Today my 17-year-old sister got on a plane to fly halfway around the world on an all-expenses-paid summer fellowship. I am a big fan of my younger sister--she is the most fantastic person I know and my main support system. She is quite literally the bees knees. It was very difficult to see her depart, mostly because I'm selfish and want to keep her awesome spunkiness to myself.
In a few days, it will be my birthday and I am dreading it... mostly because my dear sister will be far away. This past year was horrific--even though in the back of my mind I know that next year probably couldn't be worse and I should be relieved at the turning of a new leaf, I'm still scared. You see, I am a rising college junior whose second year made the term "sophomore slump" look like a pithy little epithet. Beyond all the insecurity, questioning, and experimentation that goes along with that charming point in a young person's life; beyond a crippling illness, surgery, and family trauma, I was raped.
Before I go on, let me say that this is not intended to be read as the tale of a "poor little rich girl." If all the junk in the world were put in a bag, I would still pick my own set of slightly crappy burdens. What my story is, though, is a tale of turning my experience from a chronicle of personal, private pain into a journey towards communal inspiration and motivation.
I attend an all-women's college that has some of the best resources available for victims of sexual violence. The campus prides itself on its feminist culture; one of the biggest community events is the anti-sexual violence march and speak out called Take Back the Night. Year-round the school it is plastered in banana- and strawberry-laden postcards and signs that proclaim, "Consent is Sexy!" I am the proud owner of many of these postcards. I am active on campus, familiar with our rape crisis center, emergency hotline, and counseling services. I am a proud feminist and have attended workshops on sexual violence prevention and education. I work in sexual education and am known amongst my friends as the go-to-gal for sex gab, and despite all this, in the middle of my second semester I found myself lost, alone, and frightened even amidst all this support. I had been raped by my liberal, "feminist," boyfriend who attended a nearby school. The first people I told about the event said there was nothing I could do, that it was "gray" rape. It wasn't even rape! He wasn't a stranger, was he? I was in bed with him, wasn't I? We had been dating on and off for almost two years, hadn't we? That "yes" I had uttered, after being cajoled and coerced, after saying "no" at least a dozen times, after being woken up from a deep sleep to find him on top of me, that "yes" was my consent, wasn't it? And he was sorry, he sent me a text message later that day which said as much, so I should just carry on my merry way and pretend like nothing had happened, shouldn't I?
So that's what I tried to do. I forgot all about the "assault," and pushed it out of my mind, even when the sex hurt and the relationship soured. I just waited for the numbness to dissipate. A few weeks later, it did, and in its wake came the purest, most virile anger I have ever known. It began when I broke up with him, this time for good. As I walked back to my dorm from his apartment, I felt a rush of pure emotional pain wash over me and for the first time in weeks I flashed back to the morning of the assault and I felt the intense hurt that he had caused me. Suddenly, the sleepless nights and the lack of concentration, the skipped classes and meals made sense. I didn't feel better, but I felt certain that I would not be silent. I could not be, because there were too many people who had been hurt who didn't--and don't--have the ability to speak up. I owed it not just to myself, but to the women in my community to speak out and in doing so, begin the healing process.
In a somewhat convoluted attack of curiosity, I began to read anything I could get my hands on about rape--particularly the feminist community's response to rape. The single most important book I read was "Yes Means Yes!"-- I was inspired. Suddenly, I had words for how I felt and I sensed that I had a real community behind me. I learned that what I had experienced was rape, and there was nothing gray about it. I gradually accepted that. I was enamored with the idea presented in the book of a dual approach to sexual education: prevention of sexual violence and promotion of positive, healthy sexuality. It was a pedagogic message that rang true down to the very depths of my soul. I took this ideal to heart as I began to heal. I am still beginning to heal.
The hardest person to tell throughout all of this has been my younger sister. She is one of my best friends and she is my role model. My sister has the unique ability to see the best in all people and every situation and yet... I didn't want to tell her. I didn't want her to worry about me. I couldn't bear the thought of her thinking less of me. I know now, however, that the most important thing I could have done for both of us was to tell her. You see, my sister is a rising high school senior. When I graduated a few years ago, I didn't know what a clitoris was or how to find it--forget about using it. I thought rape only happened in bushes with a man in dark clothes holding a knife. I owe it to my sister--just like we all owe the next generation of young women--to tell them our stories, even though it isn't easy and it is painful. We must tell them, we must stand up to the rape culture that is so pervasive across America, and we must keep on surviving. It is our duty tell our sisters, blood or not, that they deserve to have consensual sex when they want, how they want, and with whom they want. And they deserve to have it feel good. We must show our sisters that hell hath no fury like an informed, vocal, and active survivor. My sister, our sisters, deserve to love their bodies and love what they can do with them.
My sister is preparing for her college applications: she is writing essays, going on tours, taking SAT's. She knows now that regardless of her cavalcade of vocabulary flash cards, the two most important words she needs in college are "yes" and "no." I know that no matter where my sister ends up, she will be okay. She will party--perhaps too much, and then she will sleep--perhaps too little. But she will dream, and I'll be damned if anyone stands in her way, if anyone keeps her from achieving and living out her wildest dreams. Hangovers, all-nighters, eating a whole pizza by yourself, first loves (or lusts), unbridled passion for learning, zest for life, youthful idealism--these are all parts of being an undergrad. Rape should not be a hallmark of the college experience, but for far too many young women it is.
I want to send my sister off on her next great adventure knowing that she will stumble--it builds character-- but assured that she will rise from her falls stronger, wiser, and only a little bit banged up.
Before my sister got on the plane today, I handed her an album I made full of pictures, notes, and favorite quotations, one of which I'd like to share with you:
"I love to see a young girl go out and grab the world by the lapels. Life's a bitch. You've got to go out and kick ass." --Maya Angelou
Ms. Angelou, I think we--my sister and I--are ready.
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This is one of the most inspiring pieces I've read in a long time. Thanks for telling your story!!
My hugs to you for your experience and my thanks for your inspiring words.
What a team you sisters make!
I'm sorry you had to experience what you did. Your ex boyfriend should be in jail, not still roaming the streets looking for his next victim.
-Nikki-
selling photography 101
extremely motivating, sweet, and well written. awesome quote at the end too. 8]
Wow, your story really resonates with me because I also suffered a "sophomore slump" that included much more than, "Hangovers, all-nighters, eating a whole pizza by yourself, first loves (or lusts), unbridled passion for learning, zest for life, youthful idealism," but rape as well. I'm also a devoted feminist and have struggled with every issue you mentioned. This is truly inspirational, articulate, and right on. Thank you for being so brave.
Thank you all for your support! I can't tell you how much it means to me. Thank you thank you thank you!!
As a fellow survivor of an assault a little over a year ago, and having to see the person in question several times in the week leading up to my recent college graduation and at the ceremony, I'll admit I've been feeling horrible about the situation all over again. But reading this post was very inspiring, and I feel re-motivated to educate and help make positive change out of my negative experience. Thank you so much!