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Coercion, Abuse, and Feeling Alone in My Struggle I’ve been coerced into sex by someone who I thought was a mentor and a leader in human rights. He’s a researcher, a women’s rights defender, and runs a civil service organization. He approached me romantically and coerced me into sex, making me feel trapped and confused. We were in a relationship, but the whole time, I felt pressured and controlled. There were some times I was sick, intoxicated, or under his influence, and he used that to manipulate me. I initially resisted even his kiss,but it felt impossible to escape later days because of his repeated attempts and influences. Looking back, I now realize that what he did was wrong, but at the time, I didn’t understand it fully. What hurts the most is the disbelief and blame I’m facing from others, especially on social media. People don’t understand coercive control and rape, and it feels like no one believes me. He kept reaching out to me online, using me as a sex object, and I’m devastated by how he used me for his own purposes. I feel worthless, like I’ve lost my dignity and self-worth. The trauma, nightmares, and pain are overwhelming. I’m seeing a therapist almost every day to try to make sense of it, but it’s hard to cope when society and the connections he has make me feel so alone. I feel like no one understands what I went through. I don’t know if I can handle this trauma anymore. Advise me what I can do, or I am so tired of being hurt. … Please Name

When I worked for a grocery store one of the mangers a male who was in his 40s began to talk to me and slowly build a friendship with me. This started when I was 19 and I had just moved out of my families house due to a toxic household and I was very lonely . I feel he may have taken advantage of this but I began to have feelings towards him and he began to slowly take things further and further. Until I eventually told him I was uncomfortable he would then back off a bit but he would slowly start reeling me in again and again I feel like such an idiot for falling for it.

Is it considered sexual abuse if I consented? I got sexted when I was 12 but I consented and wasn't forced. He was 17.

Not 100% sure if COCSA, still healing and navigating. I am currently 21, turning 22 later this year. I’ve spent years trying to fully grasp this ever since I was 7 and have only spoken about this with a counsellor from my high school and two other people. I’ve constantly pondered whether it was a case of playing doctor gone wrong or COCSA along with these events having a big bearing on me, I’m in a far better headspace mentally but I still ponder this and still feel I haven’t fully healed so I’m just simply going to share my story from here. So me and my older brother(3 years older) had a pretty standard dynamic of him being “cool” and good at everything per se whilst I was essentially second fiddle and felt like I was in his shadow, very up and down relationship due to me being neurodivergent which neither of us really understood at the time. It started when I was around 6 in which he’d(Age 9-10) randomly start masturbating or rubbing his penis in front of me, I didn’t think much of it at the time as obviously I was 6 and didn’t understand what was going on, we did share showers a few times but that was primarily innocent, eventually in 2009(8 years old now, him 11) as we were moving into a new house, as we were preparing everything, and on the bottom bunk of a newly put together bunk bed, he “invited” me to masturbate him(The words masturbate, etc weren’t used, I don’t remember the exact terminology used but it was about making it “grow bigger”), I remember being complacent which I don’t know why I was, perhaps it was because it was someone I genuinely loved and looked up to, I remember even saying that we’d pretend to talk about something else if we heard anyone come towards the room, I don’t know how long it lasted but I ended up stroking him after the aforementioned stuff of him talking about “making it grow”, etc. I remember at the time enjoying it and it didn’t feel weird, I remember him moaning and telling me not to go too fast, etc, I don’t know how long it was but he didn’t ejaculate from it. After that, nothing really ever happened apart from a few occasions from 2010-2011 in which I’d either see him casually pull out his penis and wiggle it around while lying down and on one occasion rubbing it on my legs when I was 8-9 and he was 11-12. The events in 2009 led to a whole spiel of me discovering and becoming addicted to masturbating myself, I remember feeling increasingly socially awkward as time went by, wondering if this was something normal for siblings, etc. I remember in 2012-2013 masturbating over the handjob from 2009 which in hindsight was a means for me to cope with what had happened and try and have some degree of control over that situation, I would have breakdowns over it and feel disgusted with myself every time I thought about it in retrospect. I had also felt conflicted as I was increasingly breaking down due to my depression developing at this time from various other circumstances as well and an existential crisis essentially, well at least for an 11-12 year old. I remember in my head blaming him for being the reason why I “wasn’t cool”, etc. After primary school and by the time of high school in 2014 I’d come to stuff it in the back of my head, at this time I got into porn and masturbating continued to be a habit from then and many years to come, I remember coming out as asexual and believing I really was at the time from 2014-2016 which part of the reason I’d attribute to all that had happened with me and my brother. I’d have further breakdowns about it in 2015 with my depression escalating and me and my brother arguing much more(I did not bring up anything about all that had happened apart from a “throwaway” remark in which I told him that he “traumatised” me around 2014, our arguments were seperate from this). 2014 was around the time I began to hold bitterness towards him and felt that he was the catalyst for me being who I was, and I hated everything about myself, by 2016 our relationship would begin to improve though. From this point it’d be very on and off until 2019 in which I finally opened up to my high school counsellor(Though in not as much detail as I am sharing here, mostly emphasising the handjob), she said that I had been sexually abused and we’d have sessions in which I’d navigate through it albeit at this time it was very difficult for me to talk about, it was the first time a label was put on it per se and the first time I had a firmer grasp on what had happened, eventually I opened up to my brother about it who had also brought up that he had a bad circle of friends through primary school though never went into any further detail than that and was exposed to a lot of things. So right now, I’m at a point now having done my own extensive research on sexual abuse, CSA, etc, etc where I’m doing far better now but still healing and still navigating everything. So I’m just gonna leave it at that, I know this is extremely long but thanks for listening.

Numb. All I felt was numbness, this blind feeling of constant knives scraping, stabbing, swallowing me whole; the time I felt like this is one I’ll never forget, the time I lost my home. Home. It could be a place, a feeling or, in my case, a person. This person, you may ask, is it a friend? A lover? Or a family member? No, she was my world, she was my light, she was my everything, she was my sister. So, you may be wondering what occurred for me to lose my sister, well she’s not dead if you’re wondering, but rather her nature, her personality, her character is lost to me. The person I grew up looking up to, admiring, my inspiration, my muse. She is dead, and an imposter was born. Looking back is torture, a constant reminder of who betrayed me, but why is the question I will never know the answer to? “It’s a misunderstanding,” that is all it took to shatter me to pieces. From sister to stranger, that’s all that took. Now you maybe wondering ‘that’s it’ a misunderstanding, well it was not…. The night before my sister engraved those words in my brain, my ex-boyfriend assaulted me, he struck down, pinned down and consistently asked ‘but don’t you love me?’ ‘don’t you care?’ Every time I said, “Yes, but not like this!” But why didn’t I escape? I tried with all my might, but I couldn’t. He blocked me at every turn. I tried to go under the bed, sleep on the floor, and use my phone and play games to distract me, but I couldn’t think straight; my mind needed a distraction, needed an escape, but I couldn’t. He watched me like a hawk, waiting for another opportunity to catch its prey. So, as he left the room, he apologised, and his words of ‘I’m sorry that I assaulted you’ and my response of ‘blame it on the Viagra’ will live in my head for eternity. But how does this connect to my sister? Well… I spoke to her on the plane ride home as she sat next to me and opened up to her, and for the first time this year, I thought I had her on my side… But I was wrong. As soon as we had food, we confronted him on the phone, he said, and I will never forget ‘I didn’t know’ on what planet was he living on that he somehow in a span less than a day, he forget that he assaulted someone. Then, the gaslighting begins. He said we had a safe word, and we did, but at the time of the assault, we had broken up, hence ex-boyfriend. But no, that turned the tide, and the numbness of betrayal from him was enough for me to spiral, but no, that’s not all. My darling sister said, ‘that’s it’s all just a misunderstanding’ and it’s a miscommunication, on what planet does “NO, STOP and DON’T’ not define the lack of consent, clearly, I missed that cue. But she chose him. His side, not mine, the one who was assaulted, his: the instigator, the monster, the perpetrator, not me. She has known someone for less than a year and, at that moment, less than 6 months. My world shattered around me, numb from betrayal, numb from heartbreak; all I felt was numb. But that’s not the worst of it, not even close to, oh, you thought the assault and the betrayals were enough, ha not in my life. The car ride home was deafening; the silence outside was quiet, but my mind was a war and storm raging. She told me to ‘forgive’ him even though I don’t so that his mind could be eased that it was all about him and nothing about me. I felt like a pawn on a chess board that I wasn’t the queen I thought I was but merely a peasant at the hands of others to use; no one could prepare me for the betrayal, no one could prepare me for their admission of guilt when they begged me not to take legal action, begged me not to tell anyone. But as time progressed this year my silence spoke louder that most, when people asked if ‘I was okay’ I replied “yeah, just tired, or I’m okay, I’m fine” When in reality. I was losing sleep, nightmare-consuming at every point in time, restless sleep, haunting nights until his demise. To say I was thrilled would be an understatement; I was relieved that I never would have to face him again; the only problem I face is masking my true colours around her. ‘Karma’s a bitch’ and you reap what you sow; he was the death of me, the old me, I have a long way to trust another, mostly to love another, but my progress is there; I’m not a victim, I’m a survivor, I’m not a pawn, I’m a queen because just like phoenixes I rose from the ashes.