Wednesday November 9, 2016

I wish I could say it started as a normal day, but it didn't. It was the day after Election Day. The sky was overcast and there was a chill in the air, the weather outside mirroring the feelings of the people around me. Everyone seemed to be in a state of disbelief over the results of the election, and the anxiety in the air was almost palpable.

I went to choir that afternoon, where we talked about the new President-elect and what his election meant for us as women. I stayed a little bit late after choir, talking to a few friends of mine about the discomfort we felt about the President-elect's normalization of sexual assault and sharing stories of our own personal experience with sexual assault. I stayed silent, as I didn't have a story to share. I was thankful.

My last class of the day was from 7-9 pm. I wasn't feeling well, so I turned in my assignment and left about ten minutes later. I had a bad feeling as I was leaving the building, but I thought I was just paranoid from watching too many crime shows on TV. I should've listened to the voice in my head that was telling me to go back inside.

As I was turning the corner away from the building, I felt a hand cover my mouth. Another hand grabbed me by my waist and pulled me backwards until I was up against someone. I froze. The man whispered in my ear, telling me to stay quiet, as well as saying things that are too disgusting for me to even write. As I stood there, unable to move, his hands explored places no one else had ever dared to go, places he had no right to touch. I felt trapped, I couldn't see a way out of the situation. I was ready to give up. Keeping one hand on my mouth, he moved his other hand from my backside to the front of my body. I saw an opening, and I elbowed him as hard as I could in his stomach and stomped on his foot. It distracted him enough that he released me from his grasp and I ran, faster than I've ever run before. My dorm was only a five minute walk, so I made it upstairs to my room in a matter of minutes. I don't know if the man followed me. To this day, I don't know who he was. I'm not sure I want to know.

The first thing I did was call my sister. I had texted her briefly to tell her that something had happened and that I was going to call her, but I didn't go into that much detail. I had every intention of explaining to her what had just happened, but when she picked up the phone I started sobbing. She sat on the other end and listened to me cry for at least thirty minutes. She gently told me that she needed to go to bed, she had an early flight in the morning, but to text her if I needed anything. She said she'd leave her phone on in case I needed her, as she always sleeps with her phone on do not disturb.

My roommate came back to our dorm at some point while I was on the phone. She went next door to get our neighbor, a close friend of mine, and they sat on her bed waiting for me to be ready to talk. When I was off the phone, I calmed down enough to tell them what had happened. I texted my sister what I had intended to tell her while we were on the phone, and she told me I needed to try to sleep. She was right, but I couldn't fall asleep. My mind was racing, replaying what had happened over and over again in my mind. I called my sister again, and she let me fall asleep while we were on the phone with each other, just for my own peace of mind. It was comforting to know that she was there with me, even though she couldn't be there physically.

For weeks after that, I had nightmares every night. I flinched when people touched me or came too close. I was miserable, sleep deprived, and scared of everything and everyone. I was sure I'd never feel safe again. Thankfully, Thanksgiving break was only a few weeks later. Being home was exactly what I needed after what happened.

It's been over a year now, and not a day goes by that I don't think about what happens. Until now, I haven't felt ready to talk about this in any sort of detail. Not even my parents have heard this much of the story. I'm doing so much better now, but this will always be a part of me.

I couldn't have survived this on my own. I will always be thankful for my sister for being there and supporting me, loving me unconditionally even when I wasn't myself. I will always be thankful for my guy friends, who walked me home from that class and every other late night activity I had for the rest of the semester and the spring semester just to make sure I was comfortable and got home safely. I will always be grateful to my high school choir director, who encouraged me and gave me the strength to file a report with Title IX, and told me not to stay quiet. I will always be thankful for my parents, for not pushing me to talk about it when I wasn't ready.

If you're a victim of sexual assault, I encourage you to speak up about it. By sharing our stories we are encouraging a change in our culture. This is my catharsis. Let it be yours, too.