For example, when it comes down to it, what took place that night made me feel violated. Undeniably violated.
No. Matter. What.
This feeling of having been violated has been clear since day one of my assault (after all, it’s the root of all this – had I never felt violated, I doubt I would have thought much of that night, and well, I can say with certainty that this blog wouldn’t exist); STILL, it’s like I do everything in my power to distort this feeling into something else. Instead of saying, “Yes, I was violated,” I send this raw interpretation of what took place that night through a defective “filter.”
This metaphorical filter I speak of is constructed around the feelings and belief system of Society, or at least my perception of how Society feels and thinks. Every time I think about what happened and allow myself to feel the truth – I was violated in the most personal way possible – I almost immediately gravitate towards this filter. In other words, I start reworking my emotions and thoughts into something I perceive as more acceptable by Society’s standards.
It’s as if I don’t value my own account of what took place. Crazily, I look towards others – others who WEREN’T EVEN THERE, mind you – to interpret MY experience with an event that affected me very deeply. How crazy is that?!
How would others view that night?
Would others judge me because I had been drinking?
Would others blame me for acting irresponsibly?
Would others consider it rape or some drunken mistake?
Would others claim that he was “only being a guy”?
Would others view my previous “party girl” behavior as misleading to him?
Would others see him as a polite, intelligent, charming student who misinterpreted the actions of an irresponsible, mess-of-a-girl who placed herself in a stupid situation?
Unfortunately, in cases of acquaintance rape, Society frequently blames the victim, and that fact is as undeniable as my feeling of having been violated.
However, even with my defective filter in place, when it comes down to it, I know what took place that night. I know what happened to me. Past the self-doubt and self-blame, deep down I know the truth. He raped me.
So, here’s what I say to you, Society, HE MY RAPIST is to blame because:
(A) I had told him just a week before that sex was not in the cards – not that minute, not that night, not that week, nor that YEAR, I was waiting until MARRIAGE for crying out loud.
(B) Wait, what’s that you say? I didn’t stop him? You’re right – I did not say, “No, I do not consent to sex,” at that moment – that’s because I did not know that I needed to state it at that moment. Why? Because I was too intoxicated to know he had penetrated me with his penis.
(C) Wait, what’s that? He didn’t know that I was too drunk to consent? Well, if a stumbling, sloppy girl isn’t evidence enough, then I’d hate to see what constitutes “too drunk to consent”? Besides he didn’t care whether the sex was consensual – how do I know that? Because he NEVER ASKED!!! Not to mention, because he quickly changed from finger to penis penetration while I wasn’t looking, he denied me any opportunity to agree or disagree to what was going down.
(D) I shouldn't have been drinking, you say? Yes, I was acting irresponsibly that night. I’ll give you that, Society. But if you are going to blame me for my drinking, then you are going to have to blame my rapist for raping me. Yes, I chose to drink myself stupid that night. But I can live with that. I know it wasn’t in the healthiest and most wholesome of ways, but I was merely looking to have a good time at a party. I didn’t choose to be raped that night. No, no, no, that is NOT on me, Society.
He chose that path, not me.