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#MeToo

Drinking Does Not Equal Consent

By Toni RiojasPublished 6 years ago 4 min read
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I don't think that my story is unique in any way what so ever. Every day on the bus I have to put my head phones in to avoid getting hit on by old men who reek of vodka. If they do catch me with my headphones out, I have to say I'm not interested, or if that doesn't work, that I am a lesbian.

I've been with boyfriends and girlfriends who manipulated me into sex, on the premise that I had to make them happy or I would be on my own. I even had one boyfriend who would do things whether I consented or not.

I am a strong woman who has built a strong wall around myself. As I grew older I learned my self worth and learned that in any situation like stated above, that I brought more to the table. I am not afraid to eat alone.

I have PCOS and will likely never conceive, but if I do, I would be terrified to watch my daughter go through what I did. This is a story that I have told to only a handful of people, and some of the people whom I told this to only know half the truth. I never reported it, and I hesitantly told anyone. After telling my own brother (though not blood, someone I grew up with), he said that it was not rape; that I wanted to not feel guilty for sleeping with my best friend's boyfriend. I never told him the second half of the story.

I was 15 years old. Me and my best friends had been at her house on a cold night, I can't remember if it was fall or spring. There were several of us hanging out, and we were drinking. I don't think I was even supposed to be out that night. It was getting late, and I decided that I should probably head home. It was getting cold, and I was tired. My best friend hugged me goodbye, and her boyfriend asked if I needed someone to walk me home, because he had not been drinking. He came from a *good Christian family* and didn't participate when we got drunk or high very often.

I agreed even though I lived only a block away. I was pretty drunk. There was an abandoned house along the way that we had broken into several times to hang out as a group. He asked if I wanted to go up to the house and sit down for a few minutes. I thought nothing of it because I had been in the house a thousand times, though not alone with him.

We walked in through the back door which we had left unlocked so we didn't have to crawl through the window. It was chilly, even in the house because of broken windows. I sat/laid down on the empty floor and he sat down next to me. He kissed me, which took me aback because as noted above, this was my best friend's boyfriend. I froze, I didn't know what to do. I told him no.

I don't remember much. I remember it was quick and abrasive. I remember my pants being ripped down. I remember not physically fighting. I remember saying no. I remember walking out of the abandoned house and not wanting to go home. I remember feeling dirty, because this was my best friend's man. I remember wanting to forget.

I started walking home, but I didn't want to go to my room, and be alone. It was about 11 at night, and I only knew a few people to call to hang out with. I decided to call a friend's dad and ask if he had any weed. He said he was on his way to get some and asked if I wanted to come. It sounded like a great idea, covering trauma with getting wasted even more.

He pulled up with one of his friends and picked me up. We went to pick up the weed and then parked at an Elementary school that was out of the way. Me and him got out of the car after he rolled the blunt and were smoking, sitting on the trunk.

I remember everything. I remember him unzipping my pants. I remember not saying no. I remembered not wanting to be a victim again. I remember that he was in his 50s. I remember the wind being cold on my silent tears. I remember being dropped off at my house, and laying in my bed awake all night.

There are still lingering thoughts in my mind. I still worry about getting drunk around other people. I wonder if either of their wives know what type of men they are married to. I worry about my 17 year old cousin getting in a situation like this.

Most of all, I hope that girls at that age know that drinking is not consent. I hope that they are not silent. I hope that they are not afraid to open up about what happened, and not ashamed that they were drunk, or high.

I did not fight. I said no. Then I didn't say anything at all. I didn't say anything for 10 years. This is my story. #MeToo

feminism
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