You know exactly who you are. If there was one thing I could tell you face to face, it would be: “don't believe everything you hear, kid.”
I wish I was able to talk to you in high school and tell you what your coach, the man you looked up to as a leader, asked me, a 16-year-old high school sophomore, to have sex with him. This disgusting and perverted man asked me this, among other things, when I was only 16.
And he was, what? Thirty?
You took my story from me and twisted it so your role model's reputation wouldn't be tarnished.
Whether you realized it or not, you took the abuse I was suffering and diminished it to something unimportant and flat-out untrue. The admiration and respect of a sexual predator became more important than my story, the story of a victim. And it's all thanks to you.
You would have been shocked that someone you looked up to asked his 16-year-old student these questions. I walked around school in fear for an entire year without being courageous enough to tell anyone. I wanted to have a voice so badly, but do you understand how scary it is to speak when I was still learning the ropes of high school? I was still trying to make friends.
What if people were to judge me? What if people didn’t believe me? What if people manipulated my story?
My junior year I returned to school hoping my interaction with the teacher would all pass until he took it one step further. I decided my voice finally needed to be heard. I wish you knew how much I struggled to tell my mom, or better yet, my dad about how a teacher asked me to have sex.
I wish you knew how difficult it was trying to sleep the night before I had to reveal my story to my principal and my teachers.
And boy, I wish you knew how challenging it was giving him a friendly wave as he directed the buses into the building minutes before I went to share my story.
After I told my story I still felt mute because the lawyer with whom I was speaking told me I had to be cautious about what I shared with teachers and friends.
After telling my story, I felt stronger than I ever had before.
I never thought my name would ever get out. I thought the situation would just drift off, but then you had to get involved.
I wish you knew how difficult you made it for me to come to school every day. My own friends were talking behind my back because of some story you just automatically believed and spread about a girl you had never interacted with. I wish you gave me a chance. But instead, I had to listen to people I had never seen in the school talking about me.
Talking about the false story YOU spread. I spent days in the guidance office and teachers' classrooms crying about the rumors YOU spread.
But why did I let your rumors and the gossip bother me? Why did I give you that much power and ability?
It didn't take me long to realize that you and the people who easily believed your story had nothing better to do than ruin my reputation and destroy my confidence. Instead, I should thank you for making me realize what true friendship and support really are. And thank you for making me see how meaningless and cowardly you are. You showed me what little of a life you must have had to spend your time spreading rumors about me.
And most importantly, you showed me that I am stronger than I thought I was.