Aftermath

Rape is an interesting situation.  The victim feels they put themselves in the situation and therefore should have or could have prevented it happening – then meaning it was their fault it happened in the first place.  It skews your understanding of relationships and trust.  It makes you second guess those who say they care about you and what their actual objectives are. It makes having a healthy relationship almost impossible to have. And for many of us , we end up reliving the experience over and over and over trying to fix what happened, take back what was ours, regain some control over it – but what it really does it take more from you, creates lower self esteem and self worth, subjects yourself to abusive relationships and/or inappropriate relationships.  We are subjected to unprotected sex, disease, illness, pregnancies (alone) and so many more things that, HONESTLY, you are not even aware is happening until one day you realize that something just isn’t right.

After MA I felt so odd…. I was pretty sure that I did not ever agree to do what happened, but I clearly didn’t stop it well enough for it to not happen – so I deserved it right?  I allowed this to happen, I lied and said I had sex before, I never discussed with him about whether I was willing to have sex with him therefore not making it clear ahead of time, and besides I was dressed nice and lotioned nice – I must have actually wanted it to happen, I guess.

MA and I kept a friendly relationship after the incident; he didn’t want to be my boyfriend and made that abundantly clear, not rudely – just known.  He was more than willing to be my friend and of course, continue having sex with me.  I remember thinking I needed to have some sort of relationship with this guy, I mean he did take my virginity, and since I didn’t know any better  and now believing that girls/women were really only good for a few things (cooking, cleaning, comforting and sex) – I would take the friendship with sex. 

I did hurt that he didn’t love me like I was told how sex was supposed to be and that he didn’t want me as his girlfriend. But I played it off like it was no big deal.  I can handle this, I can handle anything. Besides, I basically asked for it anyway, right?

Of course MA told several people about the incident and suddenly I was becoming quite popular among the boys.  Now several boys were asking for my number, talking to me in the halls and wanting to hang out with me.  For several months I really thought it was just because they just didn’t notice me before and now knew that I was a pretty chill girl.  But more and more the conversations would end up being about sex.  Reinforcing my understanding of what a woman, and especially me, was worth.  So I guess, this is what I’m supposed to do? But my friends weren’t doing this, unless they had a boyfriend, but even then most of my friends were still virgins – or just hadn’t disclosed not being a virgin. 

I started having sex with MA more often and he wanted to share me with others.  It was an odd feeling of power at first – a delusion of being desired and wanted – every woman wants to be desired and wanted!  Yet, it always ended in shame and loneliness.  It was a temporary fix to a fragile self esteem that in reality only drained it more.

Don’t get me wrong, MA was actually a nice guy.  There was no such thing as date rape back then.  If you were raped it was by a stranger or if it was by someone you knew there was a weapon of sorts involved.  I think MA was just lead by his hormones and was also lead to believe that if a woman doesn’t get up and leave or physically push you off – even if she is saying no – it must mean yes.  What he didn’t realize is that many times a woman just gives in to the aggressor because they think it will be less trauma and drama then if they don’t give it up.

Of course, after having these sexual encounters (none of which were enjoyable I assure you, I didn’t even know a woman climaxed until I was 22 years old) you get the dreaded “reputation”.  I mean dang, you do what you think is expected of you and then you get called a slut too.  But I had great friends, who didn’t know about what really happened between MA and myself, but who were very supportive and loving to me no matter what the rumors out there were.

My sophomore year I was dating a nice guy, but my perception of healthy relationships was so jacked up I ended up doing him wrong.  I had the hots for another guy and the opportunity to get with him came up.  I actually thought he would want me for more than sex (naive), so I left the party I was at with my boyfriend to go with this other guy.  We walked to Fernwood School and had sex behind the dumpsters.  Yeah, real classy.  We went back to the party and I will never forget the look on my boyfriends face – but what did I care really, all men were users in the long run anyway, right?  I brushed off my boyfriend and acted like I didn’t care, but I did.  Of course the new guy only wanted me for sex (surprise, surprise).  He and I became friends – what I would continue to do to guys that I had sex with – become friends, sometimes with sex, but most without.  After years of this I felt more comfortable just as friends – no jealously, no expectations, no hurting, no pain.

I trusted this friend of mine (we talked daily, we didn’t have sex, he was really my friend only) and  he and I planned to go to the “Depoe” – y’all 80’s kids know what I mean!  S (the friend) came and picked me up from my house.  He told me that he had to pick up something from his cousin’s house first.  We drove to his cousin’s house and I was going to wait in the car, but he wanted me to come in instead.  I went in the house and sat on the couch… what in the world was taking so long here.  S finally appeared in the living room and asked me to come upstairs.  I asked why and he said I need to talk to you.  Ahhhh ok, so I went upstairs.  It was pitch black, no light at all.  I was giggling up the stairs and tripping up each step, “S, I can’t see!” I said.  He told me he would turn the light on once we got up stairs.  When we were up there, he sat me on the bed and felt around for a light switch.  He said he couldn’t find it.  Then he sat next to me.  We were just talking but I heard all this racket coming up the stairs, I said, “What is that noise, who’s coming up here?”  S said it was just the wind blowing the posters in the room and to not worry about it.  S reached over and started kissing me; I thought it was strange and a little out the norm so I asked him what he was doing.  He just told me to hush.  Suddenly, there were several bodies on me, holding me down, pulling off my skirt and undies, I was screaming to stop, pushing and shoving them as hard as I could but I couldn’t get them off.  I assumed it was all the boys in the house (S plus 2 cousins).  After struggling for what seemed like forever, they let me go.  I heard running down the stairs as I tried to get my clothes back on and get myself together.  I wondered down the stairs and only saw 1 of the 3 boys in the house.  It was one that I didn’t know and wasn’t sure if he was involved in what just happened.  I asked him where S went (I was stuck there at this house and didn’t really know where I was). He said he and the other cousin left.  I asked what I was supposed to do now?  I had no way home; I sure as heck wasn’t calling my parents!  The cousin gave me a dollar and told me to catch the bus. I asked him where I was and where to catch the bus.

It was 1am in the morning and I was on 15^th and Dekum (back then it wasn’t in a white girls best interest to be alone on the corner of 15^th and Dekum just standing there.  I walked to the bus stop and waited for a bus.  I hid in the little church that’s on the corner there, scared out of my mind at what else could happen.  Finally a bus came going the opposite direction of where I needed to go.  I flagged it down and told him that something bad happened to me, all I had was a dollar and I needed to get home.  The bus driver told me to get on the bus because no more busses were coming the other way.  He told me he would take me along to finish his route then drive me home.  That nice bus driver drove me all the way to 33^rd and Broadway from the end of his route in St. Johns.  I will never forget him.