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.

This is America

I am ashamed, appalled, angry - I am every fiery feeling there could be towards the treatment of women in America. Guns are regulated less than my body. A rapist has more rights than I do when it comes to keeping me safe.

It’s 2019 and I am exhausted.

I’m exhausted from explaining to other people that as a human being, I am the only person who should have the right to decide what happens to my own body.

I am unable to form sentences anymore to explain why we need to teach men more about sexual assault.

Women are the strongest human beings on the planet.

And yet we are the most regulated people in the world. Regulated by men who can never possibly understand anything about how we exist.

What I’d like to say about abortion is that no matter what law you make, abortion will occur. You cannot ban abortion. That is impossible. What you’re doing is compromising women’s healthcare and if you are “pro life (ridiculous term)” you are not supporting life when you oppose abortion. You are simply privileged enough that this does not affect you. No uterus? No opinion. Not one say in this except, your body, your choice. I would like to loudly, proudly, without caveat say that if I choose in my life to ever have an abortion, I will do so. Without shame, without hesitation, without remorse. And I will not allow anyone in my world to bully me because of that. You support me, or you are not in my life. End of story. What is best for my body and my life, will forever be what is my guiding light.

I’d like to say a little more about sexual assault because although I didn’t report it back then, I will not shut up about it now. The most basic rule of life is to keep your hands to yourselves. And yet we are in a time that there is every excuse in the book for men to blatantly refuse this rule. We blame the women. We blame beer. We put people in the highest office in the land and we shame the victim. It is unacceptable and it is inhumane. My rapist most likely does not consider what he did rape. He probably doesn’t think about it. Probably never did think about it as anything but a drunken night of sex with a cute girl in college. I wasn’t drunk. I remember and I think about it all of the time. I think about it when I am alone with a man I don’t know. I think about it the first time I am intimate with a man I do know. I think about it at work. I think about it in a crowd. I think about it when I cannot sleep. I think about it when I am unable to commit to a relationship with someone. I think about it when I tell people that I am a survivor. I never not think about it.

I am in therapy and yet I still consider myself a little bit broken, damaged packaging even because I am a survivor. For years, I called myself a victim. The thing is, had I reported 15 years ago, I am 100% confident my life would have been worse. I would have been put in the spotlight, forced to relive what I went through. Questioned, shamed for my sexual history. I don’t know if I could have survived that, I don’t know if I would have wanted to. I don’t know who would have believed me.

You think women are not capable of handling decisions around our own bodies? We certainly handle the decisions you force upon us every single day as survivors. I have been attacked at knife point, raped, harassed about the shape of my curves because I’m too sexual looking, hit by a boyfriend; and I am here. I am surviving, thriving, and I am fighting back. I am the ONLY person who can handle the decisions that come with the body I was born with.

The absolute bottom line here is that my body is my choice. At all times. And there is no law that should ever be able to compromise my rights to that body.

The Story Continued...

Telling my sexual assault story was something I went back and forth on for a really long time.  It’s something that was really hard for me to share. I don’t enjoy talking about any part of it and I don’t think I owe anyone any part of it. It’s my story. My experience. And mine to deal with however I see fit.

But I also have a strong voice. And I’m an advocate for speaking up when it can help someone else. A lot of you reached out to me to offer support and share with me your stories. And for that reason, I want to continue the discussion.

I want to emphasize that in no way should me feeling the need to keep talking make you feel that I believe it’s the only way to do this. To survive is always enough. You get to choose how/when/if you share your story – and with whom to share it. I simply feel I can talk about it more and I want to. For my own selfish healing, and because I hope that even one person reads this and feels a connection that could help them.

I still haven’t shared my detailed story with anyone. I’ve shared pieces. And I think that’s the way it will always be.

While I understand talking about the physical act and the horrific nature of what happens can be a really eye-opening way to show just how awful sexual assault is; I choose to focus on the lasting mental effects.

Certainly the physical effects can be extensive. But what a lot of people don’t know is that experiencing sexual assault never leaves you. You don’t forget about it. You heal, but you don’t magically cease to have that part of you exist. It lives with you long after everyone else has forgotten it happened. And it comes back to you when you least expect it.

For me it shows up in my anxiety. I’m a bit irrational when it comes to safety. I am always planning an escape and generally suspicious of most situations. I don’t like large crowds. Personal space issues? I think I invented those. I’d definitely attribute these things to not just my assault, but it plays a large part.

Something I’ve noticed since sharing my story is that the people closest to me understand my anxieties just a little bit better. And that makes me feel less anxious. One of the hardest things about living with anxiety is that not everyone understands your triggers. Which in turn, makes your anxiety worse.

I also recently realized how much my confidence was affected by what happened. I lost respect for myself and doubted my value. And I made a lot of choices that weren’t a reflection of what I really wanted for myself. I projected an outward confidence that simply didn’t exist inside me. I hated who I was for a really long time and I allowed the opinions of others control a lot of my perception of myself.

Only recently have I invested in myself to correct my confidence issue. I’ve spent a lot of time and money to go to therapy, journal, reflect – you name it, I’ve tried it. It’s made such a huge difference. I cannot imagine not loving myself ever again. I cannot imagine making decisions to do things I don’t want to do. And I cannot fathom allowing other people’s opinions to dictate what I think of myself.

All that to say – being a survivor of sexual assault makes you a complex person. Even more complex is that no two stories are the same. So, the after effects are not the same. Every story is truly unique. But nothing about is simple. The story doesn’t end when the assault ends.

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?

The Wave

Unless you're living under a rock, you're aware of the wave of sexual harassment and assault allegations in the news.  It seems like every day another high profile man is being accused (and often proven) to be someone who has participated in sexual harassment or assault.  

As someone who has unfortunately experienced both - I feel torn by the number of women and men coming forward.  

I am proud of the victims for coming forward.

I am relieved we are talking about something that is not uncommon.

I cringe because I know the pressure on these victims to prove what they have gone through

I am scared that most likely, some of these accusers are lying and thus setting the rest of us back.

I have been a victim of sexual harassment and sexual assault.  More than once.  While I am more comfortable discussing the sexual harassment I have faced both in my daily life and at the office, I haven't even talked about the assault to my family.  I did not report it.  I still do not feel comfortable talking about it.  And I am not alone.

I've worked in sports most of my life.  I'm generally at home in environments that are a little less business formal and a little more frat party.  It takes a lot to offend me.  And it's damn near impossible to make me feel uncomfortable.  

But when I am confronted at my hotel room by a drunk colleague, sent sexual text messages by the President of my company, and had my chest grabbed at a bar - I feel violated.  

When I am told to wear a low cut top to a meeting with all men, that the best part about watching me at practice is my boobs bouncing, and having a deal fall through because I wouldn't go out with the owner - I feel devalued.  

Sexual harassment, the PTSD from it, the stress of having to relive it - to prove it happened - to explain why it is a big deal - it's all very real.  

The fear of when to come forward, how to come forward, what's going to happen when you do - it's all very real.

A lot of being a victim is feeling things in waves.  You feel shame.  You question your experience.  You feel brave enough to speak up.  You feel fear for what that results in.  You feel proud for standing up for your worth.  You feel everything.  It's highs and lows and everything in between.  I haven't gotten off of that wave yet, I'm not sure I ever will.

For once, I'm not here to prove a point.  I don't aim to change anyone's mind.  If you don't believe in the seriousness of sexual harassment - if you don't understand the defining principle behind sexual assault - I cannot help you.  If the battle you choose to fight is to prove these women wrong when the evidence shows otherwise - there's not much hope for you to begin with.  

I don't know what my driving message is or my call to action.  I haven't been able to tell my entire story nor heal from how that story has changed my path, who am I to provide anyone with a solution?  I'll leave you with this -- 

Keep your hands to yourself.  If it feels wrong, it is.  If you have to justify your actions, they were wrong.

Raise your tiny humans to do better, be better, and act better.  Challenge yourself to be kinder, respect each other more, and listen to learn.  Choose to surround yourself with people who value human decency, challenge the status quo, and force you to leave others better than you found them.

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.