getting raped eventually sucks less

It's been five years since I got raped, which sucked.

But it sucks less than it did then. Partially in a "time heals all wounds way," and partially in a "SUCK ON THIS, RAPE!" way.

I think about it fleetingly every day, and I wish I didn't have to deal with that. Some days I think about it a lot. I talked about the details with someone today, and it made me shake.

Rape is a lack of power, autonomy, respect, humanity.

Fuck that! Now I use rape to make me more powerful.

I reached out to other people and gained strength from their numbers. (Turns out everyone's been raped/almost raped/has a sister/friend/roommate who got raped, too.) Rape is a deeply private, personal attack-- it happens within your own body! It doesn't go this way for everyone, unfortunately, but I found tons of support all around me when I started looking. Not everyone was supportive, which cost me some friendships, but some people who weren't even close to me were solid as fuck.

I decided that I'd start looking at the issue of rape more, and that strengthened me, too. Reading about rape lead me to misogyny, rape culture, patriarchy, and a host of other ideas that helped me understand how thousands of men go from innocent infant to rapist. However, understanding did not breed sympathy! I got mad, and now I do whatever I can to punch patriarchy in its face.

Rape can make you feel isolated, but being open about it has made me see how absolutely not isolated each rape is. Shit is systematic. Gaining an understanding of rape-- even when getting raped seems to destroy everything you understood about people, your body, boundaries-- gave me the tools to speak out louder and clearer against rape, rape culture, and all the factors that contribute to it.

Besides friends and reading, yoga and dance also helped me reclaim my body and my sexuality. Yoga speaks for itself-- go to 5 classes and see what happens!

The sassy, witty, sarcastic, smart-as-fuck ladies at Jezebel.com were also a sustaining force in my recovery. They sent a clear, consistent anti-rape message in a language I could understand (sarcasm!) As crazy as it sounds, just being reminded that rape is not OK was crucial for me as I developed an understanding of the issue. It's not like I thought rape was OK beforehand, but my rapist tried to convince me that it was a misunderstanding and that I actually wanted it, and it was very convenient to believe him instead of accepting the truth! Since then I've read countless hilarious articles about the myriad ways that women have their rights, bodies, freedom, and autonomy violated-- besides rape!

Five years later things are looking good for me, and I am infinitely grateful for that. I'm lucky that I have supportive and radical friends (because apparently "rape is bad" is still a radical idea), that I had life goals and was able to take huge steps toward fulfilling them, and that I've been financially stable since then. Many women aren't as lucky. Getting raped made me significantly less emotionally stable in the short term, and it was just luck that I made it here. Many women struggle for years or the rest of their lives to gain back what they lost when they were violated. I don't have a snarky analysis of that; it's just fucking awful.

I still experience post-rape side effects. I haven't had sex since then, which may be a direct result or may just be how I am. (Funny sidenote: after two months of dating, I told a guy I was ready to have sex. I also told him that I could never be his girlfriend. He got mad and cited Martin Buber at me.) Anyway, my sense of "I could get raped" is way heightened. Males probably don't think about this much (that's what male privilege is all about), but I know all the ladies know what I'm talking about. Just being alone in a room with a guy sets off a little alarm deep in my brain. I don't let it control me, but it's there. Looking into the nitty-gritty of rape culture has led me to some pretty ugly things: appalling statistics, revenge porn (exists!), how men silence, oppress, and --wait for it-- rape women on the daily in every conceivable situation-- business, the Internet, literature, on the bus, etc. Some things are triggering for me. That means that otherwise innocuous things (whether relating to rape or not) will cause my brain to flood with cortisol, putting me on edge. At this point those things are fairly predictable, but sometimes they change.

I feel good about where I've come since then. But I'll always (as far as I can tell. Will keep you posted.) carry around a little of the baggage, fear, and cynicism. I'm doing what I can to turn all that rage (because women are allowed to feel rage, btw) into righteous anger, strength, power, and peace. (Stay tuned for the next blog: How to balance righteous anger and peace.)

21st Century Romance

Here are some of the creepy, rude, and abusive messages I get on a dating website that can be found on the Internet. Partially I like to laugh at these guys, but partially I'm brilliant and my scathing wit is wasted on these jackasses. It's only right that I should share it with all 7 billion people on the planet via my blog that has 4 followers. What kind of monster do you think I am?

message from twathammer:

I'm Odyn. 6'5", brown hair, green eyes, fit. Jamaican an Irish. From Berlin an jus came back to Cali. I direct films an also make experimental hip hop. I'm vegan, like to meditate, go to a lot of shows, read a lot. I like surrealist art, travel a lot. You're cute and seem cool. We should get a drink. Whats your week usually like? Can I txt you? 

message from AllGroanUp:

omg, Odyn, are you trying to be the ruler of my Asgard? 

your user name is hilarious but I would never go out with someone who thinks it's a good idea to use twat in their user name for online dating. 

I will give you credit for writing one of the better generic messages, though. You spelled "and" wrong.

 message from twathammer:

I think you misread my sense of humor, I couldn't be particularly crass an I don't have views like that towards women. Like I said it was in my profile, Twathammer is Jesse Pinkmans terrible band in the show "Breaking Bad", which most people seem to get. Cultural roadblock perhaps? I guess I'm saying an ironic reference shouldn't be taken as a sincere political position on my part, despite your knee jerk Bias.

Missed Instant Message(s) from twathammer: 

I think you misread my sense of humour, I couldn't be particularly crass an I don't have views like that towards women

like I said it was Twathammer is Jesse Pinkmans terrible band in the show "Breaking Bad", which most people seem to get. Cultural roadblock perhaps? 

topgunpilotq: hey

me: hi

hey!

so how are you?

you know, same old

oh, is that so.

i work at 24 fitness

i was looking at your profile with a dude i train.

he thought you were cute.

um

its not a bad thing. :)

shouldn't you be working out instead of tag-team cruising for chicks?

we were

he's kind of a nerd

and isn't great with women

so i was trying to help him

so you thought I'd be an appropriate partner for someone who "isn't great with women?"

no, not at all.

he's a nice guy

i thought you maybe able to see past his deficiencies

here's a site about nice guys: https://sites.google.com/site/niceguysofokc/

haha funny read

wonder what FEAT I hve to pull off in order to get ur attention ... hmmm

as long as you're only stroking your chin and nothing else [note to self 1: never make a joke.]

and why did you put "feat" in all caps? 

haaaa ... plz get ur mind out of the gutter there 

jeez, we JUST met ... take it one step at a time shall we :) [oh, maybe it's ok to joke]

fap fap fap [is this taking it too far? does he realize I'm making fun of guys like him creeping all over the internet? YOLO!]

oh sorry 

anyways hows it goin

you know, same old 

talking to randos on the internet

haaa

so r u tellin me u r gonna turn out to be JUST a tease, only chattin n dont wanna meet in person ???

knock knock

[oh fuck no.]

You don't get to call me a tease. You talked to me first, so you can't get all butthurt about how I respond. I don't owe you anything, and I'm certainly not going to meet a guy who is trying to guilt me into doing things I never said I wanted to do.[never make a joke. Never be funny. Never show that you're clever.]

[my sexual harassment is way cuter than his.]



That is impressive to get that many messages but I admit you look good in the bikini.

I wasn't trying to brag, I was trying to say that men are creepy and easily distracted by women's bodies 

easily distracted yes but maybe you can explain how it is creepy? 



Facepalmed: wow

I would so hit that...you are sexy

me: go suck a bag of dicks.

This one isn't really harassment so much as it speaks to the level of pathetic desperation I sometimes encounter. It put a smile on my face! (Which I sometimes do instead of strangling the first 5 men I see and getting my tubes tied so that I never accidentally produce another male.)
My name a Borat. I like sex. I want to make sexy-time romance explosion on your stoh-match.

 message from NogameNodrama:
You seem like an interesting and sophisticated girl. I definitely interested in meeting with you. I am very new in this site and don't know how it entirely works. But I would rather skip few steps and jump into meeting with you. Maybe we should go out for a drink sometime in matter of fact we are living very close by. Maybe pizza and wine at one of your favorite place which could be little star if you like deep dish pizza:) ( If inviting you for a date at the first message is not proper thing to do, excuse my lack of knowledge on online dating gig, I could be really silly sometime. ) hoping to hearing from you soon. 



Hi my name is Avi. I was born in Israel and I lived in Cleveland, Ohio. I am age 30 and I just look at your profile is sound good and so we can talk and respond from you soon. I am waiting to hear from you soon. Please e-mail me back A.S.A.P. 

Avi, you are a creep with no social skills. Your desperate demands for me to respond promptly indicate that you're pushy and aggressive. Please feel free to write me back when you've developed a firm command of English grammar and polite American dating conventions.  

Hi there how are u doing? My English grammar spell good. What u do for fun and I have a family living around in Silicon Valley area. 


I have a picture of myself in a bikini on my OKCupid profile. I'm wearing a floppy hat, standing next to a waterfall. The caption says that a male friend (who was for sure not hitting on me) told me it was hot, so I put it up on OKCupid, where I'm supposed to be convincing males to reproduce with me. Within 30 minutes of posting it, I had 70 views, 7 messages, and 3 chats. I still get comments on it:

RGOTI: your friend's right: it is a hot picture

ME: thanks random guy on the internet

RGOTI: wow ok so you can say it but I can't? lol

it's classy/hot

terrible thing to lead with I guess, sorry

Instead of getting pouty when I shoot him down, this guy tries to keep it positive-- undoubtedly in a further attempt to ..."lay low and relax with some drinks," I suppose..

Hi! you look like fun! I'd love to get to know you more. I think we would get a long really well. We should go on an adventure and explore the city or lay low and relax with some drinks! Do you consider your self more submissive or Dominant? Becuase I am Dominant.

1% Match 23% Friend 50% Enemy

 

Hi Dominant, nice to meet you. Thanks for spotting that I look like fun! What with grad school and teaching middle school, my entire life is one big giggle-fest! I was just wondering why you thought we would get along since it says we're a 1% Match. Also--sorry, it's the English teacher in me--could you explain why you spell "dominant" with a capital "D?" Is that an expression of how dominant you are? 

Wow a sarcastic funny Jew that went to grad school and is an English teacher... I knew I'd like you.
:) 
What are you up to this weekend? 

Lemme holler at you!

I was eleven years old the first time I remember a male making me feel uncomfortable about being female. I used to wait at the bus stop at Gilman and San Pablo, and I remember a white pickup truck with three men in the cab stopped at a red light, and they all looked at me. They could probably see my skinny little girl legs because it was summer and I was wearing shorts. I remember putting on my toughest don't-fuck-with-me face. Sorry that I haven't been keeping track since then, but I'd like to start now. When men stare at you, yell at you, manage to "bump" into you even when there's plenty of room, strike up a conversation with you when you're reading and have ear phones in and clearly don't want to have a conversation, ask for your number, comment on your appearance, or suggest sexual escapades they'd like to pursue with you, they're letting you (and everyone else) know that men are allowed to think and say whatever they want about your body, and there's nothing you can do about it. At the end of the day, most of us lady-folk understand that responding to harassment almost always increases it. Better to be yelled at than groped; better to be groped than raped. Rape and rape culture is at the heart of harassment. There have been many times over the past 15 or so years since I've hit puberty (and even a few before then) when I wondered if I was about to get raped. I have the feeling that no matter how drunk, obnoxious, or aggressive I've been, no one has ever felt that their bodily integrity was threatened. But you know, all this talk about rape culture is such a downer. Let's just get to the good stuff.

Who: Some Dude In The Passenger Seat Of A Car
When: Saturday, January 19, 2013 9:30 pm
Where: Telegraph and 19th St, Downtown Oakland
What: While walking to a concert down a highly populated Telegraph Avenue, Some Dude In The Passenger Seat Of A Car yells at me: "Yo, lemme get yo purse! Lemme get yo purse! Hey, lemme get yo purse!" People pack heat in Oakland, so I figured this was not an appropriate time to talk back. I looked straight ahead and kept walking, to which Some Dude In The Passenger Seat Of A Car concluded: "Bitch."

Who: Tall, Dark Stranger At The Fox Theater Bar
When: Sunday, January 19, 2013 12:30 am
Where: Telegraph and 19th St, Downtown Oakland (but on the other side of the street this time)
What: After a concert, Lynn and I decided it would be better for both of us to walk to her car, and she could drive me to my car. No, I'm not some lazy girl with impractical heels on, we just didn't want to get raped. And when I say we decided, I mean we didn't even talk about it, we had already talked about where we had parked, so we just walked out together to the closer car. So we walk by the Fox Theater bar, and a Tall, Dark Stranger starts walking toward us saying "hey" aggressively, as if we left our lights on and he wants to tell us, or if we'd just told his mother to suck a bag of dicks, or if he saw two very petite ladies and thought that he'd be able to get some kind of sexual satisfaction out of at least one of them because they're probably too meek to say no. We both ignored him and kept walking. We both had pepper spray in our hands. Lynn suggested that only women should be allowed to own and carry guns.

Working in Jewish Education

Don't do it.

The more religious it gets, the worse it is. I've worked at summer camps, preschools, and Hebrew Schools, and I can tell you to run the other way.

It seems like the more Jewish it is, the smaller pool they have to hire from, with disastrous results.

It's crazy because I spend most of my time doing Jewish things, hanging out with Jews, reading Jewish books, etc., and yet I can't see myself working in Jewish education much longer. It's great to not have to explain why I can't come in for half of September to my goyishe boss, but I just don't feel it's worth it anymore. In one preschool there were no developmentally appropriate religious materials. The story they had on Purim included the midrash (extrapolated from the text but not spelled out) that when Haman was leading Mordechai on the horse through Shushan, his daughter tried to throw the chamber pot on Mordechai and instead hit her dad, then fell/jumped out after it and died. Why would you tell that to a 3 year old?! Jesus Christ! So not appropriate.

I haven't found anyone who is an expert on early childhood who is religious enough to fit into my community. Even I'm not religious enough. I feel like everyone has unrealistic expectations about what a high quality Orthodox preschool should look like. I guess for them the Orthodox is the most important part.

In elementary school, I never had a religiously observant teacher. Just female Reconstructionist rabbis trying to teach me the laws of Shabbat and Kashrut that I wasn't sure anyone actually did. According to one teacher there, the teachers were never evaluated.

At another local day school, one teacher was told that her checks would be directly deposited into her account. So she wrote a bunch of checks. I'm sure you can figure out the rest of the story.

I worked at one Hebrew School where I had to chase down my paychecks, which were then for the wrong amount. That's like 5 kinds of illegal.

I know one lady who is a Hebrew reading instructor for kindergarteners. No one told her that reading can't be taught to kindergarteners phonics-style. They kind of have to absorb it. And if they don't, that's still normal. If a kid can't read by 8, start being concerned. No one told her how to do this impossible task. In fact, no one told her anything.

I have had good experiences working in Jewish preschools and Hebrew Schools. I know they can function. But when they can't even put their two employees on payroll, it kind of makes me wonder if I'm valued.

I ultimately want to teach high school English, and I can't see myself working at a Jewish school where I never know when or how much I'll be paid, and no one's there to support me professionally.

We all know that all workplaces have their weak points. But at least they can fire people without effectively excommunicate them from their community. And they're not working under the idea that "We're all Jews, so it's cool." No, it's not cool when I don't even get paid properly, and it's not cool when you hire crackheads because they're Jewish.

Rape Jokes

The other day I was watching some show on TV. This show had two hosts, a man and a woman, and they had on two “social commentators,” i.e. people who talk on the Internet. They were discussing a joke that the comedian Daniel Tosh had made. Tosh joked that his girlfriend was mad because he’d replaced her pepper spray with silly string, and then “she got raped so bad.” Cue laughter. A woman in the audience heckled him and said “Actually, rape jokes are never funny!” Someone can’t take a joke, amIright?! Tosh said: “Wouldn’t it be funny if that girl got raped by like, 5 guys right now? Like right now? What if a bunch of guys just raped her…” So the heckler and her friend left. They were there to see Dane Cook and didn’t know who Daniel Tosh was.

 In case you missed the Internet-chatter about this joke, let me briefly explain why it was so bad. It’s not just a joke against a minority group (women), it’s someone who holds power in the majority making a joke about how powerless the minority is. I’ve offended my fair share of people with my “humor,” and I felt super embarrassed when they called me out on it. I was aware that I was broaching a powerful subject, and it didn’t feel good to have it pointed out that I was doing it wrong. But I am especially listening when I make those potentially offensive jokes, so that next time I’ll have a better idea of what jokes will actually be funny and which will make me sound like a bigoted asshole.

 Yes, Tosh made two rape jokes, one being hella oppressive, the other being possibly amusing. But it gets worse. Let me tell you what the talk show hosts and their guests concluded: 1. If we start saying topics are off-limits to comedians, we might as well go back to Stalinist Russia. 2. If you get offended by rape jokes, you can just leave, and 3. You have no sense of humor, you angry feminist (probably)lesbian with hairy armpits.

So let’s review:

 Comedian makes a shitty joke.

 When legitimately called out, comedian reaffirms the misogyny behind his joke when he suggests that several people in the room rape another person in the room.

The TV says the comedian was in the right. Or possibly that he shouldn’t have said that, but that it’s not as bad as voicing anti-rape (joke) sentiments.

Not only does this show send the message that rape is kinda funny and everyone should think so, but also that if you say that (joking about) rape is not OK, you are seriously lame.

I’m not going to make a blanket statement condemning rape jokes. Humor is a powerful tool, and if that’s what’s going to work to get your ANTI-RAPE message across, then it’s an acceptable topic. What I am going to do is condemn the rape discourse in this country. The rape discourse says that when you get raped, you did something to bring it on yourself, and please shut up about it because we really don’t want to hear you complain. Also, are you sure? You probably wanted it and then changed your mind, you lying slut. Gotta watch out for broads like that. Did you know nearly 1 in 6 men get falsely accused of rape? It’s terrible. Wait… what was that? Oh! Sorry. It’s actually 1 in 6 women get real-life raped. 1 in 33 guys get raped, too. That’s right, there’s a 3% chance your dad got raped, and a 17% chance your mom got raped. And a 17% chance your girlfriend got or will get raped. And if you have 6 female friends on Facebook, it is statistically extremely likely that one of them has been, or will be!, raped. And you’re in there, too, don’t worry! Even if you think rape doesn’t have anything to do with you, there is a 3-17% chance it’ll happen to you yet. Downer :(

But what’s the problem with comedians making offensive jokes? It’s the power dynamic. Rape victims making rape jokes: possibly funny. Women making rape jokes: possibly funny. Men making rape jokes: probably not funny.

I think Tosh’s original joke about the silly string was a funny idea. What isn’t funny is being a man (i.e. potential rapist) and saying that. What isn’t funny is the fact that your audience is predominantly (or at least 50%) male. What isn’t funny is being one woman in a sea of men who think it’s funny to rape you. It is of the utmost importance that men stop accepting rape. Are minorities supposed to avoid getting discriminated against? No, the majority has to stop being racist dicks. Women are always told ways to “avoid getting raped.“ But it is men who need to stand up and not allow this kind of evil behavior from their own kind.

 Rape jokes aren’t the problem. There are many ways to joke about rape that express how bad it is, not how amusing and acceptable it is. The problem is men who publicly laugh at and suggest rape as an appropriate response to anything ever. The problem is the public discourse that excuses male chauvinism and silences women who speak up. That is exactly what creates a culture in which rape is allowed.

Getting Raped Sucks

Warning: You probably do not want to read this.

I am writing about my own rape for several reasons:
> to share my story with other victims
> to speak out about a subject that is usually ignored
> because I have all these words in my head, and that’s why I started a blog in the first place

Once upon a time there was me. I met this guy a couple of times, found that we had similar sexual interests, and started hooking up. We were open about the fact that both of us were seeing other people as well. I was leaving the country for several months soon, so I just wanted to have some fun. Mostly what I liked about this guy was fooling around, and that we always got dressed up fancy when we went out. I overlooked his frequent exaggerations and name-dropping. Since he was generally nice, I ignored my friends’ warnings and his creepy vibes. If you were unclear on what I meant by “hooking up,” I meant being sexually intimate without vaginal or anal sex. I had a whole conversation with the guy about it, and—after being mad—conceded that he didn’t “even like vaginal sex much.” I told him that if he wanted vaginal or anal sex, then it would be fine if he wanted to seek it elsewhere.

One Sunday morning we woke up and fooled around. I hadn’t slept well since he had only put out one pillow and a small blanket, forcing me to lay uncomfortably close to him. We were spooning, but at a distance. We had both gotten off, so I wasn’t really sure where things were going when he stuck his fingers in my butt. I didn’t really care, either. Now, several guys before this one have ventured where even I dare not go, and to be honest, it never actually felt like much. It’s a little weird, or a lot weird, depending on your hang-ups. He seemed to be enjoying it, so I let him continue. “Hey,” I thought, “if he gets off without me having to do anything, it’s win-win.” He asked if he could fuck my ass. I said no. Perhaps as an enticement he offered “even with protection?” I was somewhat horrified that he would even consider unprotected sex, especially since he was having sex with someone else, and he suspected me of the same. I said no again. After a few more minutes of his moaning and rubbing his wiener between my legs while making friends with my colon, I noticed that his hand was on my hip, which meant that something else was in my butt. I sat up and turned around to see his dick slide out of my butt. Oh, no.

My thought process went something like this: “Was he just having sex with me? Is there any way that he could have not just been having sex with me? I think I just got raped. Should I kill him? If I start screaming, will he actually rape me way worse? Does this mean we’re not getting waffles?” I sat there, horrified, until he said I was starting to scare him. I said there was a word for what he just did, and then he got real scared. But I’m pretty sure he was just being dramatic. He has a propensity for melodrama. So I got dressed and went home. I cried. I called my best friend. I took a shower. I considered going to the police or hospital, but there would be no evidence. I was mildly annoyed at having a lover stick his fingers in my butt, but there was no way I could handle getting swabbed or whatever by some technician or clinician or nurse. I just wanted it to have not happened. And I was sad about not getting waffles.

Later that day he proffered several explanations for his behavior, all of which creeped me out: he thought I was into it (as if I’m subtle about it when I’m “into it”), he didn’t understand why I didn’t want to have sex. Even if I thought having sex would result in me getting abducted by aliens, you still have to respect it! I went to collect my belongings from him the next day, which he handed to me folded and stacked in a paper bag. We politely discussed yesterday’s events, and I highlighted how his behavior constituted rape, and was generally unsafe for someone with multiple partners (he was sharing sex toys between me and at least one other girl.) He seemed to admit that a mistake had been made, and that I was hurt, but not that he had put his sexual organ inside my body against my explicit and repeated request.

I then entered a period of general fucked-uped-ness. The main issue was that someone I generally liked thought that I was so worthless that I didn’t even have the right to determine whose dicks enter my orifices. He seemed like a reasonable guy before, so maybe he was right on this one. I didn’t know him that well, so I sought more information. I had a meeting with his 3 previous ex-girlfriends. None of them had been raped by him, but they all had highly creepy stories, which I will spare you here. None of them were at all surprised. I felt validated. I left the country.

A little over a year after I last saw him, we attended the same concert. I was with several of my friends, all of whom knew what had happened. And apparently while I was gone people had been speaking about it. I hid for most of the show. I thought about what to do. I just wanted to leave. But I kept thinking, “HE’S the one who should leave!” After the band we had both come to see, I decided to say something to him. I was shaking. I thought I was going to crap my pants. I went up to him and said something along the lines of “Listen you rapist piece of shit, I don’t want to see you ever again. Do you understand? Never again!” He said OK and looked scared. I’ve come to love that look. It felt great! I went to my car and sobbed hysterically for half an hour. Yep, totally great. I haven’t seen him again.

Up until this point, everyone I spoke to who knew this guy despised him. All of them believed me immediately when I told them what he’d done. There was just one person still in his ring—the girl he was dating at the same time as me, and was still dating a year later. I liked her the one or two times I’d met her. We got coffee. She herself had been majorly raped several times, although she said that she didn’t want to minimize my experience. She also seemed to believe me, though she also argued his same arguments—that somehow it wasn’t clear to him after our conversations and after he flat-out asked me and I had said no that I did not want sex. Anal sex. (Wouldn’t you make absolutely sure a girl was cool with it before you stuck your thing up her booty? Not necessarily to confirm consent, but out of incredulity. Like, “Are you serious? Girls always say no to this. This is the best day of my life!”) Like many before her, she was also duped by this guy’s charm. She said she always calls him out on his lies, but twice I corrected her understanding of events. Like when she said I had gone to his family’s Thanksgiving dinner. Um, I have my own family, thankyouverymuch. The conversation started out OK, but mid-way through I felt she was CHANNELING him. She sounded just like him, and it totally wigged me out.

When I came back to the country half a year after getting raped, I went to Planned Parenthood to get on birth control. I told them what had happened (the third time I told a health worker), and they reported it to the police. After 3 hours in Planned Parenthood, I came home to see a cruiser parked outside my house. Keep in mind, I had been in America less than a week, I had a cold, and American food was upsetting my stomach every time I ate. So I was alone in a house with an armed man who I didn’t know. And I was telling him every nasty detail of one of the worst moments of my life. He’s asking me questions like “So he was digitally penetrating your anus?” Very uncomfortable. As is my usual style, I’m joking around and being offhand about it, and he’s having none of it. Do you know how uncomfortable it is when your jokes are getting no response? Try that when your jokes are about your own rape. I’m going to advise against that, actually. So this goes on for an hour, and the he wants to know where it happened. I didn’t want to tell the officer where he lives, because he was not being clear on what the consequences would be. And I hadn’t decided on what consequences I was OK with. What would happen to me if cops show up at his door? Eventually he got me to point on a map where it happened, and he said “that’s not in this town,” and headed for the door. It was three blocks from the police station. Apparently the police station is on the border. FML. So that was it. He suggested I go to Richmond’s police department. Hell no I’m not doing this again. A year after that I went to the police station to try to talk to them about how they handle taking accounts from alleged rape victims. Maybe don’t send a man? Maybe explain what the repercussions might be? Maybe show some facial affect? They didn’t have any document of a reported rape, so they didn’t feel there was anything to talk about. I left crying.

There have been some lingering side effects. One is that I have turned into a man-hater. I understand that this one guy’s mistake does not reflect all men. It was other men that pushed me over. I worked a very emotionally draining job (with violent disabled kids), so I took a day off. My dad came home and teased me for being so “tired” after my luxurious 3-day weekend. I hadn’t told him what happened (and still haven’t), but I was just a tad bit sensitive to belittling at the time. When I did go back to work, a male coworker asked why I was so glum. I didn’t say anything, but he took the liberty to offer some advise: “You gotta get inside his head.” Get inside his head?! “He raped me!” I shot back. I told one of the other guys I was seeing. I actually really cared for this guy for several years. His response was “Why didn’t you just get up?” Apparently because I could just “get up,” it didn’t count as rape to him. This was not helpful. We had several discussions on the matter, each of which made him seem more autistic. I tried hooking up with him, and he didn’t understand why I would want to “take it slow” after our previous passionate encounters. And he tried tickling my asshole. Normally I would have let the guy do his thing, but I was taking a crash course on putting up boundaries. High boundaries. Four-foot thick stone boundaries. I tried to talk to him about it more, but he just could not get it. He told me if it was really rape then I would have gone to the police, and since I hadn’t and wasn’t planning to, then it wasn’t rape. I no longer speak to him.

I gained some friends from all this. Some people who I was not close to before were extremely supportive when I told them. When I went to see the guy the next day to get my things, I had a friend sitting there in the car for an hour, watching out for me. One thing that was most helpful at the time was when people would tell me that what he did was not OK. Because for a while I wasn’t sure.

But I also lost a few friends, too. I lost that one guy I was dating, who I already mentioned. I lost one of my closest friends because she didn’t seem to realize that something bad had happened. She never mentioned it, never made any extra effort to be a friend. I don’t want to sound like I’m throwing myself a pity party, but there are just some times when you need your friends to act like friends. I now try to be more forgiving when people do or say the wrong thing after I’ve told them. I know it’s hard to know how to respond. I still don’t know how to respond when people tell me they’ve been raped.

And what happened to my sex life? It died. I don’t know if I can place the blame squarely on this event, but within four months I had absolutely no sex drive, which is depressing. Or maybe I was depressed and that killed my sex drive? Either way, it’s gone.

I think the one thing that helped me recover the most was realizing that it’s not just me. Rape is a very personal crime. It happens INSIDE your most intimate parts. I felt like I was the only person who had ever experienced sexual violation from that guy, at that time, under those circumstances, resulting in a tragic loss of waffles. I felt like no one would understand. I knew that many women have experienced unwanted sexual penetration in some form, but it took me a long time to identify with them. Since it’s such a personal event, I wasn’t able to relate to anyone or anything else. I didn’t find many stories or much information online. But the more I talked about it, the more stories I heard, the more I felt like I was in good company. The last statistic I read said that 1 in 6 American women gets raped. Even if it’s 1 in 10, that is still millions of women.

And that’s pretty much it. You can try to deal with it as best as you can, and find a way to make it make you stronger. Piece of cake, right? And you can just recognize the fact that when you get raped, it totally sucks. Sometimes it is a series of suckyness. Sometimes the suckyness compounds other suckyness. I felt like telling my story would help me, and maybe help others. Don’t be afraid to tell your story.

And if you see Rob, don’t act like you don’t know.

AFI

I have been to hundreds of concerts, and none of them have been festivals or arenas. The most expensive concert I ever went to was AFI at the Catalyst in Santa Cruz, CA, at the beginning of 2010. The main floor can hold around 800 people, so it's not huge. I spent $180 on two tickets, including the $20 service charge. I have no recollection of the opening band(s). Davey Havok came out in a gold suit, and I got a huge boner that lasted four hours or more.


I've read on the "Internet" that this gentleman is not gay. I don't care. All I wanted was for him to kiss Jade, the guitarist, and then for them to live happily ever after in each others arms. I'm not sure if they want that, but obviously they should. Some of the dudes in the audience were pretty scary and macho, and I wondered if they were as ignorant as I was about how flamboyant our hero is.

I prefer AFI's first five albums over their last three crap-fests. They played all of two songs from those five albums. Even though I had no idea what was going on for most of that extremely expensive hour and a half, I was totally blissed out. Who says you can't buy happiness?