I’ve Got the T-Shirt and the Trauma Response to Go With It

James Landrith discusses life as a male survivor and recounts his experience of rape at the hands of a woman. 

As a vocal male survivor, when I’m not talking about sexual violence in writing or before audiences, I’m reading about it in many contexts and sources. A great deal of what I see on a daily basis is directed at men with the assumption that we know nothing about sexual violence or have no experiences that parallel those of female survivors.

Those making such arguments are often NOT sexual violence survivors themselves. Encountering such memes can be quite painful when you are a rape survivor yourself. The problem is not that female survivors receive the majority of the attention when sexual violence is discussed. The problem is that when sexual violence is discussed with regard to male survivors, there is often resistance, condescension, and outright mockery by people who quite often have not experienced such violence themselves. For those who have lived through abuse at the hands of women, that can be doubly wounding.

I’ve lived through sexual violence. I have my own story and my own experiences. I have my own triggers and my own issues. I don’t need to be educated. I don’t need to be taught what to do or not do. I don’t need any proven statistical bias to legitimize my life or my experiences. I lived it.



Approximately twenty years ago I met a friend at a club in Jacksonville, North Carolina. He came with a female friend. During the night, he disappeared leaving his friend by herself and without a ride. As she was pregnant and without a ride, I agreed to take her home when I left. She had not been out in a while and wanted to stay until the club closed that night. While she was not drinking, she bought me a few thank you drinks for agreeing to drive her home.

After a few drinks, I became very tired and disoriented. I never drank until I got drunk, especially when driving and off base. I didn’t like the feeling and it wasn’t secure off base. I just figured I was tired and had too much without realizing it. There was a motel next to the club. She suggested we get a room and sleep it off, then I could drive her home in the morning. I agreed as I was rapidly losing the ability to think or see straight.  She got us a room with double beds and we split the cost.

I vaguely remember laying down with my clothes still on. I probably took off my shirt per the norm, but I left my pants on. I did not feel comfortable taking my pants off around this strange woman. She warned me that she did not want to have sex and I remember saying that I was seeing someone and was not at all interested in that either. I laid down on my side of the room and was out almost immediately.

At some point in the night, I awoke to find her on top of me. I said something I cannot remember and she coaxed me back to sleep. I doubt very much that she could even understand what I was saying, given how disoriented I felt at that time.

The next morning, after the sun had risen, I woke again feeling confused and unsure of where I was or what had transpired since getting off work on Friday afternoon. My pants were nowhere to be seen, my underwear also missing and my penis was erect. I realized that she was on top of me, grinding and moaning. I didn’t know what to think. I wasn’t fucking her. I didn’t want to fuck her. Who was she again? I moved as my legs were stiff and sore from being in the same position for hours with her on top of me.

She darted her eyes at me and told me not to move. I was ordered “don’t be forceful.” She then asked if I was trying to rape her when I could not remain perfectly still and again told me not to move. In addition, I was told that I could hurt the baby if I tried to stop it. After she finally finished, I was still expected to drive her home.

In short, I was drugged, raped, threatened and had a baby used against me as a human shield. To say that experience left me messed up would be an understatement.

Put yourself in my shoes for a minute. I was under 21, drinking illegally in a club, while on active duty with a local, pregnant civilian. Why didn’t I report it? Read this paragraph again and think about it harder if it eludes your grasp.


The Reaction

How did I react? I buried it deep and pretended it didn’t happen, which is a common reaction for male survivors. That did not mean that it had no effect on me. I simply pretended it didn’t happen. I called it a bad night and said she was a little twisted.

As one therapist would later tell me, denial of trauma does not mean it isn’t affecting you. I believe she said that if unacknowledged, the effects would “come out sideways” and in a manner that may not be easily identifiable. For me, that was a sudden and ridiculous promiscuity that did not exist before the rape. I began to act out sexually by sleeping with any woman who offered. I turned down no one, to include several much older, married women. I did not seek out sex, I simply said yes every time.

To say that I was reckless then would be accurate. I was risking exposure to disease and potential violence from angry husbands and boyfriends. I did this for about three years before getting married and further stuffing the memories down further. Further, I lost nearly all trust in women – especially aggressive and loud women.

Nearly twenty years later, I decided to confront it. The time had come to do something about it. I sought out assistance and began to see a therapist. I spent a lot of time on me, thinking, analyzing and progressing. It was painful, but necessary work. I’m not done with it. I don’t know that I’ll ever be truly done.

While in therapy, it was as if the bandage had been ripped off suddenly and the wounds were newly raw. I had panic attacks, crying fits, sudden anger and loss of time. I felt exposed all the time, everywhere.

I had trouble being alone with a woman in a confined space like an office or elevator. Some days, I didn’t even want to stand next to a woman in line for a cup of coffee. Remember the controversy in the feminist blogosphere over strange men talking to women in an elevator? Reverse the sexes and I lived it. For me, the issue wasn’t hypothetical or used to demonstrate which gender has it worse with regard to potential sexual violence. It was based on an actual trauma response. The back and forth over why men should expect to be viewed as rapists by women in elevators took on a whole new level of offensive when viewed through the lens of my own experience.

I felt guilty all the time. I still feel guilty quite often. I feel guilty because I don’t trust women I don’t know. I feel guilty because I sometimes view women, particularly loud and aggressive white women, as potential threats to my well-being and mental health. I feel guilty because for a long time, I couldn’t look at a pregnant woman without seeing that sick woman from so many years ago.

I still struggle with some of these issues today, but not as often and not always in such intensity as before.  Presently, I have returned to my prior human resources career. This field is dominated by women and has proved a big test for me.

The biggest test is sometimes just getting through the day without losing it. Some days I pass without issue, on other days I just have to give myself a hall pass so I can get on with my life.

—Photo Unlikely Ghost/Flickr



  1. How did I get PTSD when I’ve never been in the military?
    By James W. Love, M.Ed.

    Until my marriage crumbled in the close of the eighties I had very little knowledge of the psychology of spouse abuse. That is often the case with the abused even educated ones like me. Yes, I am a male spouse abuse victim or I was for twelve years. This may seem strange since I am extremely well read. As soon as I started reading in the first and second grades my Mother; who only had been allowed to attend the third grade of public school, always found money for books. Being mountain folk we were quite industrious. So, in addition to my Dad working in the local paper mill also we ran a reupholstery business and had about an acre and a half of garden plus a Burley tobacco crop. So, a few dollars here and there was not a problem especially since I was an only child.
    During high school I was homosexually seduced by someone I thought of as a brother. It profoundly changed my life. It was the sixties and gay was worse than being black in a small Southern Appalachian town. So I was never allowed to date. I don’t mean that my parents wouldn’t let me date; the entire town wouldn’t let me date. So a few years later when I entered college everyone that knew me was amazed. Because I didn’t just date I would often take two and three girls on a date at the same time. The little college town that was near the college had nothing in the way of entertainment. Two restaurants, a one screen movie house, and a liquor store. Of course, there were a number of gas stations but they didn’t count when it came to dating.
    My favorite place to hangout happened to be the Baptist Student Union because it was easy to make friends with all the girls there. Of the eighty or so students around half were female. So my friends from my high school that were also attending the same college were shocked when I went down the street with three beautiful young things in my car. Getting the dates was simple. My parents’ house was about twenty to thirty minutes from a fair sized city that had two duplex theatres, an adult theatre, bunches of restaurants and a new mall! For 1971 it was pretty tricked out. In addition my parents were the epitome of Southern Hospitality. So my undergraduate years were not lonely at all. But as I started my senior year I was uneasy about what came after school. Because I knew that after I finished my degree in Blind Rehabilitation that I’d be back out in the cold cruel world and that was really scary.
    In my first semesters of grad school I didn’t have time to be lonely. In graduate school you learn to sweat blood. But I had the summers off. This allowed the professors to monitor second year students’ internships.
    That summer while visiting friends and an old girlfriend at my alma mater I met my future wife. She was in a summer program for visually impaired students and her room was next to my old girlfriend. Since the incoming students in this program were encouraged to mingle with the old timers we saw a lot of each other. So I asked her out and it was lust at first sight. We had sex on our first date. Often after that I would show up on weekends and we would spend the whole weekend in bed. Actually even if it was the Swingin’ Seventies that wasn’t a good thing. We only had three real dates. So summer was a blur of lots of sex some chit chat and not much else.
    When I returned to grad school I missed all of the lust and companionship. Of course I had given her my number. But since she was visually impaired we could also exchange boxes of cassette tapes and not have to pay postage. So I was soon spending hours and hours taping to her and on Saturdays I would spend a couple of hours on the phone. Looking back though I realize that all of this was feel good chit chat; I didn’t get to really know this hot little number that I was thinking about marrying. After all I was a psychology major and getting a masters, boy were those famous last words.
    When I returned at Christmas I asked her to marry me. Twelve years later as I was being tossed out with the garbage I was informed that she had never really loved me; she was trying to get away from her insane father.
    I would learn a couple of months after we married that over a number of years her father had developed into a paranoid schizophrenic with heavy layers of ritual behavior and delusions in her early adolescence.
    During our marriage he was constantly being sent to the state mental hospitals and wound with a full mental disability check from DSS. After we separated I was to realize that my wife had been a victim of severe sexual abuse as a child and teenager. Unfortunately, she had been taught to be adamantly opposed to any type of therapy. For twelve years I tried constantly to get her to get therapy. To my knowledge she never has.
    I think it’s ironic that she chose to be silent about all of these problems. Because if she had enough courage to come out about these issues right after we married our marriage could have been her happy ending. Instead I slowly descended into hell.
    Understand that what I’m talking about is behavior that usually at normal levels being ramped up to extreme levels. It’s normal for couples to argue but it’s not normal for one of the people to still be going after the other one at 3 AM; and that was a regular part of my life.
    When I started to work for the state of SC I was extremely lucky to get a job at the School for the Deaf and Blind. In fact by the second winter I had a house a mile from the school. Since my job involved constantly walking it was a short stroll away. But when the school year ended they had me to be itinerate; I had half the state for a territory! That summer I would put over 50,000 miles on my car. I would be between clients or waiting on the rehab teacher that I worked with and would walk around in a mall to get away from the 1050 heat that was blanketing the state. One time I saw some really cute china horses in a gift shop and they were only a dollar a piece. Knowing that my wife loved horses I got her three or four.
    When I got home not only did I get yelled at for being late. It was around seven when I finished but for the next two weeks I was yelled at for rubbing it in that I got to drive all over the state and she couldn’t drive. I soon learned never to say anything about having to make long drives after a hard day’s work; that was my rubbing my being able to drive in her face.
    When the job fell through in SC (because I had a co-worker that no one could work with) I was forced to leave Blind Rehab. She didn’t want me to be itinerating. I was offered a position with the Commonwealth of Virginia; they had three openings and they wanted to show them to me and let me take my pick but no I had to retrain and work in factories. For the next eight years I was working in hell. I loved working with people not in factories. By that time she had finally forced me to have a kid. I had been trying to avoid children because I didn’t want to expose them to her. But the demands about work didn’t stop there; she always had a DSS check because of being born with RP. So she would suddenly decide to go visit her mother, I had to call into work and take her. It might be for a weekend or it might be for several days. Thankfully she could only handle her mother for so long; the woman was a bitter person who constantly complained and was totally cold. Once my wife told me that she couldn‘t believe it when she started being around my parents. Because they were constantly telling each other that they loved each other and rarely even said a cross word.
    Because of my having to lay out and frequent taking off to appease her I couldn’t even keep a job with temporary services. In 1988 I had to be listed with seven different agencies just to keep from starving. In fact, that winter things got so bad that I had to sell all of my books to get food. I had several dozen autographed copies of Science Fiction.
    I hate to think of all of the good jobs I had to quit. Even if things were going great I would be expecting it to go to hell because it was going good. A number of times I was offered permanent jobs and promotions that I had to turn down because she didn’t want me to have any raises and such. Several times it also cost me the temp job! She didn’t care because we always had her DSS check and Foodstamps!
    But the humiliation didn’t stop there. Early in our marriage my wife would act very suspicious and try to cover things up. Being a trained observer as an Orientation & Mobility Specialist and having a degree in psychology I knew that as early as two months after our wedding she was fooling around. While we were in Jackson, MS we went to the swimming pool several times so I had bought her a string bikini to ware. I enjoyed having other men stare at her; my trophy wife. She would often flirt with the janitors at the place where we were staying and “work on her tan” while I was at work doing my internship for graduate school. Later when we moved to South Carolina she would hang out with the neighbors in the apartment complex we were in. When I asked her about it she said that she was just smoking a joint with him and the guys. She was always complaining about the fact that my having to be careful about image. Smoke a joint; I couldn’t even go to a bar to have a beer and I bought our whiskey when we visited one of our parents since each was far away from the kids at the schools parents.
    About nine months after we arrived we were in a house that we had bought and she confessed that she had been being a “slut” and having sex with the guy next door.
    I told her that I had known just by the way that she was acting that it was very obvious. But it only excited me. I showed her some old men’s’ magazines with stories about men sharing their wives with other men that I had kept for years. Polyamory was not known to me then, but now I live by a simple philosophy I don’t put limits on love. During our marriage my wife introduce me to twelve of her lovers; who knows how many others there were. So yes the sex was incredible but because of how badly I was treated out of the bedroom it wasn’t worth.
    Just before I was kicked to the curb I learned how little I meant to my wife. I was working a brutally hard job at a blanket factory. I was filling boxcars with forty pound boxes of blankets. We were only allowed a twenty minute break for lunch; so by the end of the day I was so tired I could barely drive home. I fell on the bed when I came into the house. My wife was on me pulling at my clothes. At first I thought that she was helping me to undress so I could sleep. But she kept saying that she had to have sex right then. I tried to push her off but she only laughed and started working to give me an erection. As soon as I was erect she mounted and got herself off. As she rolled off she laughed and said, “See I knew you’d enjoy it.” I dropped to the pillow thinking; “So that’s what rape feels like.”
    A couple of months after that she told me to hit the door that I was totally worthless. Looking back it seems silly that I was shocked when the therapist informed me that I had PTSD.

  2. Peter Houlihan says:

    Intellectually I had fully accepted that women could be sexual victimisers just as men could. I knew aggressive women, I knew aggressively sexual women, but until I read your very person encounter with this kind of behaviour somehow I hadn’t really believed it.

    Thank you for sharing. More stories like this need to be told.

    • I’ve heard a similar sentiment from other before Peter. Usually, at least a few people will approach me after a presentation on a campus or church to remark that they never really realized how it could affect a man.

      It will take more time to get our stories (male survivors and female survivors of female predators) included in the greater narrative of sexual violence. The more of us who speak out, the faster that will occur.

  3. James, thank you so much for your courage through your experience and sharing it with others. I know how difficult it is to go through rape as I have been in similar shoes in my life. Whether it is from a man or woman, it is absolutely unacceptable and wrong. Each day, I believe we are healing little by little, and learning to love ourselves even more for what we went through. Sometimes it’s hard not to feel like a victim, but people like you give me strength to be a survivor.

  4. Like a Lie Detector Test (Polygraph Test), there is an urgent need to develop “brain monitoring” techniques which are currently at an experimental stage. Once such a procedure is perfected, and implemented as a judicial tool, it should expose MANY people and relieve all those who have been falsely accused of crimes, not just related to sexual abuse/assault/violence, but overall.

  5. Wow, thank you for sharing your story. I actually held my breath during the second part of it and felt panicked.
    It is one thing to understand that rape is something that can occur to men and should be treated the same way as female rape, but another to actually hear it from the perspective of a victim. This is an article I’ll share with my friends.

  6. I loved this article and appreciate your courage to speak about your trauma. However I, like a few others here, was also thrown off by your reference to “elevator gate.” (I was also surprised that you responded so angrily, because her tone didn’t strike me as impolite in the least) like her, I found myself thinking “why doesn’t he understand where those women are coming from when he himself feels the exact same way?” if you were to avoid me in an elevator or an empty parking lot, I wouldn’t get angry with you in the least because I know what it’s like to be triggered back to a traumatic memory. Something doesn’t really add up here…

    • Cathy,

      Thank you for taking the time to write. As I have explained repeatedly along with many others, the elevator-gate reference is not AT ALL how you portrayed it. I am not talking about REAL PEOPLE WITH REAL FEARS, but the ridiculous hypothetical argument made by some extremists that all men SHOULD be treated like rapist because SOME are rapists. Once again, I AM NOT TALKING ABOUT REAL PEOPLE WITH REAL FEARS. Okay?

      Really. I’ve explained this REPEATEDLY. Suzy, and one troll who found many of his abusive and off-topic posts deleted, refused to even NOTICE that and kept going back in time to pretend it means something else entirely. Several other commenters have also called that out, to include some female survivors as well.

      I’m done with people misrepresenting my words for their own purposes.

      • Adam Antoszek-Rallo says:

        It was perfectly clear the first time you wrote it. Anyone who does not understand is either severely linguistically challenged, or most likely just not putting in the appropriate effort to understand perceptions beyond their own point of view. Thank-you for writing. All of this.

  7. By the way, this article has been linked to and quoted by Andrew Sullivan on two separate occasions:



    Hopefully, that will help change a few minds with regard to male survivors, victim-blaming and the healing process.

  8. I’m very saddened by this story but also hoping that your story will help others to come forward. I myself understand what you’ve been through and burying it etc …..so I’m proud whenever survivors can come forward and speak out.

  9. This woman was either severely messed up or disgustingly manipulative. Who uses a pregnancy as an excuse for rape? That is sick. No wonder you couldn’t seek help for such a long time, I’m glad you did in the end

  10. Braden Schecter says:

    I just want to pop in and say thank you to James. This comment thread seems like a bit of a mine-field, and one based mostly on people’s assumptions and misunderstandings. Suffice to say, James, telling your story was brave. Your honesty and insightful observations are both necessary and helpful. As a fellow survivor of sex abuse, I salute you.

  11. James,
    I am so sorry for what you have gone through, and are still going through. Sadly, being a ”survivor” of a sexual crime does not mean that you don’t struggle daily with the emotional aftermath.
    I am a survivor of a sexual assault as well, and I experienced many of the same things that you did. I can remember a point where I was irrationally afraid of going to retrieve my MAIL. I would run from the front door to the mailbox…terrified. Even if there was no one outside.
    I also remember feeling that no man could understand, as it was something that is DONE to a woman. A completely flawed way of thinking on my part! I guess I needed for whatever reason to selfishly think that way for a short time.
    It took me many years to realize that I fought a battle for my life, and more importantly, I WON. As did you.
    I think it is important for victims, as well as people in general to realize that it IS a fight…to get what you feel is normalcy back.
    I’m proud of you.

  12. I’m sorry to say, so many people get stuck in stereotypes. I do what I can (not much) in the feminist community to treat people like people, not as stereotypes. This means carefully separating ideas, and trends, and feelings from each person you talk to. It’s a shame that we need (and I do mean need) people like you who experience the lesser statistic to speak up just for people to even understand what that statistic means.

    But thank you for sharing with us, it helps me understand more. :)

  13. Though it is unfortunate that you went through something so traumatically disgusting, it wasn’t life threatening as it is when it’s men against women. Overall, men are far more violent (for example, war is not a product of femininity) and that sucks because men are physically stronger 99% of the (biological) time. Some women are raped SO hard that thy can never have children. Some women are even murdered after rape, because the rapist doesn’t want to be identified. Men don’t usually tell their stories of abuse because they want to appear strong, but for every man, there are hundreds of victimized (silent) women. So I apologize for not being too sympathetic, it’s just that your (rare) experience was merely unfortunate, NOT widespread & detrimental.

    Editor’s Note: This comment has been addressed by the article’s author at the following commentary – http://goodmenproject.com/on-rape-and-sexual-violence/dear-allison-or-vile-female-rape-apologists-are-vile/

    • James A. Landrith says:


      Anyone who believes that sympathy, empathy and compassion should be granted based SOLELY on the basis of gender is not much of a person to begin with, nor are they someone who should be trusted around survivors. You strike me a dangerous individual attempting show a little fake concern. What happened to me was not “unfortunate.” It was traumatic. It is called rape. It isn’t called “unfortunate.”

      I was raped. It left me mentally and emotionally wounded, unable to trust women and shaped my future life in ways that a person like you could never comprehend. I’d call that detrimental.

      Do you know what someone who actually cares about survivors does? The opposite of what you did here. I get that you aren’t sympathetic. That much was clear by your promotion of hierarchy of survivorhood and blatant, callous minimization of male survivors and your outright trivialization of what I endured.

      It isn’t your right. Take your hate somewhere else and tell your friend not to send anymore flunkies after me. If you or her attempt to harass or minimize my experiences again, I will name names.

      I don’t tolerate bullies. Your friend is a bully.

    • “Though it is unfortunate that you went through something so traumatically disgusting, it wasn’t life threatening as it is when it’s men against women.”

      You are a rape apologist, Allison. You are a rape apologist.

      Just sit with that for a while.

      • victoria sanders says:

        I think your comment is not helpful. Having your life threatened does not come in a form of having a gun held to your head. A comment, a statement, feeling helpless, forced to do something you did not plan on. All of these are threats. I cannot understand the thinking of a person who does not believe a man can be sexual assaulted or raped. Did you not hear about the priests in the Catholic Churches? So many young men unable to find a way out of being a victim because a priest would never do THAT.
        Just for perspective I will tell you I was raped, held down, but no my life was not threatened. Did that change the outcome for me? No, 28 years later I found myself having symptoms that made me almost take my life. I carried the blame because I was not held at gun point. Yes he was stronger than me but that is not the reason he was able to rape me. He raped because he was a predator. Women can be predators too. He was able to gain my confidence enough to take me to a place where he could rape me. You myopic view is part of the reason men cannot come forward. I have heard women tell me stories of being raped while having a weapon. They feel guilt because they could have defended themselves. To them and to you I say, when you are assaulted shock sets in, then fear, then shame, those are just some of the many feeling you have. You don’t know where to turn, who to trust, can you even trust your own feelings? Those feelings of’ I caused this’ take over you stuff and stuff until one day it all comes out. I hope it never happens to anyone you love because you would not be helpful.

        • Allison, it repulses me how unsympathetic you can be considering you have also been raped. Yes people sometimes do have weapons held against them and that is awful. However, James had a rapist on top of him who he could not defend himself from because she was pregnant, and the fact that the stupid media and public portrays rapists as only being men, meant that she could easily yell rape and be sent to prison and in my opinion that is far worse than having a knife held up to you. Why dont you go be a heartless bitch somewhere else because unlike you, all the rest of us are proud that James can tell his story and spread awareness about female perpetrators.

  14. EmpoweredOKC says:

    Some of the comments here are very appalling. In particular, there are some replies that actually treat James with unqualified contempt, simply on the basis of his gender, in order to make the point that rape is far worse when it happens to females. I have no argument with the facts that men perpetuate rape more often, or that women are victimized more often, or even that the physical harm done to women tends to be far worse–crime statistics bear out ALL of those. But that’s not where the hostile commenters left the argument. No, for some reason they thought to to advocate for these facts, they also had to disparage James. And I don’t get that at all.

    Look, it does NOT benefit the Survivors’ Movement to be seen acting so shabbily. One does not successfully advocate for Survivors (be they female or male) by firing off words of contempt at another rape victim based on the premise that HIS victimization is somehow less “valid” purely because he’s male. Not only does that not contribute to the anti-rape movement, it actually contaminates it with unnecessary hostility. I was appalled to see that someone actually thought that taking cheap shots at James was a healthy step toward positive anti-rape action. It’s not; it’s merely sexist, condescending, and counterproductive.

    It is true that most rapists are male. It is NOT true, however that rape is a “male behavior.” We need to be very, very clear on this, lest someone persist in their misconception that bashing men (including male victims) is synonymous with oppsing RAPE. It’s not. It’s merely lazy thinking. Just like lamely saying “I apologize for not being sympathetic”–such a comment is clearly not an apology, and tends to reveal more about the personal sexist biases of the person hissing it out than about the broader issue of rape and gender. I would personally be ashamed of myself to be found publicly telling a rape survivor, “I’m not sympathetic” because of their gender. Bottom line: if you can’t talk about this complex and difficult topic without resorting to bullying, sexism, and cheap shots, DON’T mistake yourself as an “ally” or “advocate” for survivors.

    • “It is true that most rapists are male.”

      Given that until very recently (and still in many places of the world) in order for something to be considered “rape” it had to be sexual assault using a penis, and that in still more places it only counts as rape when the victim is penetrated (not, say, enveloped) How can you actually be sure this is the case?

  15. That’s so terrible! I’m really sorry that happened to you. I’m sorry a woman did that to you & while I wasn’t the one who did it I’m really sorry that we as women have ever done anything to hurt you or make you feel unsafe. I really hope that your journey to full healing is as swift & gentle on your heart as might ever be possible in such a circumstance.

    • You as women, the whole group, did nothing it was a woman, singular, that did it so don’t worry. Just like when a man, singular, rapes a woman it doesn’t mean that men, the whole group, did anything to her.


  1. […] This comment was from Justin Cascio on James Landrith’s post “I’ve Got the T-Shirt and the Trauma Response to Go With It.” […]

  2. […] my CNN column on the change in the Justice Department’s definition of rape to include men to “I’ve Got the T-Shirt and the Trauma Response to Go With It” to my buddy who was the first to come forward in the Boston priest scandal going […]

  3. […] am a male rape survivor of a female rapist who drugged a drink and then raped me repeatedly over several hours while unconscious and […]

  4. […] What’s it like to be a male survivor of rape at the hands of a woman? James Landrith tells his story. […]

  5. […] in the discussion were Curtis St. John of MaleSurvivor.org, James Landrith, who published his own story on The Good Men Project (yes, we often give TGMP grief here, but kudos to them for publishing James’ piece), and AVfM […]

  6. […] male survivors of assault by men. That’s why we’ve been so grateful to writers like  James Landrith and Levi Greenacres, who have shared their stories with The Good Men Project community in the […]

  7. […] may also like: I’ve Got the T-Shirt and the Trauma Response to Go With It by James […]

  8. […] January 15, 2012, I told my story to the world via The Good Men Project. This article was quickly one of the most popular on GMP for months. It gained traction again […]

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