A reader opens up:

Did I enjoy it? No. Did I put myself in a dangerous position? Yes. Is this a hard case in which to draw a bright line about consent? Probably. But the fact is I told him no and he didn’t stop. Isn’t that the definition of rape?

At our second meeting, we went deeper into the woods to find a more secluded spot. We engaged in the same activity (kissing, touching, oral sex) but then he demanded more. I declined his offer – clearly I would say – but his demeanor changed and he got more physical. He was bigger than me, and heavier by at least twenty pounds. Despite my protests, I found myself pinned up against a tree while he violated me and threatened further violence (he hissed his threats into my ear). Afterwards, he was grudgingly apologetic but at the same time commented on how “hot” it had been and that I had clearly enjoyed it. I just remember saying, flatly, “You raped me.” I pulled my clothes on and got out of there. I saw him again about a week later but he again denied that he had crossed the line, only saying that we had both enjoyed it. I never saw him again.

Gay rape is more common than I think is generally acknowledged, and not just in prison settings. I can only offer my own anecdotal evidence but I would imagine a lot of gay men have similar stories. When I was in my thirties, I frequented a local, suburban “cruising” spot (woods adjacent to a park). I met a guy there and struck up a conversation. He was a few years younger than I was. We engaged in some light sexual activity and agreed to meet again a few days later. He seemed nice, funny, open about being gay.

Another also shares a difficult story:

I have been reading your work for years, yet until today I have never felt compelled to write or add my own voice to a discussion. The post on gay rape triggered an avalanche in me and I kind of broke down for a bit. Your reader asked if gay rape is a thing, and I will confirm that it is because it happened to me about 18 years ago.

Without going into too many details, I was violated during my college years as I was trying to deal with my conflicted sexuality. In the middle of coming to terms with my same-sex attraction and a Catholic upbringing that taught that such feelings are sinful and should be suppressed, someone took advantage. It was awful enough that I went back into the closet for eight more years, and it wasn’t until I started going back to ManRay (for the goth nights, which I miss so so dearly) that I started to explore again. Even now I am deeply wary of men who express attraction to me because of the PTSD of the event.

So the usual question I get when I share this with those closest to me is, “Why didn’t you report it?” From the outside it seems the logical and right thing to do. The problem is, you can’t report a crime if you – and everyone else – doesn’t believe the crime actually exists.

Ever hear someone jokingly say, “You can’t rape the willing”? I have, from almost every straight friend I have ever had. There is a general societal perception that men CANNOT be raped because men always want sex and real men can control their sexual encounters. A man who claims to have been raped is not really a man; either he’s lying to cover something up, or he deserved it (a common view in the more homophobic parts of the country) or he’s a pussy who can’t fight off another man and thus less of a person. Male-on-male sexual assault goes unreported because of this – men don’t get raped, men just have bad sex and move on. Add on top of this the usual negative views of homosexuality, and someone who has been attacked in such a way will find any excuse to deny it ever happened.

And in my case, that’s how I dealt with it. My brain interpreted the event as “bad sex”. At the time, with virtually nothing else to compare it to, I thought the violent act WAS gay sex, and obviously I just didn’t like it, so obviously I wasn’t gay. At that point I could not admit it happened to anyone, as that would both expose my “sin” and it would call into question every aspect of my masculine identity, I just suppressed it as an experiment gone awry and tried to move on, despite the obvious damage it did. It wasn’t until I came back out, nearly a decade later, and admitted my attractions that I could look back on that event for what it really was.

I sincerely hope the topic of same-sex rape gets a little bit of exposure here now that it has been brought up. While any kind of sexual assault is awful no matter what genders are involved, and any discussion on how to prevent or respond to it is worth having, gay rape gets virtually no coverage and has been swept under the proverbial rug as something that simply never happens. I wish that were true; my life may be very different right now.