The media has become a toxic tornado of lies mixed with truths. With the internet, anything and everything a person has ever typed or posted can come under the microscope of scrutiny. We have the PRISM surveillance state program (shoutout to Edward Snowden and The Guardian 4 educating the public) which allows government unilateral access to our most personal and private data; essentially a joke 10 years ago can be used to justify stalking a victim in order to discredit them.

I joined Peace Corps in order to serve my country in a way that I felt was morally and globally beneficial. It was a strange path which I chose after discovering on the California Department of Education website that you can get a teaching license after completing an Education tour in Peace Corps. I expected it to be hard; emotionally, physically, and spiritually challenging. What I didn’t expect was the level of sexism and homophobia which went unchecked and sold to us volunteers as “the culture”.

The sexist attitude was displayed before I even officially swore in. The leaders in the program decided to “review” each and every volunteer even though most had never even sat with us for a meal. The trainers usually isolated themselves at their own table, speaking a language which we had all just started learning - setting the stage from the beginning for the disconnect between volunteers and staff. The males whom slept in the back, read books, or were on computers during sessions received perfect marks (”keep up the good work”) while a handful of females in the program were held to a “higher standard”. I felt sick as I watched my fellow female volunteers play into the blame game and write letters expressing their desire to “improve their attitude towards trainings” .

They neglected to remember that we weren’t Tanzanian, that as employees of the federal government of the United States we had right’s of protection in the work place. The right to not feel discriminated against based on our sexual orientation, color, or gender is not something to neglect.

From the head language teacher using the term “faggot” in the local language to the dude in charge of homestay families whom was virtually absent to ensure volunteer’s living situation were up to code - the people in charge were not interested in changing their behavior to fit their employer’s legal obligations of inclusivity but instead had a laser beam focus set to ensure we conformed to the “Tanzanian” culture.

I was so relieved when my service started and I no longer had to sit through mind numbing bureaucratic “information” sessions. I studied the language, got along with my homestay family, and worked tirelessly to accept the culture of my new, temporary, home. The school I was assigned too had an interesting history. A string of solid volunteers who had completed their service, but most recently there had been a year where 2 volunteers had only stayed for a short period of time.

The school and community were confused to say the least. When I showed up it was an interesting mixture of people whom were excited that I was there and those in the village who were use to the random white teacher working at the secondary school (71 % of Peace Corps Volunteers are white). The first weekend at my site, there was a riot. I remember sitting in my room on the floor with mama dawg away from the windows with the front and bedroom door locked as I listened to the destruction outside. I thought about calling the safety and security officer, but how would he have been able to help me in this situation? I texted my Peace Corps friend group on WhatsApp so they knew what was happening, but I was essentially alone.

The next day when I called Joel, his first response was that he was going to be on his way the next day. Although this was comforting, when it was clear my safety wasn’t in any danger I fell off his radar and I just played the waiting game. When Peace Corps reached out to me a month later, I almost laughed out loud when they informed me that they hadn’t even contacted the head of my school to help me figure out what the riots were about (surprise - they never did). It took me a year and a half of personally investigating until one of my student friends explained to me the whole truth. The head of school and teachers all sold me each their own, twisted story which had various degrees of truth. It was frustrating and I was alone.

So it can’t be a real surprise to anyone that given my history with Peace Corps, I wasn’t really interested in their “help”. I witnessed the inefficiencies of the international aid industrial complex at multiple levels and it left me with a bad taste in my mouth. Our country is essentially responsible for funding corrupt governments and their actions are toxic elements in the stagnation of African economies. We know this to be true (Read Dead Aid by Dambisa Moyo - she’s a smart lady).

I was sexual assaulted by a fellow Peace Corps Volunteer. He was my friend, he was my friend’s friend, and he was even dating a fellow volunteer at the time. I wanted to pretend like it didn’t happen, but I couldn’t forget about it as I was filling out my “anonymous” safety and security form in the same house where it had occurred. I left Tanzania on cloud 9 with plans to return in order to see all of the people whom I loved and had left behind. I had put the incident in the dark corners of my mind, not realizing that the 1 volunteer whom I had told would accidentally lose control of the information I gave him right before I left. I was naïve.

I came home, broke up with my 1st real boyfriend, and was just grateful to be alive after experiencing multiple brushes with death while traveling. I relished in living back in the developing world (cold water to drink, hot water for endless showers, and cars are pretty dope). Then things started to get weird.

The scariest thing for a sexual assault survivor is to not be believed. I don’t easily trust people and I knew the truth would hurt those whom love me the most, I was protecting them. So when my Dad essentially victim blamed me after the weirdest week in my life- the message was sent clear and crystal what the general hypothesis was. But they were so wrong. I have seen time and time again that our legal system is not designed to handle these “he said, she said” cases very effectively or efficiently (Examples: Brock Turner, Ke$ha, and “President” Trump). I didn’t want to do this but I have to protect my name and any future survivors; this system is fucked up.

Luckily I’m not scared anymore, like I was at first. I know this path ahead of me is full of unknowns and pain, but I can take it. As long as I have my family and friends behind me, I will handle the judgement and victim blaming that is rampant in our culture. Now I’m just sitting here, hoping the government steps up to the plate and does it’s job in protecting its citizens from sexual predators which flourish in the shame culture which breeds them. Should be interesting…

When you make assumptions, you look like an ass.

I hope your somewhere praying…

Because the truth will set you free

Just know that I’ll always love you