There is something that some people simply don’t understand about sexual assault; from those who are attempting to run our country to the people that we work with, friends and family members, even people in line at the grocery store seem to either be drowning in their silence, or are so deafening in their denial that they drown out the cries for not simply justice, but mere acknowledgement.
What is it about sexual assault that simply doesn’t carry weight? When did ‘rape’ become a hot button word that doesn’t actually mean anything any more? Why is it that some people seem to think that there is something to be gained by being a survivor of sexual assault?
Being a survivor of sexual assault is not a privilege, but receiving justice for the crime that was committed against you sure seems to be. In 2016 only an estimated twenty-three percent of sexual assault crimes were reported. I do not feel privileged to be a part of that twenty-three percent. I did not receive a prize for being one in three individuals who reported my attacker. There was no award granted to me because my rapist was one of six out of one hundred to be incarcerated.
I shouldn’t have to count myself lucky because I was believed and supported by my loved ones. I shouldn’t have to feel fortunate that I worked with trauma informed, compassionate, dedicated law enforcement and a competent, straightforward legal team. From beginning to its legal end, my nightmare lasted approximately ten months. And while it’s been almost two and a half years since the night I was assaulted, I am reminded every single day, every where I go, that I am one of the ‘fortunate’ because my rapist is behind bars.
My attacker is not on the national news, he doesn’t hold an office, nor did he have money to try and buy my silence. But I see him every time I go online, look at a newspaper, or connect with another survivor. We are not few and far between; we are in every neighborhood, every school, every office, every store, on every street and there are more and more of us by the day.
Where as those of us whom are not even enough to be considered a conquest, are discarded without even a seconds thought as to what our name is or was. We do not have the privilege of going back to back to our lives as if nothing has changed. Our own bodies become a constant reminder of how we failed, how we brought this on ourselves, or that we simply didn’t matter enough to be listened to, that we weren’t, aren’t real people, that we are so much less than those who attacked us because we must have done something to earn this violation.
These are just the lies that we are fed from the time we are young, these are the lies that come with the shame and fear and desperate desire to have a reason for what happened to us. Because it is proven, over and over and over again that the only reason we were attacked, was because of the decision that our attackers have made. But that’s not good enough, is it? Just like we are not good enough to be believed, even when we arrive in numbers, with the same stories, the same bruises, the same cry for help. Why aren’t we good enough?
It’s not enough that we are reminded daily, even hourly of our experience through every piece of media that comes our way. Many of us will spend the rest of our lives working through our experiences, spending hundreds of thousands of dollars on our mental and emotional health while our abusers spend their money forgetting we ever existed.
And what about the men? Where are all of the men who are the partners, the parents, the friends, the coworkers of survivors? Where is their outrage? Where is their voice? Why do we never hear from those whose loved one(s) are survivors?
Do not mistake me. I am not here to call out those who have survived, who are surviving that are not speaking out - because you should not have to. You, nor anyone else should ever be pushed into a position to bare their scars and relive their trauma to convince anyone of anything. And yet we have to, don’t we? We aren’t even given that choice. It’s the price we must pay for a glimpse of a glimmer of potential justice, and that is what most of us ever see.
Because the men and women who have been elected to protect and promote our interests and our safety as occupants of this country have already had their silence purchased by companies who profit off of the crimes committed against the very constituents who put them in a position of power to begin with.
When we have a self-proclaimed ‘pussy grabber’ as our nation’s leader, who then in turn has the ability to appoint others like him - those who disregard others, who put not even a sliver of an ounce of remorse, those who hide behind the infamous “I don’t recall…” who believe that their stature, their money, their name will keep them safe - there are no consequences, there’s simply another check to write.
There is no club card, no secret handshake, no password that is provided as a consolation for joining the hundreds of thousands of people who will never not be a survivor again. You can easily look up statistics for yourself, you can read other people’s stories, and I guarantee you that if you are brave enough to ask, that someone you care for has their own experience that they could tell you about.
This is not about political parties, this is not about money, this is not about getting fifteen minutes of fame, and this is not about ‘ruining men’s lives.’ This is about perceived entitlement, this is about apprehended privilege, this is about the lack of accountability, this is about doing the right thing and proving that justice is equal to impartiality not a skin color or an oversized wallet.
The fact that we are well into the twenty first century and we are still allowing for mistakes of generations past is not only deplorable, but it’s heartbreaking. How do we explain to our grandchildren and their children that we couldn’t seem to find a way to fix a clearly damaged system? I suppose we could tell them it was because we were simply too busy playing golf.
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