What were you wearing when you were raped?
Read Time:3 Minute, 19 Second
I was at an after hours bar in Florida one early morning (1-2 am), and I walked out to my car to get a tape of “Purple Rain” for the DJ. A man I had spoken with while inside followed me out to my car.
I don’t remember his name; I do remember he told me was a hairdresser at a local salon. He grabbed me, slammed me up against my car and raped me. I was drunk and not capable of fighting back. He left five bruises on my neck: four fingers and a thumb.
Many people, mostly conservative men, believe that women are raped because of something they do. The way they dress, the way they walk, the people to whom they speak, their actions are all partially if not totally responsible for their assault. I was drunk, I admit that. I was wearing surfer shorts and a t-shirt. I did not deserve to be raped.
I have many friends who have been raped, both men and women. And in none of theses assaults did one of my friends “ask” for it. Not one of my friends did anything to provoke a rapist, because a rapist does not need to be provoked. Rape is not about sex, it’s about power.
My rapist disappeared, and since I had been intoxicated during the attack, I knew I had no chance. Our society looks down on rape victims for the most part, labeling us “sluts” or “easy”. Defense attorneys dig through our pasts with a fine toothed comb, searching for anything to prove we asked for it. Oh, she parties a lot; she must have wanted it rough. That one? She lost her virginity when she was still in high school, she’s easy. Miss, were you even raped?
Victims often become advocates, trail blazers, and risk takers. We strive to enlighten and teach not only victims but also perpetrators. Men do not simply wake up one morning and rape. I do not believe that. A rapist is a hunter, a stalker, obsessed with the rush of power raping gives him. My rapist must have felt incredibly powerful that evening, choking a severely inebriated girl in her 20’s, 5’4” and 100 lbs.
I often wonder if he raped again, and if I could have done anything to stop him. I didn’t know his name; I remembered he had brown hair and was much taller than me. That was it. I had nothing. And my guess is that’s exactly how he planned his attack. This was not a man who would woo you and date rape you. This was a stranger rapist, and he wanted to remain a stranger.
Rape counselors are true heroes. These people, usually women, take the most wounded creatures and help them regain their strength, their power and their lives. I didn’t go to a counselor, in fact I never even told my own therapist. I thought I deserved it because I was drunk. This is what society does to rape victims. It demeans them to the point where rape counselors have to work twice as hard just to talk about going to the police.
Why should we? Our entire life will be laid out, we will most likely be labeled horrible things by not only the defense but possibly by the police, and we might have to face our rapist in court. I’ll tell you why. If I had, on that night, one smidgen of detail, one piece of information that would have caught my rapist, I would have risked it all. I would have dealt with the humiliation, the embarrassment, the pain, all of it, if there was even a chance that bastard could have been caught. I would have relived that night over and over and over again if I could have put him behind bars.
I was wearing surfer shorts and a t-shirt. What were you wearing?
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I was wearing shorts and a t-shirt that he cut off of me before he stabbed me. I lived to put him away for 65 years. He was my friend. I think that hurt even worse than what he did to me.
It wasn’t rape. He just kept pressuring me. I was 11. He was 16. I had been wearing a jean skirt for church with a black t-shirt. The jean skirt came almost all the way to my knees. The t-shirt showed no cleavage. I didn’t even have any cleavage to show yet. But he put his hand up my shirt and skirt, and I didn’t know how to make him stop. Fortunately for me, someone else walked in the room, and he stopped. I didn’t want that.
My ex husband raped our two daughters while I was not home. They waited four years to tell me. When they went to therapy, the therapist called the cops. My daughters told the cops, the DA and the therapist, they did not want to prosecute because everyone that knew us would know what their dad had done. Everyone understood, and now, he is out there, hopefully not dating women with daughters. We got as far away from him as I could and my daughters have not spoken to him since that time, they are now in their 30’s. I wish all of the authorities that were supposedly supporting us had put him in jail, despite our request at the time.
Women like you are the reason change continues. You have strength that most people will never understand. To me, women like you are heroes.
I was nine years old. He was my best friends father. I was wearing a Strawberry Shortcake nightgown.
I know it wasn’t stranger rape, but it happened in the 1980’s, before “good touch/bad touch”. The only people I’ve ever told are my therapist and my husband. If someone reads this that has kept a secret like mine, I hope they find someone to tell.
I’m sorry to hear of the experience, and give you all the respect in the world for your willingness to speak out–this was a powerful piece. Our system has been moving in the right direction in recent years by employing victim advocates, adopting rape shield laws, and providing more training in sexual assault response, but these advancements are inconsistent across jurisdictions, and far from perfect…
Thanks Erin for speaking for all rape victims!
Oh my heavens. Erin I am so sorry and beyond that I have no words. Thanks so much for sharing this terrible part of your life.