Can I be free

Or does my womanhood cage me

Shackled by what you claim me to be

Men made society this way so its easy to hate me

Institutionalized sexism starts at birth

With a pink blanket and a cute little skirt

I hate your boxes, I only need my own

I hate your boxes, but from them I have grown

And I say this now! Just let me be free

In the way that every woman should be..

-Scout

When I first heard about the women who have been sexually assaulted by Trump, I felt sick to my stomach. When I was 16, I was sexually assaulted by someone close to me and my family. It took me nearly two years of silent suffering to finally come forward about what had happened. And when I did come forward, I did not get the response I was hoping for from my family. Instead of being consoled, I was questioned. Instead of feeling loved, I felt like a burden. For both cultural and situational reasons, it was easier for my family to ignore what had happened to me, than accept the brutal reality that I had been sexually assaulted in a traumatic way.

My family continued on with their relationship with the perpetrator as if nothing had happened. My grandfather told me sexual assault was “a coming of age,” and that most women go through it. Without my families support, I was never truly the same. My family made me feel like I was crazy or overreacting. It has been a tough pill to swallow understanding and accepting that my own family will never support me the way I need them to.

This personal battle I faced reflects, in my eyes, the struggle which women find themselves in every day. The selectivity of outrage from men and women and how we define gender norms, how we decide when it's okay to call a girl a slut, when its’ okay to call a man out for his actions, is what makes being a woman so hard. This hypocrisy I see in my family, and in society at large, is why I am speaking out about my experience. I am older now, and as I look back I see so clearly I was not wrong to feel how I did. I was not wrong to ask for help. What was very wrong though, was what happened to me and the lack of support I was able to find. I am grateful for my brother and closest childhood friend who validated my feelings, and made sure I knew that, yes, what had happened to me was a traumatic experience which demanded attention. Seeing the courage Trumps victims have to publicly speak about their assaults has inspired me to share my own story.

As a woman who has been sexually assaulted, I marched in solidarity with the women who have come forward in their sexual encounters with President Trump. January 21st will be remembered in history as a day that Women unified humanity on a global level. For me, January 21st was the day it no longer mattered if my family supported me because I was standing with a group of tens of thousands of people who did. In my city of Boston, upwards of 175,000 people showedupto rally against hatred and for a fundamental understanding of equality. I know now it is unacceptable to pick and choose when sexual assault is okay, and I will never remain silent again. The women who came forward in regards to Trump and his assaults are my hero’s, and they are why I am openly expressing my experiences today. While we all had unique stories and motives for attending, the one unifying factor among all of us was a mutual understanding and respect for human dignity.

I marched because I understand that from birth,women are dealt a tougher deck of cards than men. From my perspective and my experience as a woman, there are too many men in this world who genuinely believe they have a right to control a woman’s body, my body. I know men exist who are fearful of strong, opinionated women, and I happen to think Trump is one of those men. As a woman who has been told far too many times what is and is not okay to do with my body, I made my way to Boston on January 21st. As a woman who has watched her rapist get a hug and a kiss from the people closest to me, knowing there are women out there watching President Trump take office who have been assaulted by him, I made my way to Boston January 21st. And as I looked around, I understood that there was a fundamental agreement among the enormous crowd that people can never compromise their humanity, for our humanity is what makes us people.