A reader's story

TW: rape, sexual assault

I was 25 when it happened. I always thought I’d be the girl who fought for herself if ever confronted with an unwanted situation, and I never understood women who were silent in situations of sexual force or assault. I was fresh out of graduate school; a pro-life, church-going, self-proclaimed Christian (after attending church regularly while in graduate school). I had never been out on a date, I had never kissed a man, and although I knew what intercourse was, I had no idea of the other things involved in the broader aspect of sex. As you can say, I didn’t know what I didn’t know. So, I was completely unaware and unprepared for the events that would eventually take place in my life.

The year was challenging for me. I started a new job in a new city; one parent was in the midst of a legal situation which should have sent them to jail (if not prison); the other parent was just diagnosed with a slow progressing illness that ultimately leads to death, and I had no friends in my new city. I was lonely, I needed friends, and I thrilled when my best friend, whom I'd met in graduate school, called and asked me to share a meal with him.

I met my friend downtown, we had a lovely dinner, and then he took me from one bar to another, asking me to drink with him. I ordered drinks, but I barely drank anything because I knew I would be driving myself home. The evening became late, and my friend invited me to stay at the same place he was staying so I didn’t have to drive home. Being totally trusting of my four-year friendship, I agreed. I had no reason not to trust him, I’d stayed in the same homes and hotels as male friend before and nothing had happened, but this night was different.

He kissed me, and I didn’t know how to kiss him back so I hugged him. I was scared. Scared to tell him I had no experience kissing someone and scared I would have lost his friendship if I did speak at all. I moved to go to bed, thinking this would resolve the situation because I’d be asleep and he wouldn’t then be trying to kiss me. Before I knew it, he was lying beside me with his hands up my skirt and his fingers in in my vagina. He repeatedly put my hand on his penis, and I kept taking it off. I didn’t know what to do or what to think. I had never even put my hands in my vagina, and I had no clue a man (or anyone else) would even want to do that. I had no idea what was happening, I just knew I didn’t want it or like it. I was silent. I was the girl I never thought I’d become, the one who didn’t yell out when something was happening that was unwanted.

There were only two things going through my head that night, and yelling wasn’t one of them. I didn’t have the energy to yell, to confront him, or say anything at all. I was saving my energy and there were only two things going through my mind that night: “Just hold on to your underwear, don’t let him get them off” and “I wonder where I can get the abortion pill or get an abortion”.

He ended up stopping and it never turned into rape, so I never had to go fetch that abortion pill, but it was defiantly assault. That night I went from being pro-life to pro-choice, it is when I started to realize why people don’t yell out, and it’s a day that I lost my best friend because we never really spoke again. He knew what he did was wrong because he sent an email apologizing for his actions, saying that he felt terrible, but our friendship was over at that point.

I told very few people about the situation until recently, and it happened over five years ago. I initially told a friend, who asked what I was doing at a house alone with a man. This response hit me hard. This woman, this friend, she had been in her home alone countless times with her guy friends. The other responses I got were: “Thank God you weren’t raped” and “Praise Jesus it didn’t go further than it went”.

Seriously? Thank God? Praise Jesus? I understand that was likely a natural reaction of concern, but God had nothing to do with this. I don't think a God I would ever want to serve would 'allow' this to happen to me and then 'prevent' a rape. I understand these women were likely saying exactly what they had been taught, that Jesus intervenes with his good graces. But, how does this statement make women who were raped feel? That God wasn’t there to prevent their attacker from moving to rape, but that He was there for me? God doesn’t want me to be raped but will ‘allow’ those other women to be raped? God has nothing to do with this! Why not respond with, “We will pray that God helps you though this emotionally challenging time” or “Let God’s wrath come down on the jackass who did this to you.” Why are they praising God and not asking God to pull a Sodom and Gomorrah on this guy’s ass?

How does praising God about this not leading to rape make me feel? That God is okay with the years of crying that followed that situation? That God is okay with me getting down to 90 pounds because I dealt with the stress by running 16 miles a day for over 6 months?

I stopped going to church a few years later, not because of this situation but because of many, many things. I became pro-choice that night, and it’s not a stance I can easily talk about with people who are Christians. Most Christians are quick to judge me for my stance, quick to quote the Bible, quick to discuss options for teen moms or people with unwanted pregnancies, but they never actually ask me why I’m pro-choice, most just hit me with the standard Bible verses about life or they ignore that I'm pro-choice all together and don't even try and understand. I guess the point is that we all have our history, we all have our past lives, our struggles, and our own set of realities that shape our relationship with God, our relationship with the church, and our understanding of the moral outlines of the Bible. So, be quick to listen, know that someone's past will always shape their interpretation of the Bible- hoping that God may use those past histories to show people what they-as an individual- are being lead to believe, and be slow to judge.