Know Her Name

Before #MeToo began, there was the Brock Turner case. If you’re unfamiliar with this case, get familiar with it. This case impacted me greatly. And it’s a huge reason I chose to speak out about my own experience. Because we had not jumped into the #MeToo movement, there were a lot of really ignorant people yelling about drinking, blaming the survivor, not wanting to “ruin HIS life” - etc. Every bullshit excuse in the book for why this man actively chose to sexually assault this woman. Make no mistake, this man is a rapist and he deserves every punishment that comes with that.

Unfortunately, due to an incompetent judge, he was given such a light sentence that the judge was later voted out of office. This case also led to sentencing minimums. Perhaps the most powerful part of this entire horrific situation was the survivor’s impact statement.

To this day, the writing, the emotion, everything - it gives me chills. It breaks me down to tears because there are so many moments that I think a lot of sexual assault survivors can relate to. Not to mention how much you can feel her own emotions in every word.

Since 2016, we have not known her name. Rightfully she chose to remain anonymous to heal and to forgo having to deal with the vicious people who blamed her for ruining a “young man’s life.” But now, we know her name.

Chanel Miller.

Chanel has used her trauma to speak up for herself and others. She has written a book that is being released later this month that I cannot wait to read. I know it will be triggering but I want to support this strong woman in her willingness to speak up for not only herself but every woman who has gone through this.

There is nothing more powerful than refusing to let your own traumas determine how they will affect your life. The truth is, these traumatic events do not leave you. You do not wake up one day and forget about them. You heal by deciding to deal with how they made you feel physically and emotionally, and you refuse to let them ruin your life. I truly cannot imagine what this woman has endured. To deal with such a horrifying sexual assault to then have that splashed all over the media, I don’t know if I could do what she’s done.

But every single time a woman stands up for herself, she’s standing up for women everywhere. That means something. We have to continue to speak up, stand up and shake our fists when sexual assault is excused as just boys being boys or we blame alcohol or we blame women who choose to have multiple partners. It has to stop. The problem is and always has been - the culture of allowing sexual assault to take place.

I plan to continue being very loud for myself, for my friends, for women I’ve never met - for Chanel - because the safety of women matters. Respect for women and our bodies matters.

I used to think of myself as a victim of sexual assault. But I grew up, I grew educated and I grew strong. I am not a victim and I never will be. I am a survivor, and advocate and I am a force to be reckoned with.

We all have a story.

More often than not, when I find the courage to say out loud that I am a survivor of sexual assault, there is at least one other woman who says me too.

We all have a story.

My story began in college. I was 18 years old. I never reported it. For over 10 years, I never talked about it.

But it happened. And ignoring it has caused a whole new set of complications.

Every story is different. I want to talk about mine because I wish that I had done so sooner. If only to find other women to help me understand I am not alone.

I'd like to tell my story differently in that I'm not going to tell you what happened. The physical act of what happened makes me cringe to this day. But the emotional consequences of sexual assault are what never leave you. They evolve but they do not ever go away.

The Assault

I vividly remember every second of what happened. It happened in a space I knew as one of the safest place I could be. With a man I considered a friend. I don't remember any pain. I don't remember feeling hurt. I do remember every beat of my heart. I remember feeling frozen. I remember being confused. And after it happened, I remember running to a friends dorm and nothing else. Not one other thing that happened that night. Nothing. I don't know what I said. I don't know if I slept there. I don't remember.

The Days Following

I chose not to report what happened for a myriad of reasons. Fear. Guilt. Shame. Anxiety. I didn't talk about it with anyone. I went to class. I went to practice. I went home. I don't remember being any different outwardly. I don't remember anyone asking me if I was okay. But I also don't remember feeling anything. It's so cliche, but I was numb. I don't remember.

Years Following

For a good number of years afterwards, I lost value for myself. I remember feeling worthless but acting out in a way that said I was the most confident woman on the planet. I hated my body. I hated my curves. I hated anything that felt sexual about who I was. I spent a lot of time trying to regain control of my body and my sexuality and said yes when a lot of times, I was screaming no inside. And now I don't remember any of those times.

Now

I feel an incredible guilt for not reporting what happened. I wonder if he's hurt other women. I wonder if that's my fault. I am ashamed that I am so vocal about women's rights and yet I said nothing, to anyone. Who am I to say tell your story, fight back? I didn't.

I see stories like Brock Turner and I feel angry. I read the victim statement and thought to myself, you are not alone. And you are so brave.

I feel fear. I don't like enclosed spaces. I am constantly on guard when I'm in a room full of men. In every situation, I have usually formulated a worst case scenario and a plan for how to escape. When I meet men, I wonder if they only see me for my body.

And I feel ashamed and frustrated because it's been over 10 years and I can't let it go. I can't NOT remember.

I'm shaking right now because I don't want my family to read this. I don't want men to see me as broken because of this.

The truth is, we all have a story. And that story, no matter how hard we try, it can define us for years to come. For me, this isn't the end. I get to write that ending because my story isn't just this one chapter.

If I can offer any advice to those of you who love survivors of assault, it's to love without judgment. Let your person come to you. Listen to whatever they choose to share with you and support them. There is no right way to survive. To survive is enough.

If you are a survivor, I am sorry you're part of this club. I am proud of you for surviving. However you choose to do that, I'm proud of you and I believe in your ability to be stronger because of it.

We all have a story. When do we finally make those stories about stopping the villain?

Quite frankly, women are shown that we don't matter because of how these assaults are handled. The rate in which they occur. We don't matter because men think its okay to grab us in bars. We don't matter because consent is grey. We don't matter because convicted rapists are given a slap on the wrist and a "he's a good guy though."

Our safety, comfort, space - they don't matter.

When we speak up, we have to prove it. We are called dramatic. We are asking for it.

The culture of sexual assault has gotten so out of control that we all have a story.

We all have a story because nobody speaks up. Nobody steps in and says stop. Nobody says I believe you and I'm so sorry. Nobody says this shouldn't have happened and we will fight for you. Nobody says actually that's not okay and there needs to be punishment. Nobody says this can't happen, let's stop it.

Not enough people have said sexual assault is happening and these women matter.

My story is now making sure that I matter. That you matter. And that the women who will face this in the future matter.

We all have a story. What's yours going to be?

Keep Your Hands to Yourself.

Once again, I would like to talk about the most basic of human decencies.  A rule that we are taught from a very young age yet many have a hard time following.  Keep your hands to yourself.

Recently I went out to a bar in Dallas.  I was on the phone on the patio when a man felt it would be okay to run by, grab my butt and leave.  Whether he was drunk or not, it was entirely inappropriate and an incredibly big deal. I reacted in the most furious way and instead of apologizing, this man hid behind a car and giggled about how he just violated me. 

You can call it harmless, a drunk immature frat boy acting like a jerk.  You can call me a prude, you can say I overreacted.  You would be wrong.  Excusing this kind of behavior is encouraging it.  Refusing to take it seriously is how we've gotten ourselves to a rape culture mentality.  It's how some people call Brock Turner "a nice guy who did something stupid."  And it's why women are afraid and ashamed to report instances of sexual assault and rape.  Because we are told "it's not a big deal."  We are made to feel bad for the things that happen to us.  And that's how the cycle continues. 

I'm tired of excusing anything.  Unless you have permission to touch me, don't.  Male or female, keep your hands to yourself.  It's a basic form of respect and its a lesson we all need to keep in mind.

A trend recently is for bars to create a safe space for women.  They put signs in the restroom that give women instructions for how to discreetly and safely ask for help when they're in an uncomfortable situation.  As much as its extremely sad we have gotten to this point, I applaud the establishments who choose to create safe enjoyable environments for all.  I'm so sick of going to bars and restaurants to enjoy time with friends only to be touched inappropriately or "by accident."  And I won't be quiet about it.  I will not dumb down my reaction to make YOU comfortable. 

Ladies (and gentlemen because you deserve respect too) - don't let anyone touch you without your permission.  Do not brush it off.  Do not make excuses and do not feel stupid.  Nobody has the right to make you feel unsafe or uncomfortable.  And its up to all of us to speak up and call others out on their behavior.  Without that - we will continue to live in a world that accepts rape culture.

 I don't owe anyone an explanation for how I react when someone touches me without my consent.  It's not funny, it's not harmless, and its not welcome.  Call me a bitch, call me dramatic, call me whatever you want - as long a you keep your hands to your damn self.