In 2014, just a few weeks after my 16th birthday, I was sexually assaulted. It wasn't a random, isolated incident. I wasn't wearing a hoodie and sweats, walking home at night by myself. I didn't get attacked by some pervert in the bushes. It was someone I knew, someone I liked. It was at a party. It was the night that would live on in my memories as the night my life would never be the same.

Who was I then? Just some 16-year-old girl that thought she found the perfect guy. I was young and stupid. I let myself be someone that I wasn't. I drank until my lips couldn't feel until my legs couldn't carry my own weight. I broke curfew because I felt rebellious. I laughed because for once, I felt cool. I should have known something would happen. I should have left when I was told to. But mistakes were made, mistakes that led to that pickup truck, with the boy who I thought I knew so well and trusted too much.

Who am I now? I'm not a victim. I'm a survivor. I'm not a marauder. I'm braver. I'm stronger. I know who I can trust. I can fend for myself. I'm more aware of myself and of others.

For a while, I never wore white. I thought it was the end of my purity and innocence. I swore my parents hated me. I thought that I ruined my family. I felt so ashamed of myself. I was just another case file, another number on a growing list of sexual assault victims. I found no closure. I didn't sleep for weeks. I wrote diary entries to my attacker, as my shrink had instructed, and I let him know just what he had done to me. I watched him walk across the stage at his high school graduation, and receive a huge hug from the principal, who knew exactly what he had done.

When I think about it now, I think about those other girls that weren't as lucky as me. I was still alive, and I would go on to live my life. Those other girls, they would never heal. They would trust no one, they would fear for their lives every time they walked outside their house. My bumps and bruises healed, but they would carry their scars forever.

So now, I stand for those survivors and the others who did not make it out alive. I stand for any one who trusted someone a little too much and found out the hard way that not everyone has a good heart. I stand for the women who did not find closure, who were just another statistic, left to sit with the hope that something would be done when nothing would come of it. I stand for the girls who were ashamed, ashamed because they were made to feel that way. I stand for those that had to see their attacker again, maybe at a party or school or work. I know what it's like to wake up and remember the day it happened, to remember the moments before, pray to forget the moments during, and remember all the events to occur after.

I am a strong woman. I will not let this incident define my life any longer. I want those that have been attacked to feel the weight come off their shoulders, as it has for me. I want you to know you are not alone, and we will stand together and make our voices heard. I am a survivor, and I will not be silenced.