A Letter to my Rapist

Every 98 seconds, an American is sexually assaulted. Every 8 minutes, one of those Americans is a child. According to rainn.org, over 320,000 members of the general public were victimized last year alone. 9 of every 10 rape victims are women and 1 out of every 6 women has been the victim of an attempted or completed rape. As you can see, sexual assault is a very serious problem that has and continues to plague the United States every single day. 

Here are some resources to use if you or anybody you know need to reach out to somebody but are not yet comfortable going out to somebody you know. There are both national support groups as well as local. Wisconsin Coalition Against Sexual Assault's (WCASA) website includes multiple resources within Wisconsin alone.

The US recognizes April as Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, so in honor of SAAPM, I wanted to share my story.

As many of you may already know, I was recently the victim of sexual assault. It was a very hard experience for me, as I felt that it was my fault. I didn't understand what happened to me, nor that I was even sexually assaulted until one of my dear friends and I had a long discussion about what happened. While my story is not nearly as tragic as many others, it is still incredibly relevant as my story is so similar to thousands of others.

In December, I finally told my father, which I believe truly was the final step of me accepting what happened and deciding to move past it. That evening, I sat down at my kitchen table and wrote a letter to the man that changed my life. Since writing it, I have grown so much. I have completely changed how I thought about the situation and the man who did this. I now understand that yes, I am a victim, but I don't need to feel like one. I don't need to live in fear. I have so many wonderful people around me who continue to support me; I couldn't ask for anything more than that. So, without further ado, I'd like to share that letter with you.

Thank you guys for reading and supporting me.

Until next time,
Katie

-

Dear Ben,

I don’t know what you look like, or what your favorite color is, or what you’re going to school for. I only know that you have brown hair and your name is Ben. I know you like Star Wars because you have a Star Wars poster on your bedroom wall. I don’t know why I remember that.

I also know that you like preying on intoxicated women. I don’t know if you do it often, or if you had ever done it before me, but I know that you did it. And you enjoyed it. Why wouldn’t you enjoy it though? You were getting laid, after all. That’s all that mattered.

I used to enjoy sex, before you came along. I thought that men were beautiful with good intentions. Even after you, I still thought so for a little while. Until you managed to ruin more things than just my confidence or my trust or my sanity. Just to name a few. I used to dream of having a person who I cared about and loved and they felt the same, but you ruined that. Now, I’m terrified. I’m terrified of talking to new people, of getting close to men, of commitment, of going out. I’m just terrified.

I didn’t even realize what you did until later, honestly. I just thought that I made a drunken mistake. I thought that I made a shitty choice. That wasn’t the case. I just didn’t remember the fact that I said no. Multiple times. Or that you were completely sober and I definitely was not. I always went with the rule that if I wouldn’t do something while sober, I wouldn’t do it while drunk. I never did anything drunk that I wouldn’t do sober. I know for a fact that I would never have sex with a stranger. I already had trust issues before I met you.

I remember sitting at my desk in my dorm room staring at my computer when I finally realized what happened. I read countless articles and forums of women who went through the same thing I did. I didn’t want to admit that you raped me. I thought I was being dramatic.

The thing is, I wasn’t. I’m not. The thing is, I’m broken. I’m working on becoming whole again, but you destroyed me. I feel dirty. I feel like a chunk of me is missing. I can’t bring myself to go out on the weekends because of you. I get short of breath and my heart starts racing when I think of you. When my family members bring it up, I cry. I can’t help it. I try staying composed, and sometimes it really works. But only sometimes.

You ruined relationships I already had. You ruined any chance at some relationships I could have in the future. No matter how great someone treats me, I’m terrified that they have ill intentions. Because of you.

I wish I could say that I hate you, that I want you dead, that I want you to pay for what you did. I mean, part of me really, truly does. Another part of me, however, knows that despite the fact that you’re disgusting—that you’re a piece of shit for doing what you did—that you taught me something. You taught me not to trust people I’ve never met. You taught me to not drink heavily when I go out. You taught me to stay with my group no matter what. You taught me things that I already knew, but apparently didn’t understand. I do hate you, but I've learned from this. It sucks that I had to learn this way, but at least I learned. And I can serve as an example for others. For those who took their knowledge for granted and didn’t listen to the basic rules they were taught before they left for college. For those who thought it could never happen to them, because I was the same way. I never dreamed that this would happen to me.

I think the worst part of all of this is that some people still don't get it. They tell me that because I was flirting with you or because I was kissing you that I wanted it. People have told me that I wasn't really raped and that I am overreacting, but I know that I'm not. I know that you had intentions to take advantage of me. You wouldn't have asked me again after I said no the first time. You wouldn't have asked me at all.

I’m tired. I’m tired of thinking about you, so I’m going to stop. I’m going to try my very hardest to forget about you. I know that I won’t ever forget what happened, but I am going to move on with my life. I’m tired of spending every single day dwelling on you and what you did to me. How you affected me. This is my life, and I am taking it back.

I want to know what went through your mind that night, what made you think that me flirting with you automatically meant that I wanted to have sex with you. I didn’t. I guess you didn’t understand that. I hope you know that what you did was wrong. I hope you know that you broke me and I don’t break easily. I’ve been through hell and back, and yet you managed to tear me down. Tear down everything that I’ve spent so long building up.

But I’m not going to allow you to hold me back. Not anymore. You’ve done enough, and at this point… I’m done.

I want to say a big fuck you to you, Ben. And with that, I’m leaving you in the past. You are not allowed to continue hurting me. I am so much stronger and better than you will ever be. I know that, and that is enough for me.

I hope you get what you deserve, Ben. I know you will one day.

-Katie