June 17, 2011
“I was wearing jeans and t-shirt, is it my fault too?”SlutWalk Toronto 2011. My sign. I had mixed feelings about holding my sign at the SlutWalk. It was the first time I really identified myself as a survivor, because for months I was in denial about being raped in the first place. I posted a photo of my sign on the SlutWalk facebook site before the walk, and I had someone message me telling me that my sign hit home with them, and if they could use the same sort of sign too. If you google SlutWalk, guaranteed that her photograph will flood the results. Having someone else there with a similar sign helped. So did meeting P. Her sign said “Boxing Day 1985. 14 years old. Bundled in layers. How did I deserve it?” I wanted to cry as soon as I saw her. She came up to me and gave me a hug. It was the best hug I’ve ever had. Her hug was the first one I received that day, but it wasn’t the last. Words of encouragement from random strangers included ‘it wasn’t your fault,’ and ‘you’re so brave.’ After a while, I started to believe it. And I held my sign high and I can honestly say that that day was the first day I was okay about what happened. After that, I started to move on.

“I was wearing jeans and t-shirt, is it my fault too?”
SlutWalk Toronto 2011. My sign.

I had mixed feelings about holding my sign at the SlutWalk. It was the first time I really identified myself as a survivor, because for months I was in denial about being raped in the first place.

I posted a photo of my sign on the SlutWalk facebook site before the walk, and I had someone message me telling me that my sign hit home with them, and if they could use the same sort of sign too. If you google SlutWalk, guaranteed that her photograph will flood the results.

Having someone else there with a similar sign helped. So did meeting P. Her sign said “Boxing Day 1985. 14 years old. Bundled in layers. How did I deserve it?” I wanted to cry as soon as I saw her. She came up to me and gave me a hug. It was the best hug I’ve ever had.

Her hug was the first one I received that day, but it wasn’t the last. Words of encouragement from random strangers included ‘it wasn’t your fault,’ and ‘you’re so brave.’ After a while, I started to believe it. And I held my sign high and I can honestly say that that day was the first day I was okay about what happened.

After that, I started to move on.

5:40pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZnckLx6BODIi
(Notes: 8)
  
Filed under: slutwalk toronto feminism slut poster 
June 17, 2011
a letter i never sent.

To the man who raped me,

I know who you are, but you don’t deserve a name. Giving you a name personifies the monster inside you, because that is all you are.

I know you will say it was my fault. We both did the drugs, I know. We both drank, I know. I will agree with you and your fancy lawyer on both of those counts. I will disagree, however, with the fact that my consistent ‘no’s and removal of your hands from my body meant that I wanted to have sex with you.

I know that you know you are guilty, because the last things you ever said to me were ‘can we talk about this?’ ‘you were sleeping’ and ‘well you didn’t say no.’ But I did. And you know I did. And in my sleep, that very night, I changed. I woke up to the most unimaginable fear and the hardest journey I would ever have to encounter.

I know the stigma and the humiliation that come with being a rape victim. I know the nightmares, the flashbacks and the ‘what-if’s that run through my mind constantly. I blame myself for what happened, you know. I feel that I put myself in that situation, that it could have been prevented. But then I realize that you could have prevented it too. You had a choice.

I know now that I have a choice as well. And I made mine with every ounce of vengeance and anger I have inside of me. I chose to hold you accountable for your actions. To lay charges and live through the ordeal every single day until you are seen for what you really are under the eyes of the law.

I know I am stronger for what you did to me. I know I am a different person for what you did to me. I know I dropped out of my dream program at my dream college because of what you did to me. And I will make for certain, through either jail time or a couple of guys with a baseball bat, that you will face the consequences to your actions.

I know that your two or three years in jail will not make up for what you have done to me. I know that the vision I get when I close my eyes won’t go away anytime soon. You’ll probably even get probation or a fine. I got a life sentence. I have to wake up everyday knowing that I was raped, and knowing that it was you that did it to me.

I know that you will rot in hell, and I know that I will rise above this. You want to know why? Because I am a survivor, not a victim. And even though you took away my safety and security, you can’t take away my fight.

Signed,
The woman who will ruin you.

2:42pm  |   URL: http://tmblr.co/ZnckLx6B3R6z
(Notes: 6)
  
Filed under: slutwalk letter writing rape surviving acceptance drugs 
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