By Kathy Blessin
I sat down with some of my female friends the other day and discovered that three out of five of us had been sexually abused within the last few years. Their stories of both the abuse itself and the aftermath are scary glimpses into the ugly side of human nature.
Katie fell asleep beside a trusted friend. When she woke up in the middle of the night, the guy had his tongue down her throat and his hand down her pants. In a daze she struggled to get him off. She fell asleep again and woke up the next morning a lot less trusting and certainly more fearful.
The guy sent her love poetry for a year afterwards, and letters about their future together. Katie gave them a ceremonial barbecue.
Janet was at a conference and had to get something from her room. One of her closest friends went with her. When they got there, he slapped her, threw her on the bed and violently attacked her. She bit his hand and screamed but no one came. She eventually escaped when someone knocked on the door, but the words of her attacker—”I didn’t realize you were so strong”—keep her imprisoned.
The next time she saw him he gave her a hug and told her that they should get together more often.
Daniella—on vacation in Hawaii—was walking down a supposedly patrolled beach with a family friend. She was violently raped.
Katie is open about what happened to her. She tells people she was attacked but has not taken legal action. And why bother anyway? Janet told her parents what happened and was ridiculed, first because they didn’t believe her and then because they thought it was her fault. She’s been in therapy ever since. Daniella has confided in a few close friends but her school marks have dropped and she still has nightmares.
Three out of five. It’s a scary statistic. And it’s right on par with a variety of studies that have looked at sexual abuse in Canada and the United States. Up to one half of women are sexually abused by the time they reach the age of 18.
After talking with my friends, I have a whole new outlook on things. I’m wary now of people I’ve known for years. At times I feel safer walking the streets alone than with someone else. I keep an emotional and physical distance from people as I have never done before, and quite frankly it scares the hell out of me.
The three men who attacked Janet, Katie and Daniella have taken away something that can never be replaced. This is not necessarily a male/female issue, but is perhaps more an issue of power. The power to cross over boundaries and the power to hurt someone not only physically but sexually and mentally. All three men remain to this day—in their twisted minds—totally oblivious to the pain they have inflicted; leaving the emotional baggage and consequences on three young women.
All Janet, Katie and Daniella can do is sit and talk about their experiences, too intimidated by a judicial system so ineffective it lets drunks get away with sexual brutality. And too intimidated by a “She had to have asked for it in some way” stigma attached to women who take their fight to the courts. Too ashamed, just too damned ashamed. It just doesn’t seem fair now, does it?
Please note: Janet, Katie and Daniella are pseudonyms.
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