It’s not all men, but it is every woman I know
EDITOR’S NOTE: WARNING – Sexual Assaults descriptions. Writing this was cathartic for Christy, but sharing it with the Pioneer audience was hard, but we can do hard things. And if hearing Christy’s story helps just one person to share their story, if it helps another victim to realize that it wasn’t their fault – we have to stand up for the victims. WE HAVE TO TALK ABOUT IT! Scream about it – join Christy Kay for a Sacred Scream Ceremony October 10th at 10am. We have to fight for changes in our justice system to truly hold the rapists accountable. AND – give grace and empathy to survivors. We are all Jane Doe. If you or someone you know has experienced a sexual assault, reach out to Tides of Change – www.tidesofchangenw.org
By Christy Kay
I was 7, in the family home, by a friend of my parents. He told me “You like this, don’t you, you naughty girl.”, while I was frozen in fear. When I broke free, and found a parent, who told me I don’t know anything. And that I needed to stop talking. When I was 17 I saw that he had been arrested for sexually abusing another young girl. I felt extreme guilt about not pursuing justice. I had let him continue his dirty deeds. But, I was a child, That was not mine to hold.
I spent decades trying to feel safe again, I don’t feel like I ever found that feeling.
I was 18, at a party with friends. He led me into the back room, to “help” him get snacks. He pushed me from behind, and I fell to the ground. He held me there by my wrists, as he laid upon me, and forced himself into me. When he was done, he smiled and said, “I wanted to do that since I met you.” I crawled out of there, in obvious distress, and went to find my best friend, who was male. He told me to be quiet. He didn’t believe me. I went back to him the next day, and showed him the bruises on my wrists, arms, and body- my friend told me that his friendship with that rapist meant too much to him, he didn’t want to make waves. He told me to go home and never bring it up again. I lost my best friend.
I was 21, at a party in college. I was force fed shots of tequila until I passed out. I woke up to three men, assaulting me. I pretended to be unconscious, until they were done. I never spoke of it. I had already learned my lesson from the last few times I was assaulted. Just be quiet, no one wants to hear or believe it.
I was 22, in college at the local hangout, listening to live music and dancing. I took a break to sit at the bar and get a drink, when a man sat down next to me, and pushed his hands down my skirt. I pushed him away. He called me a slut, and a bitch. He slapped my ass so hard that it later bruised, as I walked away. My boyfriend saw it all. He did nothing. But, I married him anyway. I survived that marriage, but just barely.
There are more stories in this book, of survival. I relive them every time a news story breaks where a woman comes forward to share the atrocities, the SA by men, who never suffer the consequences of their actions. The rage burns deeply within me, with no outlet, no chance of justice. This is just how it is….this is the culture we live in, and perpetuate, and accept. It is always the victim’s fault. The world repeatedly asks that women and children protect themselves, instead of asking men to be responsible.
He pursued me to “befriend” me when I was 49, after a year of incredible loss, a year of deep vulnerability. He told me he had been watching me, for a while. He promised to protect and care for me. He told me he loved me and showed it by love-bombing me. Just 5 months later he told me he wanted to marry me. And when I told him I wasn’t in the right space to date or be in a relationship, he got angry, so enraged that I rejected his advances. He figured he had put “the time in”, he deserved a reward. In his anger, he started stalking me and harassing me, creating incidents that incited deep fear of what he might do to me, and made it unsafe to leave my house. I filed a restraining order with 5 pages and 26 instances of documentation, and the judge granted it immediately. He sued to repeal, and brought a high price lawyer, and counter sued me for liable. I was forced to relive the abusive encounters several times in court, causing deeper trauma. He told the court this was only happening because I wanted it, I wanted this. In the end, the judge pushed me to hire a lawyer, he said I had brought a knife to a gun fight. In the end, after months of fighting, I had no financial or emotional resources left, and so the complaint ended. Three years later, he still shows up wherever I am, any day or time I leave my house. I am in constant flight/flight trauma response. I do not feel safe in my community.
I am Jane Doe.
I am a survivor.
I carry a whistle, I carry mace, I carry baseball bats.
I am restricted in where I can go, when I can go, and what I can do.
But I will not be shamed, blamed, or made to feel less than.
I am enraged at the purposeful lack of justice and accountability.
I see you. I believe you. I am you.
I am Jane Doe.
