One Rape Victim’s Struggles with Feelings and Fault
Still, in the midst of my struggles; I understood that my body was my prize possession and it would never belong to just anyone. Although I lived in a neighborhood where the girls were pretty loose, it was never my intention to fall prey to the immature one-liners the guys used to get what they wanted. I could handle being the mystery girl, as long as I never became known as the girl around town. However, in maintaining that distance, there were so many guys who wanted to get to know me better. It was clear that they weren’t interested in my intellect or my future goals in life. The only thing that really drove the guys in my neighborhood was, seemingly; how many girls’ pants they could get into. I was one of the ones who weren’t quick to fulfill their short-term goals. In turn, the guys kept coming in hopes of stirring my curiosity.
In time, I got involved with a couple of brothers that I wished to God I had never laid eyes on. I guess this, too, was a part of the lesson I would learn in life. Now, my rapist was no one who had ever caught my eye. In fact, his family lived two doors down from me and was like family to me. If I could have foreseen myself falling prey to someone so close, my ideas about friends would have become something totally different. I never saw it coming. I could tell he had a crush on me but never imagined that he would take things to the level that he did. Because I would rather not get into specific accounts from that day, I must make something clear.
Rape is never a fault of the victim. Rape is NEVER a fault of the victim. People try to say that the way you dress has something to do with guys thinking they can do anything. While your clothing may send mixed signals, a real man misinterprets little. It is not a real mans goal to manipulate a woman or treat her as if she is something found at the meat market. A real man wants to make love to a woman’s mind, before ever touching her body. On the evening I was raped, I was wearing a t-shirt and shorts. There was nothing provocative about my dress. I wasn’t whispering sweet innuendos into the ears of my attacker. In fact, I was only trying to get a ride from someone I thought I knew. Yet, when I went to court, I was put on trial. I felt like curling up into my skin and sinking into the darkest void ever known.
It was extremely hard to bounce back, because my boyfriend left me; not as a result of the rape (that was his excuse) but as a result of his non-compliance with true manhood. The road ahead seemed dim, as I hid myself from the public. I was too ashamed, because of someone else’s crime. Why did I feel as if I had done something wrong? I went through countless nights of torture in my mind. My heart was extremely fragile. I felt as if no one really knew what this violation of my body had done to me. My recovery didn’t begin until I realized for myself that I had done nothing wrong. People place such a stigma on rape that the victim, more often than not, feels ashamed and at fault. I had to break away from what other people thought and gain faith and trust within myself.
I began making public appearances, as the gazes seemed to penetrate my scars. I am sure the imaginations of many went wild, as I limped by themâÂ?¦this visible sign of my attack. Days went by as I began feeling better about myself, aside from the whispers and snide remarks. I began taking back the power that had been aggressively stripped from me. I imagined a road ahead that didn’t look so gloomy. I knew that the only way to really heal was to find healing from within. I would tell myself again and again how the rape was not my fault. I was violated and everyone wanted to chalk it up to some teenage
girl finally letting go of her mystery.
Though I never imagined every enduring such torment, I realize that I had to go through all that I did. If for no other reason than to share my story, the events from that day were predetermined. It’s amazing that it took rape for me to find what I had been long-since in search ofâÂ?¦self.
