One in six American women experience some type of sexual violence in their lifetime.
17.7 million American women are estimated to have been victims of completed or attempted rape since 1998.
Every 68 seconds an American is sexually assaulted.
One in four girls have been sexually abused before the age of 18.
These statistics are a part of me, or rather I am a part of them.
Chances are, you know someone who has been violated whether or not you or they know it. It’s unnerving how common assault is, yet at the same time it’s just a part of life for some.
Hurt, scared, embarrassed, furious, confused– the effects of being harmed by another are severe. Thus the choice I made, the choice to tell authorities, is one that I do not regret, but do understand in its entirety how scary and difficult it was to do. So many women never speak up out of fear or embarrassment and their silence is not fair.
My school life changed drastically. I left my history class in order to avoid seeing my perpetrator. I spent a lot of time in guidance. I struggled to focus in my classes and I feared walking in the halls. All the while juggling school, work, and my personal life, I spent time doing interviews, speaking with the police, making a police report, and having tests done in the ER. Everything that I could have done, I did.
While nothing came from my report legally — just a whole lot of hurt, anger, and confusion — a sense of personal strength developed in knowing I did what I could. Speaking up gave me power. The power I felt taken from me during my assault had returned. I had the option to use my voice and hold my assailant accountable. I could not turn that down. The fury I had was burning and it wasn’t just for me. It was, and is, for all those who have been harmed and chose not to speak up.
More women need to speak up. More offenders need to be held accountable. More action needs to be taken. Speaking up allowed me to regain control of my life. It encourages others to share their stories, which in return normalizes the conversation, painting a more accurate picture of this overwhelming issue. And more importantly, it helps others, fellow individuals who are part of the statistics, gain confidence and a greater sense of community.
“Give yourself time.” Three simple words were so heavy and at times it felt like the only advice people could give, which drove me nuts. I would deny that things would ever get better, I felt so hopeless. However, everyone was right. Time healed, it strengthened, and life kept moving on.
Advocating for others is a necessity now more than ever. Even when nothing happens legally, putting what happened to you out in the world creates an environment where others can feel confident enough to also speak up. The more voices the better. The community of those who’ve been assaulted is already huge, so make noise. Scream, shout, and demand. The number of people sexually violated each day, month, and year is absurd. Change is needed. So demand it.
The pain never goes away. Some days are harder than others, and the most random things can be triggering. Each day, though, the hurt becomes more manageable and it changes. That overpowering fury that I felt was overwhelming and destructive, and now the anger is more focused. I’m angry for myself, others, and at the system that failed me. Imagine what is felt by those who said nothing, who keep their story internal, or question if what happened even “counts”. Shouting for myself is my way of releasing the anger that I hold onto but also a way to share with the world the maddening fury and sadness that is hidden within others.
