#MeToo

I am not a writer. I am not a sharer. Well, not a real sharer anyway. I share a lot of inconsequential things. I share a lot of that. But I don’t really share what is deep inside.

I haven’t for 20 years.

So why did I start a blog today? Because some things need to be said. We must be brave and stand up. Speak up. What follows is what I wrote yesterday. Unedited.

Today, on my 36th birthday, as Christine Blasey Ford sits there, brave as can be, facing the person who violated her, being grilled by old white men, needing to relive her trauma, needing to prove that this happened to her when she knows it did, doing this all to help our country, I remember. I feel. Memories I don’t like to remember. Feelings I don’t like to feel.

I have not watched the news all week. I have not watched any clips anybody has posted on social media. I have not read most social media commentary on the issue. Every time I think of what is happening, tears start flowing.

Just over 20 years ago I was raped, after being molested for several years. I didn’t report it. He was my counselor. He was 30. He made me feel safe, until he didn’t. He made me feel special, until he didn’t. He made me feel loved, until I didn’t. He made me love myself, until I didn’t. These are only a few of the things that he took away from me.

Those of you who knew me back then know that my life very quickly spiraled out of control. Lacking any love for myself, lacking the belief that I deserved to feel loved, I harmed myself and others in so many ways. I was lucky. I had people who, while they didn’t know why I was spiraling out of control, helped me. I had family, friends, and people at my high school who refused to give up on me. For them I am grateful.

Once I told my family what had happened, several years later,I was still afraid to actually file a report. This had happened in Israel. After he raped me, I asked him why he did it. He answered, “because you live in the United States and there is nothing you can do about it.” I believed him. I felt powerless.

Years after I told my family, while watching an episode of Law and Order SVU, I was inspired. I was inspired by a character who faced her attacker, her rapist. I called my parents and told them I wanted to press charges. So the process began. Filing a report with the police, being contacted by the prosecutor (in Israel!), sharing and resharing and retelling my story. Reliving the pain. Convincing people this actually happened. How do you convince somebody that you were powerless? How do you convince somebody that you were raped?

When the trial came, I took three weeks off from college to travel to Israel to testify. Again, I was lucky. I had the man I was dating and my father there with me. I sat in the courtroom and faced my rapist. There were three judges: male, old, white. His lawyer ripped me to pieces. He kept twisting my words, insisting that I made this up, that this was a story of revenge for unrequited love. I was 15 when he raped me. He was 30! The judges allowed me to take a break. I was in tears. I was regretting ever speaking up. I was being re-traumatized. How was this worth it? How was this empowering? He was just raping me all over again, and this time with witnesses! Once again I blamed myself for my pain. Once again, it was all my fault.

But, at that moment I realized I needed to take my power back. I needed to gain control over this situation. I took a deep breath, marched back into the courtroom, and the questioning resumed. I stood my ground. I spoke strongly. I told them what he did to me. I didn’t let his lawyer twist my words. I was strong! I was in power! I did it!

After all this, the prosecutor decided to let him plead out. He was sentenced to 28 months in jail. Just over two years. I wasn’t the only victim of his. I wasn’t the only one from whom he stole innocence. He got to serve his 28 months and then go back to his family. He got to move on. This will live with me forever.

No woman deserves to go through that. No person deserves to go through that. Most of us never decide to come forward. Most of us never face our attacker. Most of us just bury it, blame ourselves, hate ourselves, cry in silence, and march forward.

No more.

#MeToo

#IBelieveHer

#IStillBelieveHer