Joining the #MeToo movement by sharing a part of my story that I’ve not only never publicly divulged, but I also haven’t shared even with many of my loved ones, as well.
Out of shame, most likely.
The list goes on & on.
Why is it that even 13 years later, I still find it shameful for one of my boyfriend’s closest friends to have drugged & raped me?
Why is it that I’m still embarrassed to simply say one of my first sexual encounters was against my will?
Why is it that i still fear judgment when reliving a night that I woke up in a puddle of my own blood after repeatedly saying (crying, BEGGING) no?
Why is it that I still nurture those fragments of hatred for myself when I close my eyes & speak my truth?
Maybe it’s because I despise pity.
Maybe it’s because of all the people who called me a slut or a whore in their refusal to believe me.
Or, maybe it’s because of this ingrained idea that somehow I deserved it- that I ASKED for this horrendous act because of the way I dressed, or the way I danced, the way I smiled too suggestively in the wrong direction that night.
Despite my greater awareness & confidence in knowing this is not okay- this is NEVER okay, nor justified- I’m still cringing as I type every word here.
However, the beauty of this movement is illuminating the notion that I am not alone.
You are not alone.
WE are not alone.
And, we will be heard.
I am here to encourage YOU to let your story be heard, even if your voice is trembling as much as my own.
I’m here to tell you that I believe YOU can also let yourself be reborn- let yourself redefine who YOU are in spite of one (or countless) irreversible instance(s).
I’m here to tell you that I love YOU, even if you don’t feel like loving yourself today.
I believe in you.
Together, we rise 🔥
Portrait by my soul sister: @mondaynomads