Sometimes it feels as if no matter how many times we write our stories, no matter how many statistics we show you, you don’t really care.
(Content warning: discussion of sexual assault/rape)
I’m not who I was before I was sexually assaulted. There are parts of myself that I have shed for my own safety and mental health. Being kind, being vulnerable and soft was something I had to learn how to do again, and one thing is absolutely certain: I don’t want anyone else to feel the way I did after being raped.
I have written about assault, especially during Sexual Assault Awareness month, but this year is different. Each time I pour my soul into a piece, I draw out words and put them together with the hope that someone will feel connected or some sense of solidarity.
I write for victims, but I also write for those who don’t know what it’s like, I have written with the hope that those of you who have never felt themselves shredded and stripped of their autonomy will hear us and fight alongside us because we need more people to stand up against rape culture.
We march, we carry signs, we hold hands, we cry, we scream — but who’s listening? Do you care? Do you actually feel empathy, or are you tired of hearing about how I was raped? Are you tired of us advocating for other victims of assault? Do we annoy you? Sometimes it feels as if no matter how many times we write our stories, no matter how many statistics we show you, you don’t really care.
Source/ rest: wearyourvoicemag.com