This is the scariest blog I have ever written. It's been floating around in my head for months, but it's never actually come together.
I think that will surprise a lot of people. I am one to be open about my past and present. I have no trouble telling people that I have battled and eating disorder or that I have extremely mild cerebral palsy. And I feel the need to share this story for the same reason I have shared the others: 1) to shed light on a topic that is misunderstood by so many, especially given recent happenings in the news, and 2) to give God the glory for what He has done in my life. The catch is, when you tell someone you were born with mild cerebral palsy or that you are recovered from disordered eating, no one in their right mind will look at you and say, "It's all your fault."
Coming out as a sexual assault survivor is another story.
We've all heard at least one of the comments, either referring to a news story or someone we know personally. "She shouldn't have been drinking." "He was asking for it." "Why was she walking alone at night?" In some cases, like mine, the comments might be more marginalizing than blaming. "Well, that happens to everybody at some point, it's no big deal." "Poor boys these days, can't do anything without being accused of something." "He was just a kid, how could he have known better? You're making a big deal out of nothing."
Recently, many women I know have come out as fellow assault survivors, including members of my own family. I have messaged them privately to thank them and tell them I can relate, but it's taken me many attempts to actually put my own story out there. In some ways, it doesn't feel like my experience "counts." It was a child-on-child assault; I was 8 years old and he was maybe ten or eleven. I honestly didn't realize what was happening until after the fact, when a witness (the same age as my perpetrator) accused, "You had SEX with him!"
For the next three years, I carried my secret. Between the shame that always comes after an assault and the "purity culture" of the 90's that taught that premarital sex was borderline unforgivable (yes, this was ground into me as early as grade school), I was convinced there was no way I could ever tell anyone what had happened without being ostracized for the rest of my life. Because I hadn't understood what was happening until after the fact, I hadn't said, "No," or "Stop," - because I hadn't refused what he was doing, then I must have given him my consent and therefore I was guilty. My perpetrator moved away and all contact was lost, but his peer who had witnessed the event continued to use it to blackmail me, threatening to spread the word if I didn't submit to their wishes. Thankfully, they never demanded anything sexual from me, but I found myself in plenty of humiliating situations, taking the blame for something they had done. I felt like a helpless puppet, controlled by a five-minute incident in my past, with no hope of escape- surely, not even God could hear my cries for help when I had committed such an atrocity.
But God heard my cries. In fifth grade, I confided my story to a classmate who turned out to be one of the truest friends I have ever known. I told her the story from the perspective of my own guilt, trying to explain that it had been "an accident," but somehow, at age 11, she was able to hear what had really happened. Even though I swore her to secrecy, she took a great risk (knowing how mean 5th-grade girls could be when one betrayed another) and told our guidance counselor what I had told her. On the last day of 5th grade the counselor came into our classroom, where I was cleaning out my desk, and asked me to come with her. Once we were inside her office, the first words she said to me were, "[Classmate] told me that someone hurt you three years ago, and you are afraid to tell anyone." I burst into tears of relief at her words. "Hurt you." Not, "You have a confession you need to make," or "You feel bad about something you did." Someone acknowledged that I had been hurt.
My counselor contacted my parents (who were horrified and heartbroken for me) and referred all of us to a community counselor, and we began taking steps toward healing. The peer witness eventually reached a level of maturity where they could see the seriousness of what had happened, and we were able to come to reconciliation. I have no idea where my perpetrator is, and I have no desire to find out (and I trust my readers to respect that).
My guidance counselor, the community counselor, and my parents were all wonderfully supportive of me through the healing process, but there was no magic moment when everything was "gone." There were many reasons why I slipped into an eating disorder and was treated for anxiety, but I know that the shame and fear I felt after the assault were major factors. Even writing this story brings back dark memories that will probably never go away completely on this side of eternity. But, it's a story that needs to be told.
To anyone who has, works with, volunteers with, or cares about children, I beg you: listen when a child complains that someone else is bothering them. I'm a teacher and I've spent many years volunteering in children's ministry at church; believe me, I know it's tiring to listen to tattling. But if a child complains of intentional unwanted touching, it's not something they can be told to "just ignore" or "tell them to stop." Children need to understand that their bodies are their own, and that they can count on trusted adults to defend them when others won't respect their boundaries. The children who are doing the touching need to understand the seriousness of their actions. We keep saying "teach rapists not to rape," but is anyone actually telling children that they must leave someone else alone when told to do so (and enforcing the teaching with appropriate consequences)?
Parents, your children need to know the difference between "fighting" (intended to hurt or get revenge on someone) and "self-defense" (doing what you need to do to escape an unsafe situation)- and they also need to understand that, if they cannot defend themselves or find someone else to protect them, they are innocent victims, not failures. They need to understand the difference between affectionate or guiding touch, or an honest accident, and touch that is abusive. And they need to hear this from you- we teachers will try to talk about it, we might bring in a police liaison or guidance counselor to talk about it, but it won't have the same effect coming from us. Your children need to know to come to you if anyone- stranger, friend, man, woman, adult, child- does something or even says something inappropriate, they can tell you, and they need to know you won't ask, "Why did you...?" or "Why didn't you...?" They "did" or "didn't" because someone took advantage of their innocence and betrayed their trust. Save your anger for the ones who deserve it.
Finally, to those who are living in the shameful shadow of sexual assault, I share my story to let you know, there is hope for healing. There are people who care, who will listen if you start speaking. There are people who specifically chose to study ways to help you and make careers out of it, not for the money or prestige, but because they care. And there is a God who loves you, who sees you as worth dying for, even when you see yourself as worthless. There is a Savior who knows what it feels like to carry guilt when you are innocent- He has carried the sin and shame of the entire world to the cross.
How public you go with your story is your choice. What kinds of legal action you take or what kinds of care you receive are your choice. But, please, don't suffer in silence- don't believe the lie that you are at fault or that you deserve the pain you feel. Come out from behind that shadow- myself and others who have been there will be there for you, on the other side.
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