D.W.

This is not something I ever intended to share—especially not on social media—for fear of retaliation from my rapist, judgment from others, and not being believed in my vulnerability.  But the purpose of sharing my story outweighs fear.  

In my sophomore year of college, I was raped.  He was someone I knew, and the last person I would have expected to do that to me.  A few months after he raped me, once I gathered enough courage, I sent him a text. It said that what he did was wrong and that I would report him to the police if he tried to contact me.  Our mutual friend, a guy in my rapist’s fraternity, took it upon himself to “investigate” what happened to determine whether or not my rapist should be expelled from the fraternity. That friend began to contact me, wanting detailed descriptions of what happened.  I had already told him his friend raped me, and I thought that was enough information. Despite this, he repeatedly texted me, called me, and when I did not respond, he used my friends to reach me. There was nowhere I could hide from being constantly reminded of what happened.  When he texted me that my rapist was so upset about the accusations that he was going to kill himself, I broke. A good friend (he was my boyfriend at the time) volunteered to bring my rapist’s friend into his office and speak to him. To this day, I don’t know what they talked about.  All I know is that the constant, aggressive attempt to contact me stopped.  

That was two years ago now.  About a month ago, I ran into one of my rapist’s fraternity brothers at a barbecue.  That’s when I heard him say this: “There was a rumor that _____ raped a girl a couple years ago, but it turns out she just made it up because she didn’t want people to know they hooked up.”  My heart sank. No one believed me. And nothing happened to him. He is still involved in his fraternity, hasn’t lost any friends, and hasn’t fallen in social status. I wish I could tell you that I got over it.  I wish I could tell you that I never replayed that night in my dreams while trying to rest. That for the past two years, while in an intimate setting, I was never reminded of the rape or felt a pain in my vagina in the same way it hurt that night.  I wish I could tell you I was never on edge while alone with even trustworthy men. But I can tell you this: healing is possible. This is the first time that I have written down my story, and the slowly lifting weight off my heart confirms that opening up about it provides healing.  Healing through being vulnerable, healing through speaking up, and most importantly, healing through prayer. I used to hate God. How could a loving God allow such a horrible thing to happen? I turned away from my faith and struggled to make sense of what happened to me. After months of resenting the God who put me through this, nothing was changing.  So I decided to change my prayer. It went from “God, fix this,” to “God, your will be done. I trust you and know you are good.” Before praying this prayer, not a day went by that I wasn’t triggered by something that conjured up resentment, anger and hatred. But after, the Lord lifted all that from my heart. Don’t get me wrong—I still feel angry sometimes.  I still feel shame and guilt for something I couldn’t even control. But once I pray that prayer, the Lord has a way of reminding me how loved and blameless I am. He reminds me that other’s sins against me do not define me. My rape does NOT define ANY part of who I am. Now, through all my suffering, I can still praise the Lord. I may not know God’s entire plan for me, or even how He is working through this specific event, but I do know that it is all for a better, greater future that I cannot even begin to comprehend.  

I hope and pray that by me sharing my experience, those of you who have been through similar things will know you are not alone.  When no one believes you, find someone who will, and let them support you. To Bridget, Emily, and Elan: Thank you for believing me. Thank you for supporting me.  Thank you for walking alongside me in the healing process, and for carrying me through it when I could no longer walk.  

In reference to my fears I mentioned about sharing this: After publicly sharing my story, I may experience retaliation from my rapist.  If he is capable of doing something so monstrous as rape, he is capable of coming after me for this. People may impose judgment on me. You even might judge me: “Well did you fight back?  Did you kick and scream?” “Why would you feel comfortable sharing this?” And maybe, I won’t even be believed. You or someone else reading this might be like the majority and think I am lying, for whatever reason.  All of these things are possible. However, if just one person walks away today feeling a little less alone, with a little less of a heavy heart, with a little more hope, then any retaliation, judgment, and nonbelief will be undeniably worth it. I hope my vulnerability and honesty empowers yours. Your sexual assault does not define you.  It’s not your fault. And it wasn’t okay.

I also hope my story reaches those who have committed sexual assault and those who are friends with the accused.  Know the weight of the impact a single act can have on a person’s entire life. Hold your friends accountable. Believe survivors.  Don’t rape.