The emotions can be overwhelming: powerlessness, numbness, denial, guilt, embarrassment, fear, anxiety, hostility, and most of all, anger. These feelings consumed me on December 23, the day I became a victim of sexual assault.
Society often suggests that drinking, wearing revealing clothing, or walking alone at night can make someone vulnerable to assault. This narrative unfairly places blame on the victim, but my experience tells a different story. On that fateful day, I was dressed in comfortable, loose-fitting flared jeans and a long-sleeved blue shirt that covered me well.
The memories are haunting. The school, a place I once considered safe, transformed into the backdrop of my worst nightmare. It was supposed to be a day of joy, the last before winter break, as I led my first anti-bullying campaign—a movie day that raised $300 for Know Resolve, an organization dedicated to preventing youth suicides. Yet, all that positivity was overshadowed by the horror that followed.
The perpetrator was someone I thought I could trust, a friend since ninth grade. In the control booth of the school auditorium, I was filled with anticipation for the event to begin. Instead, I found myself trapped. “Break up with your boyfriend. I will treat you better,” he said as he overpowered me, forcing me against a table. I felt helpless, scared, and unable to speak. I was no longer just a victim of bullying; I was now a victim of sexual assault.
I wanted to scream, to fight back, to have my friend beside me intervene. Yet, I felt paralyzed, my voice lost in the moment. Afterward, instead of helping, my friend escalated the situation by confronting the principals. In that moment, my nightmare became a reality.
“He admitted he was wrong, but it’s your choice. If you go to the police, we will suspend him. If not, we won’t.” Why was it left to me to decide? I was the one who had suffered, yet the decision seemed to rest in the hands of school authorities concerned more about their reputation than my well-being.
Weeks later, when my parents were finally informed, I witnessed my father’s tears for the first time. The outcome? A mere one-day suspension for my assailant—an injustice that was only escalated to five days due to my mother’s fierce intervention with the school administration. This was a battle I never wanted to fight.
I couldn’t bear the thought of returning to that school. When I made the decision to transfer, the principal reduced my course load to just three classes. My senior year, which should have been filled with joy and cherished memories, became a shadow of what it could have been. I cried more than I smiled, haunted daily by reminders of that day.
Prom was cut short for me because everywhere I turned, I felt his presence looming. I needed to escape. The legal proceedings that followed only served to drag me back to that traumatic day. I couldn’t bring myself to face him in court and ultimately accepted a plea deal for fourth-degree sexual criminal conduct.
No two stories of sexual assault are alike, and each survivor’s journey to healing is unique. It is crucial that we share our experiences and support one another in our struggles. If you’re looking for more information on this topic, check out this resource on sexual assault and its implications at this link.
In summary, the journey of a sexual assault survivor is fraught with complex emotions and challenges that often go unrecognized. We must continue to amplify our voices and ensure that survivors are heard, understood, and supported.