I woke up relatively hungover in my hotel room and checked my phone to see more texts than I was expecting. Living halfway across the world, it’s not uncommon for people back home to check in on me during the hours when I’m usually asleep. Today was different though.
During the past two years since I started college and a certain racist, sexist pig took office, I have felt like every news alert, every oppressive tweet, and every disappointment has taken my body and thrown it against a building repeatedly. While it doesn’t show on the outside, my internal organs are bleeding and my heart is bruised. I was prepared for the news that a sexual assailant was joining the ranks of our oldest and whitest government court. I was prepared for the news, knowing full well that, despite hoping that the outcries of survivors would make an impact on the vote, the outcome would not change.
I received texts from friends, my older sister, former partners, people who love me from all walks of life offering their support. I have recently made myself more vulnerable by sharing the story of my assault on the internet and being more politically active on social media regarding the confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh. In particular, discussing the nuances of women and survivors in a society where politics have rarely regarded anyone except white males with respect. It’s also worth noting that reading the work of Brittney Cooper, bell hooks, Cleo Wade, and other intersectional feminist writers who I admire has been cathartic for me. It’s also put things into perspective for me, expanding the ways that I go about processing difficult information. I’m curious how the public viewed Dr. Christine Blasey Ford’s believability differently than that of Anita Hill in 1991?
The week that Dr. Ford came forward, I joined the survivors who publicly shared their experiences with sexual assault. Â
It has been two years and a few months, and I had previously just never found the right time to come forward. It also took quite a bit of learning and unlearning for me to understand the depth and weight of what happened to me. It took me a long time to realize that perhaps my assault could have been avoided if the survivors of my predator’s past indiscretions had come forward with their stories prior to that night. Maybe he wouldn’t have been invited. I don’t harbor any resentment, however, I do feel that it is my duty — as it was the duty of Dr. Ford — to out the individuals who have harmed us in an effort to make the world a safer place.
When I shared my experience, I don’t know what I expected. Learning that the process of due diligence meant that he needed to be notified about my assault accusations. This immediately made me panic. Part of me felt so heard and believed when I reported the incident, but I felt conflicted by the news that he would face consequences for his actions — or at least learn that he had this lasting impact on someone he’d probably forgotten about. While I figured this may be part of the process, I had discounted how much it would affect me that he would have my name spoken to him, my experience relayed to him.
I’m not pressing charges, so I’ll never have to sit in a courtroom opposite him and hear his voice, which will likely tell tales of assumed consent and blurred lines. But I was incapacitated and I blacked out during the event. I have felt unsafe for myself and others in sexual spaces ever since.
On that morning, I decided I was done carrying the invalidation I was placing on myself. I drafted an email to authorities. In sending that email I didn’t suddenly become free. I didn’t call for celebration and I didn’t even feel different on the inside at first. But what’s followed has been the daily reminder that I have survived and maybe even grown from my experience. An experience nobody should have to go through. Dr. Ford continues to be harassed daily, while I have been able to share my story in a much more quiet and discreet way.
For people who are struggling with whether or not to share their stories, and those who have been burdened by the social media streams of personal experiences of survivors and the reminder that so many people we know have been affected by sexual violence — I see you. I wish you peace. I know that even from my privileged position (I’m white with a liberal arts college education and had a upper-middle class upbringing), it still took me a very long time and lots of support to come to terms with my experience. I have been realizing more and more that the need for me to speak out came less from a place of personal redemption and more from the understanding that my experience, my sexual assault, was political in and of itself.
If we can’t hold men in our own communities accountable for their actions how can we expect justice to be reflected in politics? It’s complicated, but watching Dr. Ford come forward with bravery and conviction convinced me that I could do the same.
Photos (in order of appearance) by Camila Falcão, Sara Lorusso, Sharena Chindavong, Valentin Duciel, and Bungo Tsuchiya.Â