I'm Angry

Anger cannot be silenced. Even if the words aren't spoken, anger will bubble up and excrete its toxic ooze of existence in our actions, our demeanor, our very being. With the onslaught of sexual assault and harassment accusations coming to light throughout our entertainment and political spectrum, it's both an enlightening and a burden on sexual assault survivors/victims. I am a victim, I don't know if I can ever be a survivor.

One definition of a survivor is "a person who copes well with difficulties in their life." No matter how well one believes themselves to have the ability to cope, there's always going to be that reminder, that trigger that throws them right back where they started. When 94% of victims of sexual assault experience symptoms of PTSD within 2 weeks of their assault, how is that surviving? Each and every day, there is another victim, brave enough to come forward, putting that fear of retaliation and re-victimization behind them, to be another voice adding to the growing chorus.

I'm angry. I'm more angry than I have ever felt in my entire existence. This is a completely different and existential anger, a defining moment, a feeling of purpose. I have been silenced, gagged, my identity taken from me. I was raped, held face down against my will, I said no, I begged, I pleaded, I bargained; but, nothing stopped the man I held an apathy for. He permanently injured me physically and emotionally. I immediately began suffering with the effects of PTSD. He changed everything I knew about myself. Like 67% of victims, I did not report it to law enforcement. Nine individuals, a mix of friends and family, knew and kept the information private. My attacker's father came from a position of power, which inevitably had benefited him over the years. This alone was a terrifying prospect to face, not to mention the stigma surrounding rape, a word I couldn't even utter for years. It was too sharp, too abrasive off the tongue. He forced me, is all I could muster for so long.

When I did report is when the anger really became evident. I have never named him publicly, and never intend to. I was being stalked and a private posting on Facebook became the catalyst to paint me as the monster and my attacker as the victim. What does it tell you about an individual that is terrified that someone could derive the nameless person is him, based on the actions you're describing? What does it tell you when those that knew his father, a woman mind you, uphold restraining orders and gag the victim? What does it tell you when the police, "inadvertently delete," the recording you told them would solidify your story? It tells me it's perfectly acceptable to be as angry as humanly possible. It tells me a movement is stirring and the whispers that became murmurs are becoming audible voices and will soon become the loudest unstoppable and deafening bedlam one can imagine.

If I were a survivor, I wouldn't have the ability to be angry; so, until I can find solace and comfort and the ability to trust in mankind, I will be angry. Anger is the driving force behind every great movement and pivotal shift in history. The key is using that outlet to fight for the betterment of the human race. Be angry my friends, sisters, brothers, and perfect strangers alike. Let it be our fuel for change.