As part of today's #1billionrising FORCE is carrying 44 giant, red styrofoam letters to the national mall to write the poem "I CAN'T FORGET WHAT HAPPENED BUT NO ONE ELSE REMEMBERS" Follow the action on facebook and twitter.
In #MourningAndRage tell the nation why we need a memorial. Share your memories; share your rage.
I was assaulted, and my ex-boyfriends told me to “get over myself.” They became sexually, physically, and emotionally abusive to “cure” me.
Because we live in a culture where I grew up thinking violent was normal.
Because when I was assaulted by someone I was dating in high school, my parents cared more about reviewing Catholic doctrine regarding what sexual acts are a mortal sin than making sure I was okay and supporting me. No one should ever be blamed when someone assaults them.
Because when I was six, he started molesting me. Because when I was twelve, he stopped raping me. Because when I was sixteen, and finally told someone, they said, “I never would have let anyone do that to me!”
After I was sexually assaulted it only took a matter of months for the community and home I had built for myself to completely dissolve. For twenty-five years,I had tried to live well, learning about myself and nurturing my friendships. He took them from me. My friends and family did not know how to be around me anymore. I was terrified all the time. I saw his face everywhere. (I still have nightmares). My fight/flight/freeze responses were on high alert. If I heard a loud noise, even in a grocery store or some other familiar environment, I would be scared out of my mind and ready to fight someone with what little muscles I had left. I say what little muscles I had left because I did not realize it then (I slept only three or four hours a night), but my body had begun to deteriorate. I wanted to be invisible and in my quest I unintentionally became anorexic. I am 5’6” tall and by the time a doctor told me that I was anorexic, I weighed 92 pounds. I could not sleep the night through; I would wake up at the time I was attacked and every hour on the hour afterward. I lost my job and my apartment. I had to sell or donate all of my belongings and move across America to stay with my mother. My mother did not recognize the skeleton I had become.
I will carry this with me for the rest of my life. I graduated high school, I earned my BA, but no one ever told me what to do after I was sexually assaulted. If I immediately called the police and went to the hospital for my SAE (Sexual Assault Exam), I could have successfully convicted him. But I was in shock - I was hysterical I just wanted to shower and burn my clothes and feel safe again.
I hope this monument happens. I saw a photo of the temporary monument and it really resonated with me. One day, we really will be equal beings.
I don’t want anyone else to suffer in silence. The few times I have mustered the strength to lift my voice from the depths, I have been scoffed at, mocked, and brushed aside. Why am I - the one whose face was pushed into the cement floor of his garage, the one who was locked in his car while violence was being acted upon me - the one being shamed into silence? Just looking at the Poem in the Pool made me cry. Some of us still need to stop and grieve.
It goes back to before I had words to understand everything. I tried to explain it to my mom, she said there was something wrong with me.
The abuse grew into me, when someone hurt me, I believed it was my fault. Or that there was nothing really wrong I was just crazy.
I struggle with this daily. It has twisted me and prevented me from being close to people. I’m lonely and I cry. There are days when I hurt myself or prevent food from entering my body because I am so angry that other people get to live their lives without this pain. That the people who hurt me, call me crazy.
Because my molester was my oldest brother, the rest of my family wants me to just get over it. Every single one of my immediate family of origin has said something to me that may have appeared sympathetic on the surface but had the intention of minimizing my experience. He has never faced charges. My father and my other brother still reach out to him and see him. My feelings of anger, betrayal and pain are not welcome. The appearance of group harmony is more important to them than actual healthy relationships.
44 Giant letters spell out rape survivor’s poem and call for a national memorial.
44 Giant letters spell out rape survivor’s poem and call to build a national memorial.
Because sexual violence is accepted and swept under the rug. Because sexual abuse victims are ignored and belittled. Because everyone needs to know that sexual violence will no longer be accepted or swept under the rug. Because every victim needs to know they are strong and supported.
Because out of all the people I have known who have been sexually abused, none have seen their offenders prosecuted for their crimes. The person who ruined the rest of their lives keeps living their day-to-day life as if nothing has happened.
Because too often when I tell people how many women in their life will be sexually abused they are shocked and think they don’t know anybody that has ever happened too, but I know they know the same people I know who have been abused, and probably many more who have never said anything. Those women need more support and less denial.
We need a monument because if we don’t speak up, we let them make us invisible. If we don’t make ourselves heard, the world will continue to choose to ignore us. If we don’t voice our disapproval, more rapists will feel justified and more survivors feel alone. I will never be able to forget what happened to me, but I hope at least I can save someone else, or at least create a culture that doesn’t tell her that her experience is somehow her fault.
