violated

“Don’t worry about the future. Or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind, the kind that blindside you at 4pm on some idle Tuesday.” ~ Mary Schmich

No, Miss Schmich. I was not blindsided at 4 PM on a some idle Tuesday but at 7 PM tonight. I became a victim of a guy indecently exposing his pecker and so close to being a victim of sexual assault. By the time I have published this my hands would’ve stopped shaking, the angry tears stinging my eyes have stopped falling, my breathing would be calmer, my body would be an image of serenity again. But like all things seen, everything outward will contradict the turbulence happening within. The chaos in my mind, the fear that beats in my heart, the hostility that would continue to course through my veins.

I was seventeen when I was raped. I told my father and he replied that I had it coming. My naiveté made my entire ordeal my fault. I believe there was some part of it that was true. Until now I think that if just had a decent sex education or made myself aware of the depravity of man I would have prevented what happened to me. Even if it took some years for me to move forward I was able to. Now I’m guarded. Now I am responsible. Now I do not put myself in situations that would compromise myself. You will never see me intoxicated that I cannot drive or bring myself home. You will never see me wear provocative clothes that will solicit a guy’s unwanted lust. You will never see me in places “unsafe”. I wasn’t worried, but I promised myself I will no longer be the accused when I am suppose to be a victim of a crime.

It is not fair that within ten seconds of your life everything that you’ve worked for the last thirteen years will be ineffectual. It is not fair that despite the fact that a woman is just sitting at the bus stop wearing jeans, a shirt, a winter jacket and a cap she will be in danger of rape. It is not fair that because of that single incident I would feel paranoid over every place and every guy. It is not fair that a man can scorn a woman’s gender. It is not fair that any person could bring me close to self-loathing again for being a woman.

I do not feel “lucky” that the bus finally came before you had a chance to put your filthy hands on me. I do not feel “better” calling the cops and having to retell them what you did to me. I do not feel “safer” just because I am in the confines of my house. You may not have touched me but I felt the danger of my life as you stood above me while I look up to see you holding your willy with your left hand and your right hand reaching to grab my head. You may not have penetrated me but the wildness in your eyes as lust consumed any form of reason in you burned my being. Your hand may not have reached me but the momentary aggression I felt towards the police officer who blamed me seemed like you did. You may not have touched me but I feel every inch of me violated as worse as being raped.

I may not be a rape victim based on the judicial definition of the term “rape” but it doesn’t make any lesser the trauma I am going through.