I was 14 and dating this guy who was 19. He was the world to me because he was older and he didn't treat me like a kid. Well, things with him got out of hand and he started to become more and more controling. It started first with harsh words then hitting and eventually taking what he wanted from me all along. One night, while we were sitting in a friends room, he asked if we could have sex. I said no and he grew more and more angry. Finally, he just held me down and did it. I remember telling him no over and over again but he would not listen. It was like he blacked out. He wasn't seeing me he wasn't feeling me. He was just hurting me so much. When it was over, he got up and put on his clothes. He kissed me on the head and smiled the sweetest most innocent smile and he walked out of the room. He left me naked and shivering on the bed. I was screaming inside of my head but the words would not come out of my mouth. He did it 3 more times after that and hit me more times than I would like to remember. I got out of the relationship after my bestfriend threatend to never speak to me again. It has been 3 years but the pain is still there. I have a boyfriend now that I have been with for a year and 3 months. Everyday has been a struggle. It was not too hard to tell him what happend but it is hard to talk about with him. He is so supportive of me and he will stop at nothing to stop the pain. For 2 years after the rape, I would not be able to look at a man without feeling a horrible pain in my head. For 2 years, I was so depressed that sometimes, I would not get out of bed and sometimes, I could not go through the day sober. I am clean now. I know that it was never my fault and I am able to love again. My current boyfriend is like an angel that someone sent to me. He is caring and understanding. He trys to help me anyway that he can. We have gone through some very emotional times because of all of that stuff but!

we are still together. That boy can never hurt me again physically but emotionally, the pain will never go away.

Ashleigh
 


For 4 years I have had this feeling that I attract these guys who think I am easy to take advantage of. It's like I wear a sticker on my forehead that says "WHORE."

I have been stalked (and I use that term lightly) for over 10 years by a boy named Trenidy. I made the mistake of saying "hi" to him once in the hallway during first grade and up until last year, he has never left me alone. I got used to his creepy way of staring at me at school and the obscene phone calls at night, because I knew he was just a lonely little boy who didn't have any friends. Trenidy made idle threats that ranged from coming to my house and killing my family to rape (imagine an eight year old threatening to "throw you on the ground and fuck you"). He would push me onto the ground at recess and kiss me, trap me in the dark classroom when the class would leave for lunch and touch me. One day while I was at a friend's house he showed up and asked to talk to me on the side of the house. I agreed as long as he left as soon as he said what he had to say to me. He ended up trying to kiss me, touch me, I was getting angry but he wouldn't stop. When I slapped him he pushed me up against the wall and I banged my head pretty hard. He wouldn't stop until my friend came out and made him leave. I was so scared that I wouldn't come out of her house until my mom came to pick me up. I had huge bruises on my arms and a large bump on the back of my head. Trenidy was an asshole with a lot of problems and I learned to ignore him and found ways to avoid him, but I have always lived in fear of him, even to this day.

March of my 8th grade year I was spending the night at my best friend, Lindsay's house and her older brother, Jeff, had his best friend over as well. Jeff's friend, Kevin, was very good looking and I was interested in him (we had had a sort of "phone relationship" when I was in 6th grade but we had never met in person). Kevin woke me up at 4 in the morning with kisses. Lindsay had gone to her own bed and Jeff was asleep on the floor by the couch we were on. I didn't mind him kissing me, but when he started to take my shorts off I freaked out. I had never been that intimate with a guy before, but I thought that I could work my way around the situation. I must have blanked out, because the next thing I knew, I was laying naked in Jeff's bed with Kevin on top of me. I was lost. I couldn't remember how the hell I had gotten there and I panicked. I can still here my weak cries, asking him to stop. I thought that maybe if I just let him have what he wanted, he would leave me alone. I liked him, and I didn't want him to be mad at me, or think I was prude, but when he began to enter me, it hurt so bad that I yelled out. He covered my mouth and told me that I'd wake everyone up if I didn't shut up. I didn't realize how hard I was crying until he took his hand off of my mouth and I felt the tears running down my cheeks. I asked him repeatedly to stop, and he would, but as he would try to talk me into letting him do it, he continued to push himself inside me. Eventually, he pushed himself inside of me completely and I wish I could say that I detached from myself, felt numb, but I didn't have it that lucky. I felt every stab of pain like a thousand knives and I was too panicky to pretend I was somewhere else. I continued to cry and he hit me and told me I was being too loud. It wasn't long before he realized how much he was actually hurting me, and he stopped and got off of me. The last words he said were, "I knew you weren't gonna be any fun anyway."

I never told my family about it. Not even my sisters. It took me a long time to even tell Lindsay, but I think she understood. At least until she brought him to my house months later during Christmas Vacation. He just smiled and said that he missed me. I ran in the house and I haven't spoken to Lindsay since.

A couple months after Kevin, Trenidy called me and introduced me to his friend Brian. For being friends with Trenidy, Brian was so sweet and he was very compassionate. We talked for hours every night, and we established a "phone relationship." For some unknown reason, after we had decided to "break up," Lindsay (she was there, again) and I went to his apartment to hang out. While Lindsay made out in one bedroom with his friend Brad, Brian and I hung out in his room. He tried to kiss me and I would tell him that it wasn't right, I didn't like him like that. I got up from the bed (where we were sitting) to change the CD and he grabbed me from behind and pulled me to the bed. He was a pretty big guy, so when he laid on top of me I couldn't breath and couldn't get away. He kissed me and undid my zipper to put his hand between my legs. Flashes of Kevin flew by and with all my strength I pushed him off of me and bolted into the room where Lindsay was.

I never saw Brian again, but the attempted rapes didn't stop there.

I met a guy at Lindsay's church lock in one night (Again, Lindsay was present in this situation) and he and his friend trapped me in one of the Sunday school rooms and threatened to "give it to me." I was able to get away by threatening to scream, but the rest of the night they would find ways to get me alone and touch me.

I thought that all this was happening because I was sending off this vibe to guys. One rape, and two attempted rapes, all within a span of 6 months.

The last "incident" occurred this past summer when I went out of town with my friend to visit her sister. We were all drinking (me, my friend, her sister, her sister's husband, and their roommate, Anthony) and we all crashed in the living room, except my friend, who was sleeping in the master bedroom. I woke up, in a drunken haze, to Anthony trying to have sex with me. He was laying behind me on his side and he had my shorts down. I was too weak to fight him off, but I was able to move away from him and I made enough noise to make him nervous (others were in the room) so he left me alone.

I told my friend and she kind of laughed it off. That added to the feeling I had of being abandoned by my friends. Lindsay left me in the room alone with Kevin to sleep in her own bed. Lindsay had left me alone in the room with Brian so she could make out with his friend. Lindsay was nowhere to be found during the lock-in when I those guys were harassing me. My friend, N**** left me, passed out in the living room with a guy I didn't know, so that she could get a good night's sleep in a comfortable bed.

And I know it isn't their fault that these guys did these things to me, but it's easier to blame than to accept.

I have moved on. I am able to be sexually active without shame or fear. I actually enjoy sex. But I have never had sex within a meaningful relationship.

I have to learn from my past. Move on. But sometimes, when I least expect it, Kevin's scent is all around me and when I turn to look for him, he's never there. I can feel fingers at night, all over me, only to wake up and be alone. I have moved on, but I have not forgotten.

Please contact me at Heidihoe85@aol.com. I am always here to listen to those who don't feel anyone can hear them.

Keep Smilin'
Brandi
 


I wasn't raped..I was assalted by this guy. This was when I was twelve, 3 years ago. I was in my mom's friend's church's play, and I was the only girl my age in the play. There were three guys, each of them one year older then me. I got along fine with two of them, but one of them I didn't. He was mean and degrading. We would fight a lot during rehersals and he really didn't like me.

One day I was in a room alone with two of them. I look back at that now and realize how incredibly stupid it was for me to be there with them. The mean guy started to say mean things at me, so I threw a balled up piece of paper at him. He yelled "that's it!," grabbed me and threw me on the floor. He sat on my stomach and started to feel me up while pretending to tickle me. His friend watched the door. I layed there, screaming and crying. I thought he was going to rape me. After five or ten mintues I fought my way free, and I ran and hid. He started to chase after me, and I thought he was going to catch me and finish the job. I outran him and hid, and sat there and cried until my mom came.

I think the effects of how people treated the situation is what has always bothered me more then anything. I told my mom two days later, and she just told me "boys will be boys." My friends looked at me like I made it up just to get attention. I felt so bitter at everyone...I was angry at him for not raping me because no one took me seriously. I know that might sound silly, but I just wanted some kind of support, and I couldn't find it anywhere.

So I represed the feelings I was feeling. It was only a few months ago that I was finally able to feel it. I could remember looking up at the guy at the door, and see that pity in his eyes. I remember laying there and letting my mind wander, trying as hard as I could not to be able to feel what I was feeling.

Right now, I don't know what I'm going to do. So much time has passed. I feel that it's too late to get help, that I've already dealt with any feeling I'm ever going to feel about this again. I just keep represing all my feelings. People at school think I'm the happiest person that ever lived, but when I get home, I become very depressed. I need help, but I feel weird about getting it because all this time I've been told that it isn't that big of a deal.

Stephanie
 


It sickens me to know that rape and abuse is more prevalent in society, any society, then we give it credit for. and we must be the ones who hold all the shame, the guilt and blame. i want to tell my story so someone else out there doesn't have hold it inside any longer.

pain is not an accident by some savage god. it is real, and we can learn from it, or we can cower in its presence.

my mother brought me to this country when I was 4 years old. she told me she was bringing me to a better life. she married my father when I was 6. he was all i knew in the world. they didn't tell me the truth about my real father and family until i was 15. i was the stereotypical asian girl - quiet, shy, straight A student. but nothing was good enough for my parents. i was an honor student, head of community services, i worked a job, and yet, I was always being screamed at for being an ungrateful daughter for never appreciating everything my mother left behind to bring me here.

my story started when I was 9 years old. My stepfather, the only dad I knew in the world, came into my room and started touching me. I was 9 years old. I didn't know how to react. I didn't know the words of the places he was touching. I couldn't even look at his face. When it was over, I was confused, and he compounded it by telling me I was a "good girl" for not telling my mom and not screaming.

I didn't understand.

that year, my mom gave birth to my little sister, who I love more than anything in the world. here was someone who would love me. my father told me if I told anyone what he was doing, he'd makeit so I could never see her. so i let him touch me, i let him tongue me, i gave him blowjobs whenever he wanted. i had my first suicide attempt when I was 10. my mother caught me trying to hang myself. she gave me lemonade and told me life could be a lot worse then I was telling her. the molestation continued until I left for college. i tried telling my mother over and over what was going on, but she refused to hear me. and my dad kept coming into my room night after night. what made it worse was that he would leave me porn magazines underneath my door nights he didnt' come. he came in and talked to me when i was bathing. my parents didnt' believe in locks inside the house. i was alone, i had no privacy. my father told me I was "his" because he gave my mother and I a second chance at life. i "owed" him the caresses. the kissing. the fondling. the fingering. *I* owed *him*.

when I was 21, i had a nervous breakdown. i was finally caught self mutilating myself. i was institutionalized, and it all came out. that was the last year my father touched me. my mother still didn't understand. i don't think she ever will. we never talk about it. but she believes me now that "daddy" wasn't the man she married, and I wasn't the bad daughter I thought I was. it wasn't my fault, he was my *father* nothing I did would have changed the fact that there was something wrong with him to look at his daughter that way.

i'm 22 now. some days it's better then other days. some times i don't feel so guilty about my past. and i convince myself it really wasn't my fault. and some days i feel so helpless, tha ti didn't do anything to stop it.

but it wasn't my fault. and in the end, the pain made me a stronger person. thank you for letting me tell my story

Alexandrya
 


I have been reading the stories of people with tears in my eyes. There are times when i can completely put my experience out of my mind, completely separate out the memories from the person i am today. And there are times when i can't and feel completely consumed by it all. Here is my story and how i have dealt with it up til now.

I was a sophmore in college(almost 5 years ago) and had just resumed my on again, off again relationship with my long-time boyfriend. We had been through some really tough times that year and things seemed to be back on track in our relationship. I went out with some friends to a party. I got really drunk and even smoked alittle (this was how i was coping with the boyfriend difficulties). I ended up talking with this guy who was a friend of a friend. Myself and three of my friends ended up wanting to leave the party and return to our apartment on campus, where this guy generously offered to drive us there. Once we returned, my three friends went to hook-up with there respective others of the moment and me and this guy started kissing. I remember it was in my friends' room on the bottom bunk bed. I was comfortable kissing and hooking up alittle-however, things seemed to be moving so fast. He was pushing things along faster than i wanted to. Before i knew it, he was penetrating me with his finger where upon, i was saying how i didn't want to have sex with him. I made this very clear, somehow thinking my wishes would be respected. He asked me to go down on him where i declined. I knew this was a bad situation, And i was in no condition to be there at all. He put himself inside me and i was screaming to stop. And what was he doing and all that. Then he just got up and walked away into the bathroom. I didn't know if he had come or not, since i wasn't planning to have sex with him there was no condom involved. When he returned from the bathroom, he asked me when my last period was-i wasn't on the pill back then. It had been about two weeks prior to this night. Needless to say, i became pregnant and had the abortion.

i was so dazed. i was't sure what had happened to me and things sure were more complicated after i new i was pregnant. God, it all seems so surreal and yet, the pain and guilt are so vividly there. I had to make some big decisions. I chose not to tell my boyfriend at the time. I wasn't sure it had been rape and how would i really explain all this-we were only 19-and i couldn't handle losing this wonderful person on top of everything else. We stayed together for 6 more months through the abortion and all. I let him think it was his. And don't think, i have not realized how awful that was. I still regret not being honest with him about everything.

i think what's equally important is how i chose to cope with all this. I chose not to, basically, and especially after we broke up i was overwhelmed with feelings of worthlessness and guilt. The loss of control over the situation and the loss of who i thought i was and part of me was gone. I chose to numb myself to it all -2years of numbness and getting so messed up on a few occassions that i put myself at risk to be in other dangerous situations. I also have problems in relationships-trusting, being able to be free and enjoy sex, and feelings of unworthiness always surface and resurface. I don't know why i chose not to go talk with someone, anyone. To this day, very few of my close friends know what happened.

I am healing. I have resolved to go into counseling and get the help i need. I don't always have to feel like a damaged, defective person because of all this. I appreciate the opportunity to share my story and to share the stories of others. Everybody has their baggage and my next challenge is how to work through some of it. thank you for listening.

Amy
 


It is absolutely amazing to me how so many emotions here are familiar. After reading these stories, I feel the need to tell my own. At 17, I was the victim of an attempted sexual assault. As a male, I felt I should never talk about it, that if I did, people would make fun of me. (The only movie I'd seen a male rape in was Pulp Fiction, and it was treated as comic moment.) And as a gay male, I felt people would even tell me that I deserved it. I had not yet come to terms with my sexuality myself, so I bottled it up for two years.

I went to clubs at 17, and it was in the back storeroom of a club that I was attacked by one of the bouncers. The club being dead, we had started talking. He asked me to come to the back room, to continue our conversation, because he wanted to smoke a joint. There was a couch in the room, and we sat down. He slid his hand up my thigh, which I brushed away. That made him angry and he turned and grabbed me, pressing me down on the couch. I glanced at the door then and noticed he had pushed a chair against it. He was trying to undress me, trying to unzip himself, telling me "this is what you came for." I managed to kick him hard, and the next thing I remember is sitting in my driveway. I took a shower, went to bed, and never talked about it for two years.

It didn't occur to me at the time that I was almost raped. I thought that rape didn't happen to men. I was physically fine, he'd only almost raped me, I had gotten away. And I hadn't been to any clubs since. I didn't feel very emotionally different, maybe emotionless in a way, I cut off a lot of friends and let a lot of friendships die. I triggered two years later while visiting a friend of mine at school. She wanted to go out, and she dragged me to my first gay bar, and when I walked in, I began to cry (I tried to hide it from my friend), I didn't talk all night. She got a little angry that I wasn't any fun, and, I blurted out that I was almost raped in the back room of a club two years prior. That was the first time I had ever said it out loud. I am now 20, it's been three years. I can talk about what happened to me now, and that, I think, has been the hardest part. I have been in therapy, and I am more able now to look at this as an unfortunate situation in my li! fe, but nothing that was my fault. I wanted to share this because I have really gained courage and strength from reading the stories of rape survivors. I think the strength is in the sharing, and collectively, we ALL gain power each time a person says, "I won't be a victim anymore."
 


 so, i'm sure you hear this all the time...sob stories like mine. but you are the first person i've ever told this to. my problem is that i can't even call it the r-word. can't even say it. because it was all my fault....there were so many things that i should've done differently...that i could have prevented.

(*deep breath*...okay, here goes nothing)
i had gotten into a fight with my boyfriend, and was at a college party with my friend hil (he's a boy). i was in the mood to get piss-drunk, have fun and forget about my boyfriend for the moment... see, i saw him across the room, and (i don't know why) but i got this thought that i was going to flirt with this person and that would be an ego-boost, make me feel better. we were at a friend's house, so i got the feeling he was friends with people i knew (so that made his "okay, safe"). with hil egging me on, i proceed to get absolutely shit-faced drunk. i don't remember what i was talking to this boy about, i can't remember what he was wearing.

i don't even know his last name.

the last memory i have is sitting on his lap, my friend is playing his guitar and we're all singing oasis songs.....and the next memory is coming to in the dark in a strange room with him. i don't remember leaving, i don't know where i am.

and this is why i can't forgive myself. he's on top of me, getting more intent, and i'm not doing anything. i'm not screaming or crying or telling him to stop....i'm lying there like an idiot. like i'm dead. i'm not kicking or pushing or trying to get him off of me. it's getting ugly now, and i'm not doing anything! i distinctly remember him saying "don't worry, i'll pull out" and then i'm on my knees with my face in the mattress....and that's it. i blank out. (black out?)

when i wake up, it's morning, i'm naked and alone in a dorm room. he's gone. i put my clothes on and go home.

on my machine, my friend hil has left a message about how everyone at the party noticed me leaving with him. hil says, "i hope you got some last night, give me the details" ha! i crawl into bed and stay there for a day and a half. but then, it's life going on as usual. i see him around campus. he sees me and looks away like he doesn't have any idea who i am. his new girlfriend sits near me in american history class. i haven't told anyone about this, because what would i say? "hey, i got wasted at a party and let this guy have sex with me. and no, i didn't say no or fight back or defend myself in any way. nope, i just laid there and took it." because that's really what happened. to this day, i kick myself for not doing anything. for not saving myself. for not even trying. it was, quite literally, a case of making my bed and lying in it. and that was june 15th, 1996.

the aftermath? well, for one, my boyfriend blamed me, said i got drunk and whored myself out at the party...dumps me like trash. and i sort of believe him.

also, i flinch at any intimate touch. i can kiss and cuddle, but the second a guy slides his hand up my shirt or down beneath my waistband, i freeze instantly. i hate this. i hate the panic i get when i'm alone with someone i don't know. i have absolutely no...libido. i am not excited by anything....i feel like if i never have sex again, that's okay. i hate the sight of my own body. i don't want anyone to ever touch me again.

a couple months ago, i met a new boy, and for a tiny second, i thought he was different. i thought i could let down the wall. we spent the first month just talking. but one night, he started to go a bit faster and farther than i wanted.(and really, it was just some hot and heavy kissing) and it happened. i went dead again. needless to say, he wanted nothing to do with me. he called me on the phone to break it off, calling me frigid. i never thought my life would be like this. frigid at 22. unable to enjoy pleasure.

and just last night, i went to visit a friend of mine to see his new place. now, this is a person who i trust, a friend...and yet, being alone in his apartment made me so nervous and uncomfortable, i had to get the hell out of there.

is the rest of my life going to be like this? it's been almost three years.....i can't go on like this, being afraid of the male race, freezing up when they touch me.....feeling absolutely nothing when i should be feeling everything.

and, yet, if you met me, you'd never guess it. i'm the funny one, the jokester. i can make anyone laugh, and i always have a hilarious story to tell. my friends think i'm the best. a laugh a minute. but i'm doomed to——what? an eternity of emptiness because of one night of stupidity?

now you see why i can't call it "it". i read your story, and it made me cry. i am so in awe of your courage and your bravery. i wish i could have an ounce of your strength.

so, that's it. that's my story. thank you for listening. i'm sorry. if there's any way you could write back and tell me i'm not crazy, i would be grateful.

i've got to go now...i'm going to cry.

amie

 


 
 
Back to Barbados