The day I became a victim of rape
I know what you must be thinking. Why on earth would I open up about something so deep? I am an incredibly open person, and I feel strongly about raising awareness. Especially when it comes to the topic of rape. I did as much research on this as I could without breaking down inside, but the truth of it all is that rape happens too often and to too many. I will not go into details, because that might "offend" some people. I only mean that in a sensitive manner. This topic is so vague yet so intimate. Rape happens in so many different ways, but to me it happened brutally.
On July 5th, 2017, I was about to discover just how unsafe this city really is. New Mexico, as a state, comes 2nd to Hawaii in crime. Not just rape crime, but crime in general. That is pretty sad. My birthdays for the last few years have not been spent with fun intent. The last time I had a blast on my birthday was when I went to Florida with a former friend to meet another one of our friend's that lived there. I'll never forget that. This year, I was getting over a cold. I was missing my friends and I wanted to hang out. After meeting up with them, we all decided to go to a show at a local venue. As the night progressed, at some point during the evening, I was drugged. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a sidewalk in a grungy and unfavorable neighborhood. I remember my friends begging me not to leave. But I am stubborn. Always just trying to do things by myself. I discovered that my wallet was gone but I still had my phone. My phone was dead. I managed to make it to a main street and I flagged down an 18 wheeler. He called the cops for me and I waited. It felt like years until they finally showed up. Unfortunately, the cops were not as friendly because they probably assumed that I was just another junkie because of the part of town that I was stuck in. They quickly realized that that was not the case. I learned that it is protocol for police to transport rape victims to SANE. All I wanted, more than ever, was my mother. The police agreed to transport me to her house and when we arrived, I had to watch, from the back of the police car, the fear on my mother's face when she saw a cop on her front doorstep. I can't even imagine the thoughts that were running through her mind. "Is my daughter dead?" I just wanted her to hold me. She came rushing to the police car shaking so hard, you would've thought it was an earthquake. My life changed that day. Unfortunately, I will never be the same. There will always be a scar.
I've had flashbacks, but I cannot see faces. I do know that it was more than one man. I do believe that there were 4 men. I can hear voices, but I cannot make out what they were saying. I don't ever want to know. My friends were scared, and I also had an extremely worried boyfriend (now fiance). My family was so distraught and I myself... I don't even know what feelings I had except for "who even does this?" I was confused and ashamed. I felt so dirty and alone. I knew that my support system was strong, but I also knew that I felt very alone which I don't feel is wrong or uncommon. Now, I just feel empty.
I don't go anywhere anymore by myself with the assumption of running into people I know. I always go with my best friend or my fiance or my mother. I don't like to talk to anyone unless I know them. My sense of personable curiosity is gone. I've become an introvert. I've become different. I will say that I've become more aware. More observant. When I go to the grocery store and I see a man-- any man-- I feel like "that could've been my rapist." I do believe that I know one man who was involved... but I will never say anything. There is a reason for it, so please do not try and convince me that it will be a good idea to talk about it to anyone.
Always remember that life is precious. You never think it will happen to you until it happens to you. I wasn't naive. I wasn't unobservant. I was simply just trying to have a good birthday and 4th of July, and it happened. The worst crime happened.
“Now, should we treat women as independent agents, responsible for themselves? Of course. But being responsible has nothing to do with being raped. Women don’t get raped because they were drinking or took drugs. Women do not get raped because they weren’t careful enough. Women get raped because someone raped them.”
― Jessica Valenti, The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity is Hurting Young Women
On July 5th, 2017, I was about to discover just how unsafe this city really is. New Mexico, as a state, comes 2nd to Hawaii in crime. Not just rape crime, but crime in general. That is pretty sad. My birthdays for the last few years have not been spent with fun intent. The last time I had a blast on my birthday was when I went to Florida with a former friend to meet another one of our friend's that lived there. I'll never forget that. This year, I was getting over a cold. I was missing my friends and I wanted to hang out. After meeting up with them, we all decided to go to a show at a local venue. As the night progressed, at some point during the evening, I was drugged. The next thing I knew, I woke up on a sidewalk in a grungy and unfavorable neighborhood. I remember my friends begging me not to leave. But I am stubborn. Always just trying to do things by myself. I discovered that my wallet was gone but I still had my phone. My phone was dead. I managed to make it to a main street and I flagged down an 18 wheeler. He called the cops for me and I waited. It felt like years until they finally showed up. Unfortunately, the cops were not as friendly because they probably assumed that I was just another junkie because of the part of town that I was stuck in. They quickly realized that that was not the case. I learned that it is protocol for police to transport rape victims to SANE. All I wanted, more than ever, was my mother. The police agreed to transport me to her house and when we arrived, I had to watch, from the back of the police car, the fear on my mother's face when she saw a cop on her front doorstep. I can't even imagine the thoughts that were running through her mind. "Is my daughter dead?" I just wanted her to hold me. She came rushing to the police car shaking so hard, you would've thought it was an earthquake. My life changed that day. Unfortunately, I will never be the same. There will always be a scar.
I've had flashbacks, but I cannot see faces. I do know that it was more than one man. I do believe that there were 4 men. I can hear voices, but I cannot make out what they were saying. I don't ever want to know. My friends were scared, and I also had an extremely worried boyfriend (now fiance). My family was so distraught and I myself... I don't even know what feelings I had except for "who even does this?" I was confused and ashamed. I felt so dirty and alone. I knew that my support system was strong, but I also knew that I felt very alone which I don't feel is wrong or uncommon. Now, I just feel empty.
I don't go anywhere anymore by myself with the assumption of running into people I know. I always go with my best friend or my fiance or my mother. I don't like to talk to anyone unless I know them. My sense of personable curiosity is gone. I've become an introvert. I've become different. I will say that I've become more aware. More observant. When I go to the grocery store and I see a man-- any man-- I feel like "that could've been my rapist." I do believe that I know one man who was involved... but I will never say anything. There is a reason for it, so please do not try and convince me that it will be a good idea to talk about it to anyone.
Always remember that life is precious. You never think it will happen to you until it happens to you. I wasn't naive. I wasn't unobservant. I was simply just trying to have a good birthday and 4th of July, and it happened. The worst crime happened.
“Now, should we treat women as independent agents, responsible for themselves? Of course. But being responsible has nothing to do with being raped. Women don’t get raped because they were drinking or took drugs. Women do not get raped because they weren’t careful enough. Women get raped because someone raped them.”
― Jessica Valenti, The Purity Myth: How America's Obsession with Virginity is Hurting Young Women
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