Updated: April 13, 2017
Originally Published: Dec. 21, 2012
Nearly three decades ago, in a distant land, I experienced a traumatic event that haunted me for years. Until recently, only a few trusted individuals were aware of what happened. At the time, I was young and terrified, choosing not to report the incident. My instinct was to escape back home and attempt to forget. If only it had been that simple—it took extensive therapy to finally stop letting that night define my life. Despite my progress, I remained silent.
I didn’t stay quiet because I feared my attacker; luck was on my side, as I returned home soon after the event and didn’t have to worry about encountering him again. The reason for my silence stemmed from the dread of being labeled a victim. I couldn’t bear the thought of being seen as “that girl” for the rest of my life—the stigma was more disturbing than the act itself.
I witnessed this stigma firsthand in high school, and later, in college. I saw the whispers and rumors, the way some girls shuffled through the halls, avoiding eye contact. I refused to be pitied or branded with shame. I wanted to continue my life without being defined by a singular traumatic event. I thought that if I acted as though nothing had occurred, I could live freely.
When allegations against a prominent figure like Bill Cosby surfaced, it triggered reflections on my own silence and its role in perpetuating rape culture. I realized that my choice to remain silent didn’t just allow my attacker to evade justice; it also isolated other survivors. This silence feeds a vicious cycle: the culture of shame silences victims, and the more we stay quiet, the more rampant rape becomes. Isn’t it time we change this narrative? If we can dismantle the stigma and stop defining individuals solely by their experiences with assault, we might see a rise in reporting and a decline in rape culture.
Thus, after twenty-nine years, I’m reclaiming my voice.
I am not defined by my past. That night is just one of countless memories I hold, and it does not encapsulate who I am. Please don’t allow that experience to alter your perception of me.
- I am a mother.
- A wife.
- A lawyer.
- A friend.
- A daughter.
- A sister.
- An aunt.
- An occasional blogger.
- A curator of cozy cardigans.
- An unapologetic user of colorful language.
- An enthusiastic cook, even if my children refuse to eat what I make.
- A budding surfer.
- A sleep-training expert.
- A notorious houseplant killer.
- An underperforming Pinterest enthusiast.
I embody all these roles, but I refuse to be silent any longer.
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Summary:
This article reflects on a woman’s journey of reclaiming her voice after being a victim of rape nearly three decades ago. Despite the trauma she endured, she chose silence out of fear of stigma rather than fear of her attacker. The realization that her silence perpetuated a culture of shame led her to speak out, urging others to break their silence and redefine themselves beyond their traumatic experiences.
Keyphrase: personal empowerment after trauma
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