Bee

It has been two years, ten months, and nineteen days.

I am incapable sometimes of even thinking that, because there are days when I refuse to acknowledge it at all. Because of the events surrounding it and the way the few people I chose to tell reacted, for a very, very long time I chose to believe the lie that it was my fault. That I asked for it, and that I deserved or in some way caused what happened.

But tonight, I’m stepping out and saying this.

I did NOT deserve it.

I said no.

I begged.

I cried afterward, stared in shock at the blood and knew, simply knew, that what I had held onto for seventeen years, what I had waited so long to give to someone I loved, had been taken from me. I didn’t know what to do.

After that, it didn’t matter anymore. I was so afraid, so ashamed.

I told, finally told, and the person I chose to tell told me it took two to tango, that if he’d actually raped me, he should be in jail and that I hadn’t done anything about it so obviously I was covering up for the fact that I had just given in to my desires.

My desires?

Up until that point in my life, I had done absolutely NOTHING with a boy. I was as innocent as they come. My clothes had never come off. My guilt had been over trifling, embarrassingly prude encounters with the few boyfriends I’d had before. I had never once wanted that. I was almost afraid of that. I was saving it. I understood and I believed that it wasn’t something I wanted to throw away or willingly hold out to any passerby. I wanted very desperately to have something special, to be in love with the person I gave that precious gift to.

My desire was to keep my clothes on. My desire was for the word ‘no’ to hold meaning, to cause a cease-fire. My desire?

My desire was for someone to believe me when I finally told the truth.

My desire was to be comforted, held while I cried.

My desire was for someone to rescue me from him, for someone to take the shaking, terrified little girl I had become since that horrible day and tell her it was alright. Tell her she didn’t deserve it. Tell her that she deserved to be listened to, that when she said no, she should be believed. When she yelled no, when she cried stop, when she pushed and fought back, that anyone, especially someone who claimed to care about her, should have stopped, should have respected her, should have ended the sick, empty stealing of something that wasn’t ever, ever supposed to be theirs.

Two years, ten months, and nineteen days later, I know that the word I’ve been so afraid to put on it is true. He raped me. I did not ask for it. I did not want it. No means no, stop means stop, fighting back signals panic and any man or boy who cannot respect that and continues anyway will forever wear the title, the banner, the name–rapist.

My heart still breaks when I think of what was taken from me that day. When I remember the people I needed most failing me, not believing that he could have done it. Not comforting me, not taking me to get help, not prosecuting him to the fullest extent of the law. Seventeen, so innocent, so incredibly afraid.

But now, I am a survivor.

I have not been destroyed.

I will not remain silent.

I am strong.

Thanks,
Bee, 19 years old.

####

Bee writes at The Caged Bird Sings.

Thank you for visiting Violence UnSilenced, a speak-out platform for survivors of domestic abuse, sexual assault, and sexual abuse. If you are a survivor and it is safe to do so, we encourage you to share your story here. If you are not a survivor but you want to support those who are, please click around this site and find out more about what you can do.

36 Comments | July 5, 2010 | Filed Under rape

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wiseman08 5 pts

You are so strong. You've dealt with so much. Words fail me as I try to communicate how I feel after reading your story. I hate that this happened to you. I hate that I let myself grow farther from you over the years so that I am only just now reading this... If only one good thing came from this happening...it is that you are who you are today because of everything you have lived through. I always knew you were made of stronger stuff, I just never how tested that strength was exactly. You have always inspired me, Abby. I pray God continues to be with you in everything you do.

Love,
Kaytlin Wiseman

Bee

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