A Broken Community

-



 In 2018, I was raped by a local member in the kink lifestyle.  I remember sitting on the gravel in my friends driveway not feeling anything.  Feeling everything that just happened. I never thought what happened after that night would ever happen. 


I was told by my friends that it was my fault. I was told that because I didn’t use my safe word, safe call, or safe text it was my fault. I consented to it all.  I was told because I came, I enjoyed it.  I was told so many things. Some of them I thought were my friends. One of them was someone I dated. They all made me feel like I deserved what happened to me.  


A friend of mine alerted the community about who it was that raped me. The messages began to flood in.  From people all over the community who were leaders. I was learning my story was getting out there and I wasn’t really sharing it.  That’s not what hurt.  What hurt the most was how the community treated me. Especially the male community.


I had a leader get all of my abusers information and mine. Instead of hiding my identity it was spread to 60 plus local community leaders from all over the state. My real name and my community name were now out there. There was nothing I could do.  I now had 30 plus leaders contact me about my accusations towards this abuser. 


Several times I heard “did you file a police report?”  When I said “no” my story was no longer reliable. Just because I didn’t have a police report, it was my fault and I consented to it.  I was asked if I had a rape kit. I would tell them I didn’t do one. This was all due to my personal reasons of not doing it. 


Some of the men in this community believe if you don’t have a rape kit, if you don’t have a police report, then you consented to it.  Some of these members I looked up too.  I know longer look up to those members. I have lost a respect for a lot of them.


Here I am faced in a situation where a friend of mine is dealing with shit. I was asked again “was there a rape kit? Was there a police report?”  Of course the answer was no.  Did she deserve it?  Did she allow it because she didn’t get those things done?  The answer is no, she isn’t in the wrong. 


What makes things worse is when I heard “did you say no?” In my case I pushed them off several times before, before they continued.  Yet, because i laid there silent I didn’t verbally say no, that I consented.  


Coerced sex is rape.  Manipulating someone is rape, gaslighting them into sex is rape. Unless it’s a yes and talked about yes, it’s rape.  I heard these from people I trusted and I thought had my back. I lost a lot of friends due to this.


I lost friends in and out of a community when I shared my story in 2018.  I didn’t understand what I did so wrong. I then began to question everything I did.  I question that whole night.  I questioned everything I did that lead me to the situation.


I felt like I was going crazy. Had to keep reliving the event every time someone reached out. I had to walk away from the community I loved so much. This all was between June and July 2018. 


By September of 2018 things escalated in my world. I found the courage to write about the rape in detail and posted it publicly. I was told to take it down by my abuser. He said I wanted it and liked it.  From September to December I fought in court to get an order of protection. So I felt some sort of safety. 


I’m now watching my friend go through this pain, people telling her it’s her fault, and she is crumbling. All I want is to love on her. The community who turned on me is now turning on her.  This is a community that was supposed to feel safe. 


What people don’t understand is that they can twist the rape into something dirty for the victim. It’s always about the abuser it seems like and how to protect them. All the victim wants to hear is that it’s not their fault.  


I’m tired of men in the community treating us victims like shit. I’m tired of hearing how it’s our fault or we deserved this. I’m tired of men thinking that consent is coerced. I’m just tired of men never listening or taking our side. It’s even worse when it’s suppose to be a community and community leaders treating you this way.


Consent is a yes

Consent isn’t coerced

Consent isn’t forced upon you 

Consent isn’t given when you are under the influence

Consent isn’t given when the person shoves your hands away from them. 

Consent isn’t given when they lay there silent 

Consent isn’t given when they are crying 

Consent has to be a YES

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Hard Year

-
  7 months ago, in August 2023, my world changed forever. My mom got rushed to the hospital. The words I never thought I’d hear come from the medical responders “she has a-fib.” Growing up around paramedics most of my life, I knew that wasn’t a good sign for my mom to be in. That was pretty much the last time she was home.  Four weeks in the hospital, followed by two weeks of rehab. Ok great she can be released. The last week in September she came home on a Saturday. By Monday she was rushed back to the hospital for a-fib again. Another two weeks in the hospital and off to rehab again. This time she was in a nursing home rehab. That is where she has stayed. She hasn’t come home. She continues to battle this.  I sat in the primary’s office this past Monday. She asked me how my mental health was doing. I checked in and said therapy was hard. I let it all go. The tears came flooding down. From a hard day at work and therapy.  I couldn’t contain it anymore.  As the tears streamed dow
Read more

9-1-1 and Dispatch

-
  I have learned if you have PTSD and not an actual emergency in my area, no one will be called out. Due to a recent event my daughter, who is 20 and autistic, called 911.  My daughter stated someone hit my car with their bike, the man was yelling at us, and I was in a panic attack.  Due to no injury, there was nothing dispatch could do.   Let’s back up a little bit to 2016. In 2016 I actually hit a pedestrian. I broke their femur and they had some bumps and bruises too. They survived thankfully. It took years before I could finally accept the fact that she was fine and I needed to let go of the guilt I was carrying around with me.  Fast forward back to May 14th. My daughter wasn’t on her phone. She always pay attention to our surroundings while I drive. She knows living on campus that people are stupid. This time was no different. She let me know there was a bike pulling out of our subdivision as I was pulling in. I swerved just a little bit and stopped. The bike then swerved into
Read more

Anxiety, PTSD, and Ticks Oh My!

-
  My fingers tapping in the air as if I am playing a piano. My mind is racing. I can see the sirens, the person on the ground. tap tap tapping in the air the flashback continues to when I hit someone. The rush of anxiety and PTSD rushes over me like a wave. An unstoppable wave crashing. Unable to stop the waves. tapping continues I wonder if this will ever stop, this tick I have developed.  The year was 2016.  When I hit a 75 year old lady named Bonnie (name changed for identification purposes). I remember the blaring of the sirens that came flooding down the streets. Her lying on the ground. Me yelling at people not to move her.  This day has been engraved in my head. This day is when I developed my first tick.  As the years progressed I learned how to control it. I learned what worked and what didn’t. I learned some meds helped.  Even some fidgets worked. I had this down. Occasionally, I’d have a moment of flashback and my tapping would start. It would look like I was playing the key
Read more