myself. But it doesn’t feel that way. It feels like it’s up to us to educate the whole damn world.
ImTheMarigold: And each person’s experience isn’t representative of survivors as a whole.
Queen_George: Definitely. Like once I was talking to this other girl about her experience, and she kept reminding me over and over that “I said no. I said no.” And we ended up arguing about how even if someone doesn’t outright SAY “no,” that doesn’t mean their experience was any less valid. So we ended up arguing with each other rather than offering the support we so desperately needed.
ImTheMarigold: “Saying no” gets us wrapped up in the legal mumbo jumbo, when at the end of the day all that matters is what we feel happened. And if we feel it was rape, it was. Law be damned.
The law is the last place anyone should look to for vaildation.
Queen_George: Right. So we only have the option of validating each other – which means we really need to listen to one another’s voices.
ImTheMarigold: Which can be hard, only because we’ve struggled to be heard so long that we can shout at each other, without meaning to. And that is something feminism knows something about.
Queen_George: And because patriarchy sort of pits us against each other. It tells us that some of our experiences are more valid than others. If it weren’t for all the shamers out there, I doubt that girl and I ever would have argued, so I think a lot of this really does come back to communication. It’s hard to carve out a space for yourself to tell a story like this.
ImTheMarigold: At the end of the day, it isn’t a story that wants to be heard. It isn’t being told for the benefit of the audience, rather the storyteller. And what is the point of hearing a story if you aren’t getting something out of it yourself?
Queen_George: Oh! That’s a perfect way to put it – that it “isn’t a story that wants to be heard.” I think that brings us around full circle to where we started – with the idea that the story is basically an impossible one to tell. I think we’re made to believe very often that our personal experiences are not valid unless they provide someone else with entertainment or, like you said, some kind of lesson or something.
ImTheMarigold: I just want to be heard.
Queen_George: Me too. I want to be given my chance to tell it, and I often feel like I don’t even get that.
This was really powerful. Thank you both for sharing it. I wonder if either of you read Fugitivus? The author writes about this sort of thing a lot in a way that I find to be really astute and evocative.
The parental dynamics that you describe are familiar to me although I’ve never been assaulted. My father seems to be much more afraid of me getting assaulted than my mother and is always the one giving me safety reminders and so on — was this the case in either of your experiences? I know that to him this is an expression of love and caring about my safety but it makes me feel as if, were I to be assaulted, he would have a lot of difficulty processing it and I would feel somehow as if I’d failed him.
Thanks for this. I was raped 4 years ago and still have not told my parents. I probably never will. For some reason, I just don’t want to cause them the pain of knowing what I went through. And I’m also the pain of being blamed for “getting drunk” and “getting raped” which is basically how my sister saw it the one time I discussed it with her, and have not discussed it since. My husband does know, and was in fact the person who helped me realize (at the time we were dating) that what happened to me, drinking with friends and being raped by an acquaintance, was actually rape and not my fault. Now we’re moving back to my home, and I’m so so so very afraid that I will have to see my rapist as we still have many many friends and acquaintances in common. It gives me panic just to think about seeing him in the grocery store, which is something I had not had to think about in these past 3 years away from home.
Thank you for writing this.
I can’t help but feel a little jealous that you both have families that support you through this.
I was raped at 15, and again at 16 by boyfriends. I told my mom when I was 19 because I was have PTSD. Her one and only response was, “We don’t need to tell your father.”
And we never spoke of it again.
Now I’m really outspoken in the public sphere about being a survivor. I blog about it at http://polimicks.livejournal.com and I still occasionally get people asking me why I “have to talk about it.” “That’s private, why would you tell people that?”
But those are far offset by the “Thank you for letting me know I’m not alone” comments I get by the dozen.
So, I thank you two again for sharing.
That should read “And I’m also afraid…”
“was HAVING PTSD”
I blame last night’s celebrating for the typo.
Also, my husband has been hugely supportive, but he went through several phases. At first he wanted to go hunt down the guys who raped me. Then he was all “walking on eggshells” about it. Now he accepts it as part of who I am, and he’s proud of me for speaking out about it.
Thank you so much for telling your story.
I was anally raped by an ex-boyfriend of mine. I recently told my mom, a year later. I, too, didn’t want to tell her because she had dropped me off at his house that night, and I was scared she would blame herself. But she was amazing. She didn’t blame herself, and she didn’t blame me for being drunk, or any of the things I worried that she would blame me for. Such a weight was lifted off my shoulders.
I write about my rape all the time on my blog. I think it’s important. And the number of women that have emailed me to thank me and to tell their own stories makes it so worth it. I’ve had so many women confide in me, strictly because I had the courage to tell my story.
I think talking about this is so important. We’re not alone, it’s not our fault, and we need to be heard. Thank you both so much for being brave.
Wow, I am so grateful to everyone who is coming forward with a story of their own. Thank you; that is a really brave thing to do. Baraqiel, I have read Fugivitus; I wish I was able to speak as openly and eloquently online about my assault as so many other people are.
I just had my 10 yr suckiversary pass, and I’m finally getting the help I need. I never talk about it with my parents, not since the initial disclosure. We dance around it a lot. Mine occurred when I was drunk at a party in college, so I know the blame game very well. Honestly, there are still days that I have to tell myself that it did happen. That I’m not wrong.
My dad is more of the safety officer in my life, always has been. I chalked it up to being “daddy’s little girl” and hadn’t really thought much beyond that. It has only intensified since the assault, of course.
Funnyface; I moved away for a while, and came back to the location of the assault, and I did see him again on campus. We haven’t spoken since that night. And he was a friend of my roommate’s (at the time) boyfriend. I never told any of that crowd what happened, and within a year that group was entirely cut out of my life. Not that I advise that, just what I did at the time. All I can say is that I have been there and I’m here for you, and anyone else who needs anything.
I’m more likely and willing to talk about my experience and the issue as a whole in the online universe, as it is less risky and complicated than talking about it in real life. I’m sure many of you can attest to that. Again, thanks. Esp to Queen_George.
Thank you both – and to everyone who commented – for having the courage to share. It’s very brave of you and I’m horribly depressed that we live in a culture where these things are still so prevalent.
Thanks for sharing.
I’m interested in your last point, about being heard and telling your story. I’ve never been assaulted, so I don’t “have a story,” but I’ve been the listener for a bunch of people, from people who’ve never told anyone before, and don’t want anyone else to know, to people who almost casually talk about it without dancing around the issue at all (generally close friends and feminists). When someone tells me about their assault, I’m sometimes nervous about my reaction. I want to create a space for them to tell their story, if they want to–to say that they can tell me without feeling like they’re burdening me or something, and definitely won’t be judged (which most people know, I think). But I also don’t want to push someone to talk about it more than they want to, you know? It’s hard, because in my experience, some people want to be asked outright, others don’t want to be asked at all, and want to do it on their own. A student of mine was raped, and she never told me. Her parents emailed a bunch of administrators when she told them, and I was her advisor, but never got the email–her parents sent it to the wrong address. So I got called into my boss’s office, and she was like, “So you got the email, so here’s what’s happening,” and I was basically like, “What are you talking about? who are you talking about?”
My boss forwarded me the letter, I wrote to her parents and met with them and the deans and college counselors and principals and stuff, I emailed her teachers when she missed class for therapy appointments and stuff. But I wasn’t allowed to tell anyone (including her teachers), because her parents wanted it to be confidential. This made me extremely nervous about how to approach it with her. I ended up having a private meeting with her about stuff “in general,” mostly because the thing that ended up bringing her to tell her parents and the school about it (she told a year after it happened) was that the guy’s friends constantly tortured her and bullied her and made fun of her and stuff. So we had a meeting about that, ostensibly. I didn’t want to be like, “So… Asshole Kid raped you…wanna talk about it?” but I also wanted her to know she could talk to me about it. She knew I was sympathetic, because she told her parents that my (constant, ranty) diatribes about sexual harassment during my advisor group’s study halls and morning meetings were part of the reason she finally came forward (proof that ranting about feminism is important and always appropriate). It seemed like saying, “You can come talk to me about anything” was sort of weak, you know? Like, so generic and empty. But any more felt like it might be pushing. She was a quiet and shy 15 year old girl, though, of the artsy variety. So I couldn’t tell if she wanted someone to be more proactive in convincing her that it was ok to talk about it with me, that I wouldn’t judge her or call her a slut or do any of the other horrible things that were happening to her, or if she really didn’t want to talk about it at all because once she came forward she was talking about it all the time (with her therapist, parents, etc). Or something.
So anyway. I was wondering if ya’ll have any thoughts on this issue. When I was 19, my cousin told me about how she was raped, except she didn’t call it rape. I responded by calling it ‘rape,’ which I wouldn’t do now because it’s not really my place to name her experience, though I also think that sometimes people come to me to get “permission” to name what happened to them a Bad Thing. That’s happened to me several times, like when some other student told me about the non-consensual but not-rape-not-really-you-know sex that was happening, and looked hopefully at me and visibly sighed and relaxed when I told her that non-consensual sex IS rape, by definition. So it’s like, when you become known as The Feminist (and they make jokes about you at the school talent show), and all the girls know they can talk to you about shit like this, how much was I supposed to silently listen, how much was I supposed to say something to tell them that what happened wasn’t their fault? When should you just shut up and listen, when should you try to be a mentor–especially when you’re a teacher? A few times girls would tell me stuff and then just look expectantly at me, like I was supposed to say or ask them something, like they knew what they wanted me to say but needed me to say it without them telling me. And everyone needed something different, I imagine, and I couldn’t ever tell what it was I should do. Sometimes I think they wanted me to get angry, sometimes to cry with them, all different reactions.
I know it’s not really something that can be answered except on a case-by-case basis. I’m just wondering if anyone has any thoughts.
I believe that the people who say “why do you talk about it” would like to believe that it doesn’t happen to people everywhere. Which is all the more slap in the face when it happens to them or someone they know. It’s a very real and scary thing.
Thank you for sharing this and best of luck towards healing and everything else in your lives.
My personal opinion on the “why do you want to talk about it” issue (and I am totally biased on this, so forgive if that offends.)is that it comes from a selfish place. The “ew icky uncomfortable don’t want to think about it happening to me” part. Which, while it might have a place, is one of those pieces I like to call the anti-help. I think it’s place is best kept in the mind of the person thinking of it. Because at the end of the day, it isn’t about YOU. It is about the person reaching out.
@Cimorene – I don’t have any answers, but I would like to echo your concerns and questions, as they are questions that I have as well.
Hi, All. Thank you so much for the kind thoughts and the heartfelt comments. It’s wonderful to have places like Harpyness where we can have conversations like this in a safe space. And thanks so much to @TheMarigold for doing this with me!! Just to prove the power of having someone on your side, we didn’t know each other at all before doing this post together, and now I consider her an awesome friend and someone I know I can confide in. And thanks to the Harpies for inviting us to do the post!
I’ve been at work away from comps all day, so I’m a little late to the party, but I’m going to try to address everyone here. (Can you tell from the chat that I’m a bit longwinded??)
@baraqiel: I only just found Fugitivus not long ago, and you’re right about its absolute fabulousness. Harriet is a true inspiration, and because of her and because of Melissa McEwan, who also discusses her assault on Shakesville, I’m fast becoming an outspoken lady on the subject of my particular story.
On the subject of dads: it’s weird, but my situation is actually the opposite of what you describe. My mom was ALWAYS the protective one. When I was a junior in college, there was a serial killer in our town. Once she found out he targeted college kids, she insisted on following my everyday in her car from work to my apartment – or anywhere else I’d go after dark. I had to call her everywhere I went, to let her know I was okay. My dad is very independent-minded and always taught me to be essentially independent above all else. So their reactions were the opposite of what I would’ve expected. My dad still doesn’t try to shelter me, but I do think he took things a lot harder. Whereas what my mom learned is what feminists already know – all the protection in the world can’t necessarily protect you.
@Britni and @GeekGirls: Do y’all mind if I add you to my blogroll over at my blog? I’ve already bookmarked you both on my browser. The more resources there are talking about this topic, the better!
@Cimorene: I’m working on a response to your question, but it’s taking me some time. I’m a former teacher as well as an assault victim, so I feel like I can speak to some of what you’re concerned about. I’ll be back with a response, though.
My heart goes out to everyone who’s had difficulty finding supportive family and/or friends to discuss their assault with. I realize even more now how lucky I am that there were some receptive people in my life, particularly my mother. Just know I’m always willing to hear anyone who needs to talk or write or whatever. In fact, one of my emails is hysterical.george@gmail.com. Y’all are more than welcome to shoot me a line if you need to. I just started keeping a blog where I write about this incident fairly heavily, and I’d also be happy to take input from anybody about assault-related topics that you think need more coverage. (We’re at http://inhysterics.wordpress.com)
Such a great guest post, mamas. Thank you. The part that really stuck out for me was this:
How are we ever supposed to make progress for rape survivors if the BAD guys are the rapists and the GOOD guys (like our dads) are so overcome by the actual fact of rape – by the reality of it – that they fall apart around it?
This isn’t a what about the menz? moment, I swear. The idea that dudes are so easily undone by something that didn’t happen to them, that they have no control over–can’t undo, can “fix”–is kind of shocking to me. I understand that would be frustrating and one would hurt for their female friend/family member, but any guy (not to say either of our guest posters’ dads did this) who falls in on himself in the wake of a sexual assault on someone near and dear is making HER assault about HIM.
@PhDork: I totally, totally agree. And although my dad has been able to (mostly) work through that aspect of his reaction, my ex-boyfriend never quite managed it. It was always, ultimately, about HIM – even to the point where he once said to me, in an unrelated argument where I accused him of being misogynistic, “How can you say that? You know I support women’s issues. I mean, it doesn’t even bother me that you got raped!”
Which, number one: No. Just, no. But also, number 2, it proved to me that his initial “support” of me was more about his own image than it was about any actual support. And that really pissed me off. I think that one of rape culture’s big problems is dudes who are more worried about their images than they are about treating women as humans. (The “liberal” dudes who laughed at Playboy’s “Conservative Women I’d Like to Hate-Fuck” article are a great example of this, as I think you guys have probably pointed out before.)
So yeah, I think guys really need to suck it up and find a way to start dealing with these types of situations – and becoming allies whenever and wherever possible. My dad is now much better at dealing, but because of his initial reaction I’m still less likely to go to him than to my mom. And I think he knows that, and he’s trying to change because of it.
@Queen_George Yes, of course you can!
@PhDork: The idea that dudes are so easily undone by something that didn’t happen to them, that they have no control over–can’t undo, can “fix”–is kind of shocking to me.
I recently had to realize this, and I was shocked, too. My boyfriend and I went to see Precious and he couldn’t handle it. It bothered him for a week. And it was a movie! He doesn’t like hearing me talk about any of the stuff that’s happened to me. Now, I know I’m desensitized to a lot because I’m a therapist that works with battered women. I’ve heard the worst of it, I’ve gotten calls during assaults, and I don’t bat an eye at it anymore.
But, it angers me that he gets so undone about this stuff. I get angry that he doesn’t realize how lucky and privileged he was, growing up in a good home, as a white, heterosexual male that has never had to deal with a lot of the realities that other people do. His ignorance was astounding to me, as I tend to associate with people that run in the same kind of intellectual circles as I do. He’s learning from me, slowly, but I still get very angry when I realize that his ignorance and inability to handle this kind of stuff is probably the norm.
@ Cimorene: I can try to answer at least a few of your questions. Although I don’t mention it in the post, this was actually my second sexual assault. The first occurred when I was 16, and I told absolutely no one until very recently. Part of the reason was that I was unwilling, for a very long time, to classify it as rape. I did not “come out” about it until well after the second rape (the one that I mention in the post), and even then I only came out to (1) a therapist and (2) a close friend. (I haven’t told my parents about it because, well, I don’t know. Because it seems like so long ago? Or maybe because I feel like the two can kind of be blanketed together. Like, they know I was raped. Why do they need to know it happened twice? I’m not sure.) That situation is STILL much harder for me to discuss than the more recent one, and part of it is that it involved much more long-term manipulation and less obvious force than the more recent assault. And I was a teenager; I didn’t trust my own feelings.
So I was a teen with a rape experience. (I’m also a former teacher, for the record. So I understand those feelings too, of not knowing what some kids want or need from you.) And I was shy and quiet about lots of things, much like the girl you mention. And honestly, I don’t know that I could have handled anyone addressing it directly with me. I might’ve exploded. When ImTheMarigold and I first started our chat, one of the things we acknowledged is that both of us, even years after our assaults, still have trouble saying or hearing the word “rape” out loud. In other words, when addressing someone who’s been assaulted, it’s hard to know what will work as a trigger for them. And in that sense I think what you’re doing – letting her know that you’re there for her if she needs you – is the most reasonable course of action. Actually using the word with her or bringing it up unannounced unfortunately risks being triggering or producing an unwanted reaction in her. Especially if she’s already on the shy side.
I also think that your outspokenness on feminist topics around the school is probably pretty helpful to her – even if you aren’t directly aware of how those things affect her. I started really reading feminist blogs like Harpyness and Shakesville right around the time of the Roman Polanski Business – so I came to them at a time when nearly everyone was discussing the idea of “what is rape REALLY?” and it helped me to read the voices of strong women coming out in defense of their sisters, saying “Rape is rape, period. Any type of coercion is rape, period. Any unwanted sex is rape, period.” Those voices meant more to me than any one-on-one conversation I’d ever had. Because these were women standing up in the public sphere decrying the very thing that had happened to me. They didn’t have to say it to me, personally. In fact, I think it helped me more that they were saying it was wrong when it happened to ANYONE. The broad reach of the topic made me feel like part of a community rather than making me feel isolated or singled out – something else that’s a risk of directly addressing a person’s assault with them without their bringing it up first.
Also, you mentioned that she was getting bullied a lot at school by the friends of the rapist, and that you addressed some of that when you talked with her. That’s another thing that I think, in some ways, might help even more than directly addressing the rape. Because you’re showing her that you’ve chosen to stand by HER rather than the bullies. Most teachers – in my experience – have a poor track record when it comes to standing up to bullies. I think the knowledge that you’re on her side must really help her tons, even if you never once bring up the actual rape with her.
On the subject of the students who seem to be asking, wordlessly, for confirmation that what they’ve experienced is rape: it sounds to me like you’re doing the right thing. It sounds like they’re giving you implicit permission to say something to them, and you’re going with your gut and giving them a way to stick up for themselves.
For everyone else who’s wondering in general how to handle it when a friend comes to them with this info: I can only give you my perspective. But in my case, I told what I needed to tell when I was ready, and not a second sooner. So I was most grateful to the people who were just willing to listen. A lot of times, when you want to tell someone your story, you can feel self-indulgent or self-pitying. So knowing that there are people in your life who will listen when you need them to – without judgment – is a big deal. Even if all you do is listen and give a hug, or an encouraging word. Most of the time that’s plenty. Providing reading material is probably okay too. If you know that you personally can’t relate, you can point someone to blogs like Fugitivus. Blogs were a HUGE help for me, and I bet they would be for a lot of other peeps too.
I hope this isn’t too long, y’all. I feel like I’m taking up a LOT of space here.
@Queen_George, I don’t think you’re taking up a lot of space. I tend to get really long winded in comment threads, but when you’re talking about something like sexual assault, it can be hard to get really into it without using a lot of words. This shit is complicated.
Thanks, Cimorene. For the record, simplified, you seem like exactly the sort of person a young girl could use on her side. I’m glad to know you’re out there in the teaching field
Thank you for speaking out. I’ve learned a lot from this post and the comments.
I join the chorus of thank yous for writing this – it’s never easy to talk about, and I especially like the observation about giving away a piece of yourself whenever you disclose to someone new.
As far as opening up to significant others…I’ve gone the full disclosure route, I’ve done the cliff’s notes version… none of the guys had any sense of how to deal, but most were at least understanding when I needed to pull away or got freaked out.
The first guy I dated/slept with afterwards said something extremely triggering while trying to make a joke, and I had a visceral physical reaction – the relationship was never the same after. And he was one of the guys I’d told the whole story to! So I guess from that I’ve learned to take it slow, to let them know at the outset that I may have some hangups and a need to control the pace at which we get physical.
As far as family members go, I’ve only told my parents (mom was awful, dad was quiet but supportive, little bro is Positively Determined Never To Push Women’s Boundaries) and one aunt. I don’t see the rest often enough that they need to know that side of me.
@Queen_George: Feel free. I’m flattered. I’m kind of quiet right now, dealing with family medical issues, but I’ll be posting more soon. I hope.
Thank you both for your bravery in posting this. Something I’ve known in my heart for a long time is that every woman on this planet suffers some sort of assault on her in her lifetime. Maybe you’ve been flashed or groped on a bus or been subjected to unwanted touching at work or by “friends”. Maybe it’s something more serious such as this post describes. But I believe that this is the dirty little secret we all carry with us-somewhere, sometime, someone has violated us and taken our innocence. If men had to deal with what we live with every day, they all would have killed each other long ago.
Thank you for this. I was raped in Las Vegas about a year and a half ago and didn’t tell my parents til six months later, when it kind of just came out.
My dad reacted exactly opposite how I expected. My wonderful, sensitive, feminist dad told me I got myself into a “banal” situation and I shouldn’t have been drinking. That hurt me more than the rape itself ever did. Thankfully I had been deep in feminism by then and I kicked him out of my room and told him exactly what I thought of him.
He came back a few minutes later crying and asking for forgiveness, saying it just hurt him so much he couldn’t handle it. I forgave him, but I still wish I never told my parents (my original plan.) It just became a cycle of me reassuring them that I was okay.
I agree that a lot of men just can’t handle it. Dad for example. My boyfriend is wonderful, but all my friends seems to have blocked it out and some still crack triggering jokes. Part of the reason I think is I didn’t react “enough.” I wasn’t upset enough, I wasn’t a crying mess for weeks or breakdown or anything (not that there’s anything wrong with people who do, but apparently by being composed, it couldn’t really have affected me or mattered…) It drives me nuts when they equate a hard day at work to rape and has helped me come to the realization that a lot of my old (male) college friends just….suck.
@Snarf: That’s a great point about not reacting “enough”… now that I think about it, the WAY that I tell people about my assault seems to be very dependent on how that person sees me. For example, when I told my friends, I was very matter-of-fact about it. But when I told my mom, I sort of broke down. And now, I feel much more comfortable with crying about it in front of my mom than anyone else. It never occurred to me that that might be because of the way I behaved when I first told her, but I bet it does.
[...] And I have feminist blogs to thank for that. Via feminist blogging, I’ve found new friends and allies – women who exhibit bravery in the face of misogyny and abuse. Women (and menz!) [...]
[...] Queen George and ImTheMarigold have shared theirs. [...]