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I still don’t know if my abuse counts. I’m pretty sure it doesn’t. Or maybe that’s what I want to think. When I was 10, I was at my (at the time) best friend’s birthday party. I can’t remember much of the party itself, only that I had a white cardigan on. I remember the air smelled likes churros and popcorn. I can’t remember how I got to my friend’s bedroom. I only remember what happened there. The memory starts with me, standing in front of the bed. On the bed was Name, one of my friend’s older brothers. I remember staring at him for I don’t know how long. I think he was talking, but it was all static to me. I remember there was one those party lights things, the ones that project blue, red, and green lights onto the ceiling. Then I remember he starts jumping higher. And then he jumps at me, tackling me onto the ground. I was frozen in terror. And all I did was cry silently. But to this day, I still don’t know if it counts as rape. I was 10, but he was 13. He was only a kid too. Maybe he was also experiencing abuse, and he took it out on me. I also feel like it’s my fault for not doing anything, and not telling anyone. I could have screamed or something, but I just laid there, frozen and silent. I haven’t healed from this at all, probably because I haven’t really talked with anyone about it. I don’t know what to do.

You Are Not Alone You are not alone. So many of us had so much taken from us by people who put pleasing their basal urges over our sanity. For their moments of bliss and dominance we suffer. We blame ourselves for their sickness. THEIR pathology. There is an army of us. That is what these stories teach us. They show us we are legion. We are strong. Our psychological reactions of fear, mistrust, hatred are not crazy. They are normal. It is also normal, but not easy, to climb out the darkness together. I grew up in a large low income black of flats that was like a village. My mum worked and we went about by ourselves. In the winter we were never expected to be seen if we left. We were in some flat mucking about with some kids or neighbor, and it all worked out fine. I did lose my virginity when I was eleven to a friend of my older brother who was in year ten. But that was no bother because it was not uncommon there, sadly. I am half Brazilian on my absent father’s side and was considered quite exotic and fit. My secondary sexual characteristics developed early. I was reasonably careful and in control. True abuse began years later when we moved out to a proper house with HIM. HE was my mom’s dream man. HE was fit for a middle-aged man. By that time my brother wasn’t with us because he took work in Alaska on a fishing boat. HE was ex-Army and seemed like a good man at first. I was a bit of trouble maker and over-cheeky and my mom gave HIM carte blanche to discipline me like father. We weren’t there the length of a full season when HE started treating me like a tart. The spanking part mom knew about and thought it was funny, even with me being fifteen. HE spanked my bare bum even when she was home. She said I’d always needed a man’s hand to block of my rough edges. It was cringe, humiliating, but nothing compared to what HE did when mum was away. Not to get detailed, HE soon got to a point where I was going to get HIS load whenever there was the chance. Since HE got to set my schedule he made sure there were regular chances. It was my HELL and HE was the Prince of Darkness. He was rough but careful not to leave any marks. Unless time was short I had to shower first. Sometimes after there would be something specific sitting out to wear, like a costume or lingerie, or my netball kit. The grating anticipation of what was going to follow was the real torture. HE would tell me to “Pick a hole”. My holes! My foof was one, my mouth was two, and you’d think I would never select three. But you’d be wrong. I hated HIM. I am very sensitive sexually and if I went with one I looked like I loved it and if I chose two I was doing work to please HIM. Three was the way I could shut down and brace myself without him ever seeing me smile, even if I was facing toward him. When I was strong with hatred I would choose three. I compartmentalized that small but brutal part of my life for my mum. If was a mere thirty to one hundred twenty minutes per a week of 10080 minutes. And I saw no other way then. Mum, for the first time was living a happy life. I could have won a BAFTA for how I seemed so cozy and content for her. It gutted me that my fear of upsetting HIM made it appear that HE had smoothed out my rough edges and made me into a proper lady. I kept my marks up and stayed on the netball team in spite of being the shortest. I kept going. I developed a habit of stabbing mechanical pencil tips into my skin and biting my nailbeds to illicit pain. I had one boyfriend for a short time. I went to the dances. Home was my hell so I did everything HE would allow to be anywhere else. I could not work but he made my mum keep her job so he could have me. My birthdays I would get my way of having a just girls’ night out with mum. There were only two birthdays before I got free of him. College cost 1000 pounds and when HE paid it HE did not know I was not going to be his tart anymore. I had a friend with a home much closer to my school. They had spare bedroom because an older sibling had moved out. Being seventeen, HE couldn’t force me to live with them if I had other safe accommodations. I took employment and paid the meager rent. He got me one more time when I was sleeping back at his house on Christmas eve. Probably drugged mum to keep her sleeping. I made sure he never got a chance again. Through my Portuguese class I met a man who lived in Portugal and invited me to come stay with him as long as I wanted rent free. I finished one year of sixth form and went to Portugal. I had fleeting relations with the man I stayed with but he traveled often we both had our own things. I worked at an American-themed restaurant as a server then. I spoke with my mum on the phone most days. She visited once, with HIM. I missed her and tried not to show much of my sorrow about being forced apart from her. Seeing HIM was horrendous, yet I kept it contained inside like a cancer. It helped solidify my decision. I traveled with a friend to Florida and got a job serving in a posh restaurant. I applied for a work VISA and on my second try I got it. I am thirty-eight now. Only three years ago did I confront my demons because I read online stories about other abuse survivors. It opened up a deep wound so I could start to heal. It was and still is hard work and an ongoing process. I confessed to my mum who had split with HIM after years of her own abuse that she also kept hidden. HE had let her go when she started having health problems, showing his true black heart. She lives with my brother and his family. I regret losing years with mum and my brother and being chased away from my home when I was young but it made me stronger. I have never married but I have a loving partner, two dogs and I speak three languages. I am a physical trainer and work near the beach where I go to meditate and body surf. Our journeys and stories are individual but we are in this together. Worldwide. You are not alone in carrying the pain and the shame and the fear and the flashbacks! Even if you are in the dark, start toward a path that looks like others are using to try to climb out. Use the resources, even if just right there on your computer, and build from there. Just start and keep climbing, especially when it seems too hard.

It started as sexual harassment. And I let it happen. Do not let it happen to you! I was a college intern working on my supply-chain management major. In business school you know you don’t just get a degree and POOF! A job is magically waiting for you. Unless you already have connections. I was a single woman on financial aid and had squat for family connections. I needed to make some connections while still in school that I could use to climb the ladder. It is a very competitive world. A time when we don’t care so much where we work as long as it has prospects of advancement and making money. I was interning at the corporate offices for a rental car company. I got my first choice for a class in which we had to intern at a real company. My group of four was in their logistics offices and we had no clear job at the time but my school had sent students for a while so we had a contact person and some loose idea of a project that my group of four had to put together and execute for our grade. Well that was kind of of dud and I went along with the bad idea of planning more efficient distribution routes for their cars entering the fleet. It was naive because the company had real pros who designed the system. But, because of my feminine wiles, I got invited to come in and help in my free time by a top manager. Just me. I jumped at the opportunity and on my available days I showed up early in the morning and tried to be like part of the team. It was a very masculine environment. I tried to hang in spite of the pretenses for my special treatment. “You’re not one of those feminist types who go crying to HR if a man gives you a compliment or a pat on the backside, are you?” The man who first invited me had asked. We’ll call him XX. I assured him I was not, anticipating his expected answer. “Work hard, play hard,” was something I said in my denial of values he was obviously opposed to. So the couple times XX introduced me as his mistress I went along with the joke. Another stupid mistake. As an example of my environment, after a male Y in the department first showed me how to use part of a program that calculates stock outages, he had me sit and try it and gave me a massage I did not ask for early in the morning. Well XX came up and made a joke about Y getting his hands of his girl. They had some bro moment where the male Y asked him if he was serious, saying something about XX’s wife, to which XX backed down and said something like “It’s just a joke. I’d love to in my fantasies, but she’s company property, brother.” Company property??! I was sitting right there! I tensed up but tried to pretend I was so absorbed in the computer training as XX left and male Y went back to massaging me, but this time more boldly. He got down my lower back and upper buttock then went down the arms to my thighs, stopping me from doing any work as he blatantly brushed his forearms and hands against my chest. I felt so weak and almost paralyzed by the time I forced myself to stand up to go use the restroom, stopping it. I could have just done that at the beginning but did not. Later hat same day, XX had me go to lunch with him and have a beer at a bar and grill with a pool table. I was 20 but they did not ask for my ID because I was with XX. I hardly ever played pool and while we waited for our food he “showed” me how to play. He made fun of the cliché on movies and television where a man has a woman bend over the pool table to shoot just so he can push his crotch against her backside in a suggestive manger and lean over her with his arms on each side of her to show her how to slide the stick. But while he joked about it he actually did those things to me! That was a good day for my two main molesters and an awful day for me. XX hugged me as we stood up giggling and apparently his hands now had a license to molest my body whenever he wanted. I got numb to it in some ways, but emotionally more on edge. My butt was grabbed or spanked playfully in the department, even by male Y. A few other men were very flirtatious. My shoulders were rubbed, hugs on even minor greetings with XX and finally I was supposed to get used to little pecks on the lips too. I felt like I was in a constant state of mental anguish and defensiveness. My body could be attacked anytime. But I did not defend myself! I would say clearly to XX and some others that I wanted to be respected and considered one of the guys and have a job there when I graduated and they affirmed it. Both main abusers encouraged me, but still sexually harassed me. With my moronic blessing! The semester ended and I kept going in daily during summer break. It was my only lifeline to a possible job after I graduated in a year. I was so groomed that it was not a big leap at all when XX pressured me to give him head in his office. I refused with a smile and head shake and he came back with some rationalization about how I owed him and he really needed it just then. He would not take no for an answer. The first time I lowered myself to kneeling before his desk and took him in my mouth my hands were shaking and I teared up and had to sniffle snot back up. I was the one who was embarrassed! It was like an out of body experience and my mouth dried up to where I had to ask him to drink some of his energy drink. Internally there was a huge change immediately. I was gutted of all pride and self-worth. I was like a zombie. Hardly eating. Lots of coffee. Showing up and doing the reports that had become my responsibility and mechanically giving XX his daily BJ in the afternoon in his small stale office with a small window. I started to have migraines during that summer. I drove home for 4th of July and got so inebriated I ended up sleeping with my much older sister’s ex-husband in the back of his truck. That was a terrible wake up call. I knew I couldn’t pretend much longer without a breakdown so I put my two week in at the rental car place where I was working for free. To secure my future I made sure to keep it all friendly and “you know I’ll be back working here next year”. The idea of all the time and humiliation I had put in being lost to nothing was a major fear. I put myself through two last weeks of it. I had quickie sex with XX twice on and over his desk. I gave into extreme pressure and gave male Y a BJ too when he explicitly made it about a letter of recommendation. He knew about me doing it for XX. He did not even have his own office and we had to use the stairwell. During my final year of school I became aware that I was too traumatized to ever go back there anyway. The extent to which I had been used and abused became obvious to me, where before it had not. As if I had been living in a denial haze. It was a painful time. I was a bit reckless. I got a C in the high level economics elective I took. I said yes to several dates to avoid being alone and either slept with them or freaked out in anger at them. Seeing that I needed the car rental faux-internship on my resume I did email both abusers for letters of recommendation and got a good one from Male Y, but a very impersonal, generic one from XX. I was so dejected and angry. Finally, I told my sister, the one who confronted me about her ex-husband. I TOLD HER EVERYTHING AND THAT WAS MY FIRST STEP TO RECOVERY. To letting out the pain, screaming at myself in the mirror, punching the heavy bag at a boxing gym I joined, and to seeing my first psychologist and psychiatrist. The therapy helped more than the Celexa and antipsych. The support group helped even more. I met two friends for life who have my back in times of sorrow. I have to repeat that it is not my fault that I was abused, even though it kind of was. Don’t let it happen to you! They will take as much as they can from you. Plan your boundaries now and be assertive! Report harassment immediately. Doing so you are being a hero and protecting other women and yourself. If you have already been abused, GET OUT of the situation and talk to someone about it ASAP. There is nothing to be gained by letting the abuse continue! Talking to someone makes it real and lets you start the process of hating less and starting on the path to learning to love yourself again. You deserve real love.

My sexual assaults story is uncommon for most and hard to most people to grasp. Who would believe that children are capable of knowing and doing such gruesome things to person? Most children are not like this and their experiences are different. It first happened when I was 8 years old while, my abuser was 7 years old at the time. I remember the abuse happening gradually as we build our friendship. It first started with us doing typical kid stuff like us playing together and joking around. And one day, he asked me to play this new game with him. I said sure. I thought it would be one of those silly jokes stunts of his. Instead he pulled my pants down and rubbed his private part against my bottom. It was really uncomfortable moment for me since, I grew-up in a strict Christian-based family. I have never witness anyone on television or heard of the things he was doing to me. Afterwards, I remember me being shy to tell anyone and feeling like I would get into trouble. So I remained quiet. How would any parent react if you see children engaging in sexual behavior? Wouldn't you automatically assume it was the oldest child to teach someone this behavior? This went on for almost 2 years. His behavior became more advance and his request got more weirder. One time, he begged me to drink his pee directly from his part. I told him no. And he stomped across the room mad. He kept persisting and demanding that I try it. Eventually, I gave in but, I told him only from a cup. It was the most dehumanizing experiences of my life. It was not long afterwards, that my father caught us. I remember me trying shove the boy off of me. And telling him that my dad was coming and he kept going harder and harder. I guess he thought I was lying to convince him to get off of me. He wouldn't stop until my father walked into the room.

I’m a 22 year old woman. I’ve only had two sexual experiences in my life which involved two different men on two different occasions having sex with me while they thought I was asleep (some context: the first time I was 16 I threw a small house “party” less than ten people, as it got later in the night I felt tired so I rested my eyes on my couch and he came onto me and I just froze keeping my eyes closed and body limp as if I was asleep. I remember telling myself in the moment “don’t make a scene” afterwards I would tell myself that sexual assault was bound to happen to me eventually and to just be grateful it wasn’t violent. The next day I tried to tell myself it didn’t happen that I just “fell asleep and dreamt it” but I couldn’t deny the way my body felt, the way it hurt, and how my underwear was pulled to the side. The only time I had been somewhat intimate with someone before then was with boyfriend I had my freshman year of high school. He was incredibly respectful of my decision of not being ready for sex or anything similar so all we did was kiss and make out. The second time I’m not sure how old I was maybe 18. I was at my best friends house and we invited her friend that was over 21 so he could bring us alcoholic drinks. That time is very fuzzy I just remember fighting falling asleep on the couch but again I behaved like an imbecile and rested my eyes telling myself my best friend is with me I’m safe. What I didn’t know is that she had went to her bedroom to sleep and the guy moved me from a sitting upright position to lay my head on his lap. At first he was just kissing my face and lips while I just pretended to be asleep. I knew it was weird but I told myself it was fine and that I was strong enough to handle it. Then he picked me up and brought me to a bedroom where he had sex with my apparent unconscious body. The next morning is a complete blur except for the bruising on my legs and hickeys on my torso. Although writing this I’m realizing those could have just been bruises aswell). I feel so deeply ashamed that I just layed there and accepted it when the least I could’ve done is open my eyes and say “stop”. I didn’t know either of them very well but I considered them friends and thought they would come to their senses and stop before fully “committing” to the act. I was wrong. I’m 22 now and I have zero desire for any sexual or intimate relationships/experiences of any kind and I feel like there’s something wrong with me. My friends talk about sex and how they love being in relationships and the intimacy that comes with it but I just can’t fathom ever willingly putting myself in any relationship or situation like that. I’ve never talked about my sexual assault but my friends have opened up to me about their experiences and how it made them hyper sexual and they are all currently in loving relationships. I just wish I could be “normal”. I think about what happened everyday especially in the shower when I’m scrubbing my skin foolishly hoping that it will “erase” what my body remembers. A few of my friends that told me about their experience with sexual assault said they froze and I feel empathy and sympathy for them along with anger and disgust towards the person who assaulted them. But when it comes to me I can’t help but feel hate and disgust towards myself and blame myself for it, believing I deserved it because I let it happen. I also don’t even feel angry with the guys that did that me, just defeated. I made this post because I wanted to take a step towards talking about my experiences and hopefully healing from them but I’m not ready to open up to my friends about what happened me although I think of few of them already have suspicions because of my total disinterest in sex and relationships along with the way I spring awake ready to run out a door or jump out of a car if I’m woken up with physical touch. Vulnerability isn’t a strength of mine and I find the anonymity of this page comforting. I’m also open to any advise people might have that have been in similar situations. I feel like since my first and only times having “sex” weren’t consensual that I’ll never develop sexual emotions and that makes me feel inadequate and fundamentally marred. I’m sorry for writing such a long post but I do feel a sense of relief from writing this down and putting it out there even if it is anonymous. To whoever reads this- You’re beautiful inside and out. I hope happiness finds you today and it feels like gentle shower of warm sunshine on tired skin. Thank you for taking the time to read my post💛

Me and My Shadow I was in the shadows but safe until you appeared. The shadows held me as I blended into life. But you brought a false sense of security and belonging by weaving lies. Lies, which without closer examination portrayed a caring man, a picture everyone saw. Lies which threatened my freedom, my career, my safety, my health, my confidence, my friendships. More lost than gained, More damaged than healed Timed journeys, timed grocery shopping, fecking timed everything. Control, control over who visited, control over shopping, fecking control over everything. You were the fecking Timing Controller of my life. Controlling to much, pushing me until my confidence was stilted and decisions were beyond my reach. So much for my high heels and power suit of management, they sure as hell weren't built to protect from rape and domestic violence. The suit was a challenge for you to bring me lower, so low I hardly recognised myself, so low I suicided, so low I thought I couldn't go any lower but yet I'd never go as low as you. My head space began to throw tantrums, not allowing you to live rent free. Thoughts of safety, freedom, family, friends filled it. Night turned to dawn as I made a call, a one sided call to Women's Aid. Each silent call gave me courage to step out of the darkness. Stepping up to the lights of help, hope, reality and clarity. Times even still I'm a shadow of my former self but I'm never stepping lower to believe: lies are love, isolation is closeness, a wallop or push was done in jest. Rape is love making. Domestic violence is abuse of one person by another person and rape is the unwanted invasion of a person by another person. Standing no longer in the shadows, Standing in the sunshine making harmless shadows, hurting nobody, loving life. Loving life without you.

Hi. I was 4. He was 17. We will call him B. I was placed with a new foster family. They lived on a big farm & had lots of animals. They had a new litter of kitties. My first day there, B took me to see the animals and pick out a kitten that could be my buddy. I picked a solid black kitten and he was the smallest. The next morning he took me with him to the barn to do chores. He took me to the loft and said he would bury my kitten if I didn't do everything he said. He pulled down the front of my Dora pajamas and began licking me. I was so confused and did not know what was happening. My body was confused. I was scared but my body wasn't responding in a fearful way. After he finished, he pulled my panties back up and told me I'm his favorite snack. I wanted to run and tell a grown up but I was scared for my kitten. That night I woke up feeling him doing it to me again. Next day, same thing. . . Every day I was there this happened. It escalated but it's too triggering to share right now. I should have been kept safe.

I'm 37 year old male survivor in my country. I don't know what to share yet. I am a survivor of multiple assaults in childhood and early adulthood, mostly with female assailants. I think I'm ready to talk with some female survivors (though not in most details). To be honest this scares me though. My experience with advocacy and support groups (apart from a website specifically for male survivors) in the past has been very negative. I have always wondered what a *true* coalition of survivors of all genders would look like.

A friend and I dated within the same friend group, and I used to hang out with the guys a lot--I considered them as my brothers. One night when we were altogether, I felt too drunk to take myself home and felt safe with my friends ex to get a cab and drop me off. He came in uninvited and kissed me, then all I remember are flashes of us being naked, him being inside of me, going down on me, etc., but I felt like I couldn't move. I woke up to shower, my bed was broken, and he was gone. I called him the next day to confront him about it, and that I don't even remember what happened. He said he thought "i enjoyed it" (I was unconscious half of the time), and only stopped because the bed broke. Although he apologized he had the audacity to tell me not to share this with anyone, and to this day only very few close friends know about this incident. It truly broke my trust even with platonic guy friendships.

For like three years I’ve been picked on at school but in a weird way. This group of guys would shove each other into me saying things like ‘I know u want it’ two of them would take this as an excuse to touch me, then when I got moved next to one of them in maths it just got worse and he started threatening to r@pe me. There was also a situation in pe when one of them threw a ball at my bum then laughed about it with his friends. When I told the school they got them to stop talking to me but it doesn’t seem as tho they care. Now I cant focus properly in any of my lessons

Around five years ago, I was raped repeatedly by a man I was seeing. It was the kind of rape that some people don’t consider rape - other than the act itself, there was no additional physical violence. There were no threats. There was just the constant knowledge that he would not listen when I said no, that he would not care or stop when I told him it hurt or that I didn’t feel safe. He always kept going. Every time I went over to his house, I knew that it was about to happen again. I kept going over, at least for a little while. Eventually, I tried to end things with him. I stopped answering his calls and texts and a bit later we met for coffee somewhere. I told him I didn’t feel safe with him. I didn’t use the word ‘rape’. I didn’t think of that as what it was, really at all. What was happening to me didn’t fit what I thought rape was supposed to be like. I thought of it as him “pressuring me into sex” or “not listening when I said no.” Not as bad. He told me he was sorry, and that he couldn’t help it. I said okay. He didn’t stop. A few weeks later, I ended it for good. This is not the last time I was raped, but it will always be the episode that affects me the most. Because the other time, I knew what it was. I realized that I was being raped as I was being raped and that somehow made it easier for me to process. But this episode will never stop affecting me. It has sent me to a psychiatric hospital. I have been treated for depression, anxiety, and PTSD. My sex life will never again be effortless. I will never be able to have full-length mirrors in my bedroom. I will never be able to enjoy the things that he didn’t ask if he could do to me. I can live with these things, because I am strong and my support system never fails me. The part I don’t know that I will be able to get over is that I knew I wasn’t consenting, but I didn’t know it was rape. I hope you do know.

sorry that this is super long😭😭😭 when I was younger I was best friends with this girl we met on the first day of kindergarten and were inseparable and when we were 7 she started touching me on the school bus and I told the school and instead of helping they put me and her in the school counselor's office and she showed us a video of keeping our hands to ourselves and not letting other people touch out bodies 3 weeks she raped me in her bedroom and I didn't know what to do so I just laid there and didn't speak I think it made it worse that she is a girl and its not typical for females to rape other females so I felt as no one would believe me so I stayed quiet because of what happened the first time after that stuff kept happening but then I got into the 5th grade and we didn't see each other because it was there first real year of COVID so it was all basically online and we were in different classes but then 6th grade started and I was back to seeing her every day and that was super hard and she started to do that stuff and it was really bad on my mental health then she decided to punch me in the face for no reason so I stopped talking to her I ended up admitting myself to a psych ward where I did end up getting help and was doing better and I went to my ex friends play performance and this friend was friends with the girl at the time and I still wanted to be his friend so I because friends with her again and told her that I stopped talking to her because my best friend told me to that night she raped me in my own bedroom after I let her borrow my clothes my shows by hairbrush my everything and she still decided to rape me and that hurt and again like the first time I sat there doing and saying nothing for some reason I couldn't no matter what no matter what I thought no matter what I said nothing I was frozen I always everyone talk about fight or flight and no one ever talks about freeze even tho its one of the most common ones every time she did something like that I would freeze I wouldn't talk I would barely move I just laid there helpless like God was gonna send someone to help me but he never did I was all alone I was like a helpless dog dying on the side of the road and I just let her do it I said no once and after she didn't stop I gave up I didn't know what do do anymore and I didn't wanna repeat myself for some reason so thus I didn't after that I stopped talking to her all together and in 8th grade after being out as transgender for about a year when kids would say stuff what I would correct them on my name she would stand up for me and I hated that I hated it so much it made me feel like I couldn't hate her for raping me and assaulting me because now shes standing up for me so if I hate her I would be a bad person even tho I know I am not a bad person for hating her because I have every right to because of what she did to me even if it was a long time anyways I think that's it sorry again that this is super long I don't know what others look like so I don't know if mines actually long or not compared to other peoples but if you read all of this thank you for reading my story and I hope all of you have an absolutely amazing 💗💗💗

While I was a Collge Student; I met The Most Precious Lady. She is so Beautful, Elegant and Refined. I was unable to buy Her a meal due to demands of expenses. She has been through unspeakble pain in Her Lifetime. Although I bought Her pizza and gave Her transporation; I wish that I could have taken Her to the finest Restaurant. This Lady is a Hero (Heroine). She has known the vile temperatures of Winter and scalding Hot Days of Summer in City, State. She gets dehydrated, hungry, damp, chapped lips, Her Braids have gotten frozen together, She trudges through slush in strong winds. She has been abused by Slumlords. Name is African American. From My travels to East Africa; I believe that She is Tribe. I am 56 years of age. She is over 35 years of age. In certain Cultures: She would be treated as a Queen; protected, kept safe, insults would not be allowed. Of Course She is a Human Being Who makes mistakes, but She has been severely discriminated against because of the color of Her skin. When I held Her hand, I knew that I was with Royalty. To All of Those Who Care about Ladies not being mistreated; Please vote for strong laws against abuse of Females. This Lady has been close to homelessness. Promised many great rewards by people who take advantage of Her; I hope that One good Day She is living so comfortable. She is could probably be considered "anorexic"; as She likes to look Perfect (Which She Is). There is great Sexual Exploitation in U.S.A. and throughout The World. Males make all sorts of obscene gestures to Females and think that there is no consequences. Actions have consequences, words have consequences. Victims of Sexual Harassment such as Name need just recompense. Myself, I took a Male who had abused Her and put Him on The Ground. It is probably wrong to take the Law into One's Own "Hands", but can We believe that a better day is coming? When Female Victims are protected. Bail Reform has allowed many Predators to be in Society. I am not a "vigalante", but it causes Me great sadness that Male Oppressors are not put in Prison for a long time. There has been magnitudes of Victimization. Name is A Victim. I'm sure that She does not want to be viewed as weak or made an example of. But She broke My Heart with Her tender voice, kindess, smile, strength, Spirit, Inner Joy and ablity to Survive. People of Wealth, Stature, Affluenza, etc... think that They can "Buy" a Female's respect. It is heinous, deviant and depraved. So Many Ladies like Precious Name deserve so much Better. Please have Honor in Your Heart, Mind, Soul, Words and Actions.

I’m not sure how old I was when I was sa’d, my memories from my childhood are mostly blurry but there are few moments that I just remember clearly. I was little, I think about first or second grade maybe, 7/8, I know at that time I didn’t have a phone or ipad or anything like that, my parents would sometimes let me watch tv. I had a cousin who I would often sleep over at, we were kind of best friends and she had an older brother (i think he is 2/3 years older dunno weren’t in contact for long). I know I thought he was super cool, he already could read hard books and had phone and played games, idk what excatly led to my sa and idk how it happened but i just remember this one memory of my aunt asking me if I want to sleep with my cousin or my cousins brother, and I remember her brother just kept saying that I should sleep with hum that it’s gonna be fun, and I said yes, and I climbed into his bed and we were supposed to sleep next to each other but instead he pulled my clothes off and just touched me under the blanket, i did not understand what was happening, i was just glad he letted me play games at his phone and look through his books that had pretty pictures in them. I don’t know how many times this could have happened, i definitely think a few it’s just that i can’t say a straight number because my memories are mixed up. I know that one time he forced me to lay in bed with him while watching some cartoons on the tv and he forced ne to take off my pants and then he would do it to and he would touch it and ask id it felt nice, and then he would just tell me to lay on top of him so we would touch and stuff, i want even uncomfy back then i generally didn’t know what was happening (i never got any sex education or puberty education book, my parents also did not explain stuff) so at that age i seriously did not know a thing. its weird because, i realized what happened only years later when i was jn pool in swimsuit (i was around ten) and one of my other cousins jokingly touched my private parts, i remember feeling disgusted and weirded out because at that time I had at least bit of awarness of it being wrong, I know I cried that day a lot. I remember at 13 when i read online that girls who turn 15 go to gynaecologist and they can find out if youre still a virgin or smth and i remember being scared of them finding out about what happened when i was younger. i somehow wish this never happened, it was such a little thing, it wasnt violent as others, i wasnt hurt or anything, but i still suffer, i used to be afraid of men, then hating them, constant problems with my gender, sometimes i feel like my body isnt really mine anymore, its just an object, a plastic mannequin. I used to hate people touching me including mz mom and others, for long long time the only physical affection a person would get from me would be a hand-shake. i was disgusted by thought of kissing or hugging. I used to vomit when someone remained me of my sexual trauma. like a dog when u tell him “sit” i would vomit just like that. And now, i just, can’t even date anyone, i dont think i ever will be able. well that was enough of a ramble… i just wanted to type it here but it ended up longer then expected.

There have only ever been two people in my life that have ever known the details of my two sexual assaults, my husband and my mother. The few siblings and friends that do know that I have been raped only know that fact-that I have been raped. I have always feared the look on a person’s face when they are told that something like that has happened to you. I fear that I will be seen as less than or that I won’t be believed. These fears are just as strong today as they were when the rapes took place 17 and 16 years ago respectively. Now that my mother has passed, there is only one person who knows about the brutality that I endured and the scares I still live with today. I was a normal 16 year old working in a smoothie shop when I met a cute boy who had come in for a drink. He asked for my number, but I told him that I didn’t give my number out to people I don’t know. He assured me that he would be back as many times as it took for me to know him. He was true to his word and we began dating about two months later. He played for a local junior sports team that players from all over the US and some other countries played in that lead to countless former players going on to being drafted by professional teams. I had never been to a game before meet my then boyfriend. After dating for several months, I lost my virginity to him. I was completely in love. Not long after that he and I went to a party at the house of one of the “host” families that players lived with while they played in the league. We were talking in a bedroom when he told me he was going to go get us drinks and he would be back. The next time the door opened, I was not my boyfriend who entered, it was the Captain of the team that I had had very few interactions with. I will refer to him as L. L asked where my boyfriend was and said he would just wait for him to come back. L sat down on the bed while we made polite small talk about things like what schools we went to, where he was from originally, etc. I told L I was going to go look for my boyfriend because he had been gone for a strange amount of time. As I got up, L grabbed my wrist and yanked me back down on the bed. Before I could even think he was on top of me. He pinned my hands above my head then pulled my tank top down exposing my breast. I begged him to stop, I yelled hoping someone would hear me over the music, and fought as hard as I could. Even when he only had one hand grasping my wrists while he used the other to undo his pants and remove the underwear I was wearing under my skirt, I still wasn’t strong enough to get free. I begged him not to do this to me. He told him that I would be happy he did once it was over because he was “amazing.” I screamed at him to get to f**k off of me so he slapped me so hard that my ears were ringing. He used his knees to keep my legs apart as he violently raped me. This was only the second time that I had ever had sex. When he was done, he got up from the bed and said something about me being a dirty girl and that I would be begging him for more. My boyfriend came in the room seconds after L had walked out. I expected him to comfort me or go do something to L or just ANYTHING at all. Instead he told me that I was slut who cheated on him. Apparently it was common practice for the captain to get to sleep with any of the rookie’s girlfriends. My boyfriend said that I wouldn’t have “let” it happen if I didn’t really want it. He said things like that so many times that I actually started to question it myself. I stayed with my boyfriend because I felt like damaged goods. I took the blame whenever he cheated on me because “I cheated on him first.” I put up with being beaten by my boyfriend because he “wouldn’t be so angry if I hadn’t been a slut.” This relationship was on and off for several years and was my first experience of love. I have since been able to see that nothing about that relationship was love, but it shaped the relationships I had and partners I chose for years. I never reported my rape. I used long sleeves, pants, and makeup to cover the deep bruising that seemed to be on my body forever. After months of not being able to sleep without nightmares or going a single day without a flashback of the assault, I began abusing drugs and alcohol along with cutting myself. Around a year after my rape and the start of my substance abuse struggles, my parents went out of town for a weekend so I decided that was a perfect time to have a party with some friends from my school. I attended a pretty small school with about 80 kids per grade, most of which I had been in school with since preschool. There were probably 10 or 15 of us hanging out, drinking, and having fun. It was probably around 2 or 3 AM when people started passing out. I went to my room and passed out fully clothed on my bed. At some point I woke up somewhat to see a very good guy friend of mine on top of me. I was in and out a lot because of how intoxicated I was so I was barely able to move let alone fight him off of me. I remember telling him no and stop. The next thing I remember is my best friend coming into my room in the morning to tell me we were going to go to McDonald’s for some “hangover food”. I was under my covers but only had my shirt on. I got dressed, got in the car, and went to get food. As we were driving I got a text from the male “friend” that had been on top of me. He was asking me not to tell anyone about what happened the night before. I never responded because I still hadn’t fully wrapped my head around what happened. This situation was different from the first time. He was my friend. It wasn’t a violent assault like before and HE WAS MY FRIEND. I knew that doing anything about it would make me an outcast, which was terrifying to me at 17 years old. I understand how unbelievably stupid that was now at 33 years old. I told myself that I had invited him over. I have gotten drunk. I had gone to bed after telling everyone they could stay the night. It was my fault. Again, my perspective is different now. I spiraled into drug and alcohol addiction to a degree that should have killed me. I made several attempts to end my life, but still never told a soul what had happened to me. I ended up being sent to a rehabilitation center and was exiled from my family as soon as I turned 18 because they didn’t want to deal with it anymore. I was fortunate to grow up in a family of wealth but unfortunately that wealth was viewed as being enough to make my siblings and I happy. That meant that quality time and conversation were nonexistent. We were given new cars and credit cards to do whatever we wanted while my parents spent most of their time abroad or in homes they owned in other states. It took nearly a decade for me to develop a relationship with my mom again. One day she finally asked me the question that I had unknowingly wanted to be asked by my family which was-Why did you do all of the things you were doing back then? What happened? I broke down in tears and assure my mom that she didn’t need to live with the knowledge of what had happened to her daughter. I had a daughter of my own at that point. My mom told me that she did need to know because she had carried so much shame for not having made any attempts to find out what was really going on. I started by simply saying that I had been raped twice. She tried to come over to hug me but I said I was ok. She then asked things like when, where, who. I was very vague about it and left out the names of the people. She sat me down and told me that I had to tell her e.v.e.r.y.t.h.i.n.g because I had suffered through it alone long enough. I’m a lot of ways telling her was harder than enduring the rapes because I had a daughter and knew how devastated I would be if this had happened to her. I also feared that she wouldn’t believe me. She listened, we cried, and she apologized for making me think I wouldn’t have been believed. I apologized for the way I handled my pain from it by abusing substances. I have hope that the country is making strides when it comes to the way sexual assault is handled, however, I live every day with fear that my daughter may be violated in the way that I was and I will be powerless to stop it.

I got sexually assaulted by a massage therapist. Damn it feels so good to say that out loud (or at least type to whoever is listening in the interweb universe). I felt like it was my fault. Was I flirting with him? Did I lead him on in some way? Should I take it as a compliment? Ew. Disgusting that I am so conditioned to feel that way. I completely froze when it was happening. I felt detached from my body, floating overhead looking down at myself, praying for it to be over. Hell I even tipped him afterwards. Why did I do that... it’s hard to say. I guess I was shocked. Terrified. Maybe I panicked and just wanted to get out of there as fast as possible. But what does that mean for the other women he will come in contact with? Will reporting it to his manager be enough to stop this from happening to someone else? Did she even take what I said seriously? And what does this mean for me? How can I navigate the world knowing that things like this happen everyday. I’m discouraged. I’m angry. I’m sad. And I feel like I didn’t do enough. But what else could I have done? What case could I win with virtually no evidence?

Hi. I've never done this before but I'm doing it now, because I feel like it is the next step to healing? I'm not quite sure. But I hope I can get this all out to a point where you can understand. Whenever I was about maybe 5-7, and my brother was around 11-13, he would want to play a 'game' with me. I never knew what the game was until he touched me. Inappropriately. If this is too triggering for you, please click the safety exit. He would put me in sexual positions and tell me to stay there while grinding on me. I didn't know what was happening, but I just stayed there because I didn't want to disappoint him. As a kid I always wanted my parents and my brother's validation. It meant everything to me. But during this time I just wanted to make him happy, so I would let him. This would happen often and when I said no he pressured me and tried to persuade me. I always said yes. I wish I didn't, but I can't blame myself. I was only a baby, I was like seven or five, that's practically a baby. This stopped whenever we moved houses. But I always remember it and the aftermath it left on me. I'm now extremely hypersexual, and I feel disgusting about it. Everything I touch, everything I see turns sexual. I hate it. I absolutely hate it. I hate the taintedness he left in me. We have a solid relationship now, but I resent him for how I am now.

Date and Time I went on a date with him (a correctional officer), thinking it was an opportunity to become acquainted with him as a friend, but it turned out to be a horrific night which I would only remember parts of. He picked me up in his white pickup truck; it smelled of cologne and winterfresh gum. Two smells I will never forget. He took me to a dirty dive bar without asking where to go. I already didn’t feel safe, and I regret that I never said anything to this day. I got my first drink, rum and coke. Keep in mind that my glass was smaller than a coffee mug. We started talking, and he told me he used to be in the army. He seemed to be trying hard to persuade and impress me, but I was not falling for it. The taste of my drink was no different than I had before. I was nearly done with my first drink when he asked if I wanted another, and I agreed. He returned with another and asked if I wanted to play darts, and I again agreed. I took one drink of my second rum and coke he brought to me and started to feel dizzy, tired, and weak. I didn’t say anything yet. I continued with darts. By then, he gave me a third drink, I don’t remember if I even had a drink of it. I do recall saying, ‘I wanted to go home,’ and we left out the side door to his white pickup truck. I don’t remember getting inside the front seat, let alone the backseat. My eyes flickered open and closed, waking me to see him face-to-face. Raping me, I am frozen in shock. Disgusted by what he was saying to me. When he was done, he threw a towel on me and told me to ‘clean up.’ He tossed my shoe onto my nude body and said, ‘Now I will take you home.’ Twenty degrees outside, I was nude in a familiar parking lot. I got dressed. He took me home; no words were exchanged. Once I got in my house, I went straight into the shower and cried. I was a virgin He took my innocence from me that I can never get back. Date 2 and Time 2 Sitting in my office, He came in unannounced and sat down in a chair by the door. I looked up, feeling uneasy. I asked him, ‘what was he doing?’ He replied as he got up from his chair, ‘I know you want this c**k.’ He blocked me between my seat, the wall, and my desk, I had nowhere to go. He unzipped his pants, grabbed a handful of my hair, and forcefully made me give him oral sex. This time I was conscious through the whole rape. Pushing, gagging, and choking only made him put more force and hurt upon me. His strength was unbearable. When it was over, he threw a piece of winterfresh gun at me and left. Crying, feeling dirty, guilty, and shameful, I put myself together and completed my day. Violated, not only once but twice, by the same guy. Once outside of work and the other inside work. After the first attack, I was broken inside, but the second attack really damaged me. If I told anyone, no one would believe me because he was a very well-liked person at work, and I was just a caseworker. My sisters were the first to know about the first assault inMonth/Year. I held back on the second as I felt they wouldn’t forgive me for allowing it to happen again. Month 2/Year I told my sisters about the second assault. I went to internal affairs, who sent me to detectives. They supposedly did an investigation, but boys will boys, and where I worked, they all stick together. The DA dropped the case. Month/Year I now moved out of that county because of the triggers and the hope that my PTSD will get better with time. I know I am a survivor. I hope my story will become someone else’s survival guide. This happens when you are a strong, outspoken woman at the County Jail in City, State.

I was 13 years old when I lost my virginity. I didn’t know what consent was at that point in time but I felt pressured to do it anyways. It was the worst first experience and I felt like a used toy. This went on and on for 7-8 years and I felt stuck in this toxic relationship. The only option for me was to physically move away from me ex and I did. Only to get my heartbroken a few months after that. I noticed I try to move on by throwing myself at other guys but it’s not the healthiest coping mechanism but I’m recognizing my patterns and healing every day.

Initials I’ll never understand why you did what you did and it truly worries me because how would you even know how to act at that young of an age. Initials the first time it happened doesn’t leave my mind playing over and over again. When I lived in City playing house on the second floor in the walk in closet the play kitchen was in and you asked if I wanted to have a baby. Little baby obsessed me was like ofc and you go “a real baby” again I say yes because I’m not sure what that entails at the time. You began to kiss me pushing me to the floor where you began to do other things to my body that honestly really confused me at the time. But all I knew was I really wanted a baby and these weird things you did honestly felt good which looking back I hate admitting. The second time was that same night. I was wearing one of those silk Disney princess nightgowns with the tule little sleeves this one was Ariel my favorite princess at the time. I remember you peeling it from my body and demanding I lay on top of you again “making a baby” we began what I had just experienced earlier in the closet but more aggressive and that’s when I got told I couldn’t tell anyone and it had to be “our thing”. I didn’t think much of this and put it on the same level as when you’d sneak us cookie cake from the kitchen and would tell me the same thing. Then the rest is all scattered with no time line. Although I have many more memories I know there are so many more I have forgotten. But for a while this went on playing family became the regular and for the longest time I just went along with it. You would show me videos and pictures of what we were supposed to do. We used our baby dolls to demonstrate and make sure they could have babies too. Idek how we got to this but the fake dance completions we would create dances and practice for were so sexual to a point I should never have even known. The craziest part of this all is I feel as everyone around should have known. The multiple times we had gotten caught with our baby dolls or acting suspicious. The countless times at night when we were playing family with both your sisters IN the room. The countless times your youngest sister at the time would literally tattle on us and share exactly how we “played house” and you’d deny and deny and deny and they’d always believe you. Why did no one notice? Even our bike rides we stop in a field with our blanket and play family there. And the worst part of all of this was the way I enjoyed it that’s the most confusing part as a child whatever feels good we begin to crave especially when we don’t realize it’s wrong. You ruined me. Absolutely ruined me. My innocent self was now texting random old men wanting to “play family” with them. You had me making myself feel good in front of so many strangers just for the gross satisfaction of it. I regret all of it so much and I hate that it’s a part of me. It feels like this disgusting layer that I can’t shed and I’m constantly trying to hide from. You hurt me more than anyone ever could, and we have to act like everything never happened because what would people think of me. It was just as much my fault as it was yours. Although everyone says that’s untrue it’s what it feels like. This monster inside of me constantly gnawing away at every good part I have left. You’ve turned me into someone I don’t even recognize. You killed the innocent girl within me. Honestly I feel that’s why I’ll always be a child at heart because it feels nice to experience something that was taken from me so early. I will never understand why you did it.