When I decided to first share my story with others, which you will hear in a moment, my intentions were somewhat selfish. I’ve held my own personal experience with sexual assault in for so long that I honestly craved a bit of a “me too” moment from others who suffered the same confusing and world tilting event as I did. It’s so terribly sad to say that I knew for a fact that if I posted my personal story in a Facebook group of 10,000 of the most wonderful women I know, I would get that “me too,” and maybe I wouldn’t feel so alone.
What resulted from my call in this Facebook group were some of the most heartbreaking stories I have read. Going through the few ladies who took the time to really tell me their stories made me wish we didn’t share that understanding. I wanted to beg and plead that I was the only one in the world to feel this way, because it wasn’t fair that these women, and so, so many more experienced this.
Yet, in spite of my selfishness, the sole purpose of me sharing my story, and these brave ladies sharing theirs, is to inform and to educate on a specific area of sexual assault. I, personally, call it the “grey area.” It’s this weird boundary that occurs in relationships or during blackout drunk nights or with old friends who had consent from you in the past. It’s assault caused by people that we have a hard time blaming for what they did, because it doesn’t exactly feel like rape, but it does feel wrong. It’s the situations that leave us confused over what happened and what we are supposed to call it.
But in the end, one thing was clear to me, no matter how it happened or whether I considered these stories rape, assault or just a misunderstanding, every single situation could have been saved had those involved took a second from their actions and asked “are you sure?” “Do you want this?” “ Is this okay?” So much confusion and hurt could have been avoided had someone asked for consent and really listened to the other person, read their body language and listened to their words.
That one last question of consent could have saved me from what I have been dealing with for nearly five years now. Because five years ago I was throwing a party. I had invited someone that I used to be physical with in college, and in the time leading up to the party we messaged about rekindling that intimacy for a night. But as the night drew closer, it felt more wrong.
The night of the party was the peak of my anxiety of what I had promised this person. I didn't want to go. So instead I drank a lot and begged my best friend to keep me at the house. But before the party was anywhere near over, I was being ushered out the door. I don't know why I went, but I know I felt a lot of guilt over taking back something I had promised an old friend, even if that promise was part of myself.
I can tell you that I am 100 percent certain that I did not say no to him. I can also tell you with absolute certainty that I laid there motionless, sobbing the entire time. Yes, sobbing. Not silently letting tears escape from my eyes, but full on ugly crying.
Since that night, I've never known what to call it. It wouldn't feel right calling him a rapist. But did he see me? If so, why didn't he stop? What exactly happened to me?
These are the questions that have plagued me for five years. Along with the realization that had he simply asked me for consent, I would have said no, and he wouldn't have continued. None of this would have happened.
This was a recurring theme in a great deal of the stories that were shared with me. Especially in couples or those with intimate pasts, sex seemed expected or deserved. These types of relationships don't practice consent because of a sense of entitlement to the other person. But these situations happen. Between couples or those with pasts, or occasionally when one person is on the fence about whether or not they want to be having sex. And a large portion of these situations could have been saved had consent been discussed, had both parties taken a second to listen to what the other person wants.
Consent needs to be part of normal conversations. It doesn't matter if you've been together for years or months or weeks or days, asking consent should be second nature. It takes two seconds that could save someone years of confusion and heartache.
