Speak Up

I am so obsessed with David Letterman’s Netflix show in which he interviews various prominent personalities in the world. I recently watched the episode with Ellen in which she so candidly spoke about her childhood trauma being sexually abused at the hands of her stepfather. The thing that stuck with me most was when she talked about women not having a voice.

So often we are made to feel small. We can’t speak up because we are too bossy. We must smile and offer opinions, but nothing too over the top. It’s okay to dismiss a romantic advancement but don’t be too pushy or you’re not that pretty anyways. Women are constantly taught to stay in our lane or be knocked off the track.

I’m a confident, very opinionated - woman. And yet there are still many times in which I have to stop and question when I should speak up. How much I should say. The tone I take. First and foremost for my own physical safety. But also because how I respond matters. It matters in relationships, at work, in public - how I use my voice is scrutinized in every setting simply because I am a woman.

Some people wonder why we are now having so many women speak up about sexual harassment and assault. They say we have to be making it up because how is this “all the sudden” happening everywhere we turn? Men are “afraid” to be around women at work and in bars because they “don’t want to be accused of being a bad guy.”

This stuff isn’t new. It’s been happening for hundreds of years. We just haven’t been able to use our voices to say stop. We have been belittled to the point of questioning whether or not we did make something a big deal. Maybe we were mistaken. Sure it was bad but I’m okay now so is it really that big of a deal? We talk ourselves out of feeling offended or taken advantage of or abused because we don’t get the voice that men do in life.

When people in the spotlight come forward, when everyday women use their voices to say no more, women collectively get to raise our voices. We get to all feel like it’s okay to speak a little louder. Turn up the volume on the representation.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, America was not built for women. Women are not mentioned anywhere in the Constitution. And so society as we know it was not built to keep women in mind. We don’t get a voice according to the forefathers.

Women were not given a voice in the world. And so we started out silent. But we are finding our voices now. And I sure as hell hope we continue to turn the volume up.

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.