A crisis kept quiet.

I've been on the hunt for more blogs that are my niche- be that D.C. area, women's interest, progressive politics, or international health -- I'm hungry. I came across one mentioned in Utne magazine today (feminism 2.0 article) feministing.com

I immediately read the second story (as of now) regarding an op-ed ran in the LA Times entitled "What rape crisis?" 2/25/08. After reading this piece, the op ed, the source article, and all 92 comments on feministing I was prompted to write the following. It is personal, real, raw, and well quite frankly, not something I've shared like this before.

A far too common tale- any college campus, any semester.
I have a personal story that may help the doubters out there; and I invite victim advocates to use as an example. I am a strong willed woman, not a victim or passive by any stretch of the imagination. In college, I maintained a stellar academic record and balanced extracurriculars. I helped found a national advocacy organization and participated in everything from marching band to student government.

I made the decision when I turned 18 to no longer engage in sexual intercourse until marriage (Sure, I was pressured into that decision when I was 11 by my church, but I finally felt like it was the right decision for me in my religious walk, and my high school boyfriend wholeheartedly supported that decision). Jump ahead three years to when I was spending a semester studying in a different city: I became the unthinkable 1 in 4 victim.

I had two male peers escort me back to campus from an off-campus party. I knew them from the cafeteria and conversations in the dorms. We were what you would consider casual acquaintances. Back on campus after the party, we shared wine and other drinks- and I became pretty intoxicated quickly (I wasn't a big drinker, and I had the false security of being in my dorm room). One of my male friends hung around- (where was my roommate? I ask now)and eventually led me down one stop on the elevator to his room. I don't remember agreeing to go with him or how he convinced me it would be a good idea at midnight on a school night to go hang out in his room. I don't remember that part- and the next thing I do remember is horrifying. He was holding me down by the chest and what I considered then as having sex with me. Coming to at that point was frightening. I didn't know what to do- it was dark, I was confused, I tensed up and stayed quiet. I waited for him to fall asleep and then slipped out of the room at some point in the night. As I was leaving- I noticed his roommate asleep in the bed no more than 6 feet away.(How did he not hear anything- was he used to this?)

I didn't call a rape crisis center or go to the police. Why? Looking back I think I blamed myself. I walked away from this encounter and blamed the alcohol and my foolishness for getting into such a situation. I called a couple girlfriends that morning and tried to describe what happened- and they didn't call it rape either.

The next couple times I saw him- I tensed up, felt a rush of adrenaline, and was so embarrassed. Then I figured, I messed up- I ruined my vow of celibacy- what does it matter and tried to make things right by talking to the guy. I thought if I tried to develop a relationship with him it would make it somehow ok, and take away the shame- that if this guy wanted to have me as a girlfriend and exercised poor judgment that once that it could be forgiven. Instead, I wound up engaging in a sexual act a couple weeks later and feeling even worse about the situation afterwards.

I immediately fell into depression- I gained 30 pounds in 3 months and felt so alone- yet I didn't know why. It took 6 months for me to realize that my experience was rape. (sparked by a print story on an Afghani woman gang raped during the war I had an emotional outburst and cried for days- somehow I realized that pain and unfairness struck a chord deep within me). You see, I always thought rape was a physically violent act and you would most likely die from it. Apparently, my closest girlfriends thought that too. Once I realized that it was rape, I sought counseling- and started to piece my life back together. After researching more and talking to more of my peers bluntly about it- I found a handful of my friends who had been raped or otherwise assaulted- a few of them spoke out at events like "Take back the night", a couple were pressing charges, but most shrugged and said it's a part of life that we have to deal with-- and many more didn't even consider drunken encounters with little recollection and no consent as assault and rape. When I finally told my mother what had happened she blamed the alcohol and said that is a part of life. She too has been misled and quite possibly had a similar experience to respond so coldly (when my mother would usually threaten anyone's life who hurt me).

In summary- though I am an intelligent, strong woman I was victimized and raped by an acquaintance and did not consider it rape at first. I did not have a working definition that occurs in reality- I did not have the resources or tools to combat the violence taken out against me or the support system to overcome it. Now, 4 years later I am able to say that the rape experience does not define me and I am so much more than that- and I am finally at a point where I think sharing my story- though it is still painful, embarrassing, and not the "physical violent" rape you see on CSI, but I believe my story is more common than pop culture's perpetuated misleading definition of and about rape.