Ever since I was a girl, I had an intense fear of being raped. I’m sure some of it had to do with the fact my mother was raped when I was four, and my father said it was her fault. She wasn’t supported at all, a fact that has saddened and enraged me for decades, particularly because it continues to be an unfortunate reality for survivors like us.
I was preparing to move from New Mexico to Oregon in the spring of 2010. A month before my planned departure—four days before my 24th birthday—I was raped by an acquaintance from my college yoga class.
I decided I wanted to leave my small town sooner than I’d planned then had so many troubles along the way that the whole trip felt chaotic.
So much of the time, when we survivors tell our stories, we’re met with the classic victim-blaming and shaming that society can’t seem to stop perpetuating. |
I hadn’t intended to tell anybody what had happened only a month before. I was embarrassed when, after we said good night, you heard me trying to keep my sobs quiet in the next room, and came out to ask what was the matter. Unexpectedly, the whole story came spilling out.
When the telling was finished, you held me. You said to me the best two sentences I’ve ever heard come out of someone’s mouth after I said I was raped, “I’m sorry that happened to you,” then “Thank you for sharing that with me.”
In those two sentences, alone, I heard other things you didn’t explicitly have to say.
“It’s awful this happened.”
“I appreciate your trusting me enough to be so vulnerable with me.”
“I’m here for you.”
In you words and in your embrace, I heard empathy, compassion, and a willingness to hold space for me, to take my lead in how I wanted to be supported.
That was exactly what I wanted.
So much of the time, when we survivors tell our stories, we’re met with the classic victim-blaming and shaming that society can’t seem to stop perpetuating.
We hear things like:
“What were you wearing?”
“Why were you out by yourself?”
“What did you expect would happen? You invited him in.”
We are constantly told that being raped is somehow something we bring upon ourselves, that we wanted to be victimized or that we deserved it.
Hearing things like that, and a plethora of other awful things I don’t have time to address here, is not helpful.
It meant so much to me that someone cared enough not to dismiss me, call me crazy, judge me, try to fix me, or otherwise push their own ideas on my situation.
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In my case, hearing victim-blaming and shaming from others negatively impacted my healing process. It made me feel unsafe. It made me feel unsupported. It made me feel as if no one was on my side, no one cared about what happened to me, no one wanted me around anymore, no one wanted to come near me. It definitely felt like some people thought I’d made it all up and was faking all the trauma for attention.
I felt so alone, so abandoned, that I felt I would be better off dead than to live through this.
It meant so much to me that someone cared enough not to dismiss me, call me crazy, judge me, try to fix me, or otherwise push their own ideas on my situation. The year that followed presented a lot of challenges for me, from dealing with the justice system to increasing PTSD symptoms, and in that year, I continued to lean on you for support. I felt safe enough to show my frayed edges in a way I don’t think I’ve ever shown anybody else. I showed you a part of myself I don’t usually feel safe enough to reveal.
We haven’t spoken for a long time, but I want you to know that having your support during such a trying time literally saved my life. Being held in that safe container that was created in our friendship gave me hope that I could get through this. It gave me the push I needed to find my way back up when I’d been knocked down. It made me feel seen, acknowledged, and loved.
And for that, I am grateful.
I never would have made it through without you, or the handful of other people who gave me their open-hearted support.
Thank you for holding me. Thank you for caring. Thank you for giving me your compassion and understanding. It meant the world to me.
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Photo: Getty Images
Juana, I too, am so sorry that you ever experienced such awful violation, nightmare and isolating, painful aftermath when every possible support was so deeply needed. Were it I having just heard your story and its pain, and without some clear overriding cue, I simply can’t imagine expressing my helpless and deep compassion physically, however. It would feel far too presumptuous and possibly risking further deepening a wound of broken trust for my arms to reach out, as a man specifically, desperately unnatural and sorrowful as it would feel not to. Any clarity on how men might better know when… Read more »
Tim, my point here was to share that I appreciated being given the lead, and being given compassion, empathy, and the opposite of the victim-blaming or shaming responses I received so widely. There were a few other men who’ve responded in ways that helped, but not all of the ways they responded were helpful. I think it would benefit anybody who would like to support a survivor to read up on trauma, to consider the personality of the survivor and the individual in front of you. Everybody grieves differently and needs different supports. I think it would be best to… Read more »
Thank you very much, Eric. I really appreciate your sharing your thoughts.
I hoped to share with folks through this post that their responses to survivors really do matter, and that they should take care to consider how they respond to a survivor’s story.
Thanks, again, for chiming in.
I love this site and the tough conversations that are handled so well. Thank you indeed for sharing your strength and your courage. I pray that the entire world decides we all can learn to do better, become better and change all that needs changing. Your story taught me a lesson that I hope I never need but am prepared to use. Thank you from a caring man.
Can only give you a cyber hug, Juana, but I’d extend that to anyone with this story. And yes, takes guts to share it. I’ve heard it from women before, and that is exactly what they got: big, safe, comforting hug.
Thanks a lot, DJ. Hugs back. My intention with this post is to inspire people to consider their responses when a survivor shares their story. It’s never an easy tale to tell, and it is important that survivors receive the support they need to feel safe enough to move forward with the healing process. It looks different for each person, of course, but I think this response generally made me feel safe enough and empowered enough to take charge of my own healing. It really was a sweet way to be held, and I liked that the focus was not… Read more »