Member-only story
It’s using my voice that changes things. That’s all I’ve got. My Voice.
October 14, 2023
After posting the Consent piece, I received some comments that have prompted me to post this piece. It’s a grueling read.
This seems to have happened to all of us at some point in our lives. I was wondering just now if I’m safe from having it happen to me ever again, and the answer is no. Each situation is so unique and so nuanced, it’s so hard to lay down a boundary and be certain I’ve not given mixed messages. There’s such a fine line when things slip from consent to something beyond, when a man says something or touches me in a way that causes that adrenalin rush and I know I’m in danger. It’s happened more than once, looking back. Many times. Always after I spent an inordinate amount of time after trying to explain the event away in my own mind, certain I deserved what happened because of something I said or did — or didn’t. Which is the same thing I did when I was raped by the parole officer. Except I spent four years trying to blame myself for that, and all I came up with was that he had raped me. I couldn’t talk myself out of that truth, not that time. It was undeniable.
To be safe from ever having this happen again, I’d have to never have sex again. But what would that solve? Nothing. It’s using my voice that changes things. That’s all…
