Our narrow idea of what rape looks like leads to many victims/survivors to deny their own experience and to feel invalidated which then leads to less assaults being reported and more assailants running free. It took me almost 3 years after we had broken up to acknowledge that what he had done was rape. It took me another 6 months to tell anyone. The first time, it happened because of our different ideas of what “sex” means. This does not make it my fault. I said I didn’t want to have sex - we had just met at a party and went back to his place. He said that was fine then shoved some fingers in me. That was sex to me. That was rape. The second time (and third and fourth and however many more times it happened), it was also with his fingers. This time, there was no misunderstanding. Ignorance was no longer an excuse - not that it was an acceptable excuse the previous time. I was brushing my teeth at his house and he started fingering me. I said “stop,” I said “no,” I don’t remember how many times I said those words. I hit his hand away. I fled the room - that was the only way in the moment that it would stop, that he would stop. I had to put doors and walls between us for it to stop. He thought it was funny, harmless. It wasn’t. He did that many more times while we were together - each time I said no, each time he ignored me and my lack of consent. I was 17, he was 10 years older than me. He should have known better. He probably did know better. I have never confronted him. I have never reported it. I probably never will. I still have trouble saying “I was raped” out loud, even to myself, even while writing this. I have no problem saying I was violated, sexually assaulted, abused. I don’t know what it is with the R word, but it is just so hard for me to claim. To anyone else out there like me: I believe you. It wasn’t your fault. It was rape.

Our image of rape is so narrow - a violent stranger that both sexually assaults (with a penis) and batters someone. But as many people now know, it usually isn’t a stranger. And it isn’t always violent or with a penis. My assault was neither with a stranger nor violent. It was with my (now ex) boyfriend. It was with his fingers.

Magpie is right, recover is a complicated word. A phrase I have been saying to myself lately is “what you were, you can’t be anymore” and that may sound depressing on the surface, but to me it’s been liberating. Realizing that the abuse I survived has in a way shaped me and changed me, but now here I am - a different creature from having gone through that, but the survival was mine, the healing was mine, and the future is mine. It took a long time to feel that way about it. I’m in my mid 30’s and just now feeling like I’m getting my shit together and my life is mine. But part of that was letting go of who I used to be, comforting the girl I was while not trying to get her back, and realizing that I get to determine for myself who I am now. We are all constantly breaking and healing and breaking and healing. Our scars that seemed garish at first multiply and fade to silvery lines that create a new pattern. We can all try to cover them up, or we can decide to show our face, to adorn the scars, to make them ours. You are strong and beautiful because you are here. I believe you, it’s not your fault. - Ijeoma

Recover is a complicated word. One can never be left unchanged by an awful trauma, but you do have the choice to address or respond to the trauma as you choose, pursuing the coping and healing approaches that are right for you. I’m still affected by the legacy of abuse, but I’ve built a wonderful life for myself and I know you can too. I’m so very sorry for what happened to you. - Magpie

by Anonymous





I’m currently 16 (nearly 17 yay). About a year ago I was going to go to Japan, or I should’ve gone anyway. At the start of last year everyone was getting excited about going to Japan at the end of the year (it was a school trip) and I was so ecstatic because I had been learning/practicing/WANTING to go to Japan for almost 4 years. My mum and I paid the first deposit and I made a small study book of all the things I might need to say in Japanese whilst I was there and how to cope with things I might see.

I’m autistic. I knew that if I went to Japan that it would take me way out of my comfort zone and so I spent hours and hours every day trying to prepare myself for that, however I had a sense of comfort knowing that teachers would be there to guide the rest of the students and I if we had any troubles.

Two weeks after the first deposit and my mum got an email from the head of department saying that she should re-think about letting me go on this trip. My mum was confused and made that known in the reply. We then got another email with more specific details: they didn’t want me to go because of my disorder. I was devastated, however I still wanted to give myself a chance and so I defended myself along with my mum. All that they would reply with is that “The child is more likely to cause hindrances and have difficulties with culture shock” and spouted all this stupid nonsense about what could possibly happen. All the things that they stated could happen to me, could happen to any of the other kids (especially the two who never pay attention in class, only know three basic sentences and were still allowed to go on the trip).

In the end I was given a choice; I either give up and don’t go or I get up in front of the entire school and give a speech in Japanese. This broke me.

I was being forced to face either missing the one chance to go to the country that I love or to do the one thing that scares me more than anything. My anxiety, while it had improved, was still something terrible that I had to face everyday. I couldn’t do it, that broke me even more.

All those years I had spent learning, trying and improving just to fit into today’s social normalities, all that effort I had put in just to try to be the tiniest bit ‘normal’ and all that effort I put into learning Japanese. It was all for nothing.

I fell into a spiral of depression after that, I stopped trying with school work. It suddenly didn’t make sense anymore, I didn’t want to even try to prove them wrong. I felt so betrayed by the few people who are supposed to guide and protect you, they’re your fucking guardians for gods sake. This went on for about six months.



Now, in less than a month I’m going to Japan with my mum because the school made a mistake in saying that if I had been in Japan before going on the Japanese trip, they would of let me go. So now I’m going the year before the next Japanese trip, to prove the suckers wrong.

However I’m still scared, I’m still not very good at Japanese and I don’t want to be alone(my mum doesn’t know any Japanese so I have to be the tour guide basically). My anxiety has risen. Over the past few weeks. I’ve become so stressed that I’m gaining weight, I no longer excel at all my subjects, I’ve had so many mood swings and I’ve even started crying myself to sleep again.

But I’m going to get through it. I’m not going to let them win AGAIN. I’m going to prove to them that even though I’m already broken that I can still put myself back together again. I can do this, I hope.







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