April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month, and I’m here to share two stories, mine and a dear friend’s. Both valid. Both not our fault.
Sexual assault is defined as “illegal sexual contact that usually involves force upon a person without consent or is inflicted upon a person who is incapable of giving consent (as because of age or physical or mental incapacity) or who places the assailant (such as a doctor) in a position of trust or authority,” according to Merriam-Webster.com.
As women grow up, we are taught to not wear “provocative” clothes and to act as “ladies.” When I say, “we are taught to,” it is not specific to parents, or to schools. I am talking about our society in general.
My story of sexual assault is probably not that different from others, and depending on your personal view, you might even consider it as “harassment” instead of assault. I’ll leave that up to you to decide.
Like many other teenagers, my friends and I would attend parties and, occasionally, nightclubs. There would always be a moment when I didn’t feel safe. When there was a stranger too close to me, I had to ask one of my male friends to be near me, to “protect me.” I would think of ways to blame myself: “Maybe, I shouldn’t have worn …”
Strangers get too close, they touch, they grab and they make unwanted comments about appearance. When this happened, I would walk away, take a moment and think, “It’s just men being men.”
However, I would like to clarify one thing. By going out, I was not asking for anything. This has also happened at parades, carnivals, school events and even in the security of our own homes, as in the case of my friend.
For the sake of this story, and to respect her privacy, I will call my friend Zutana (the Spanish version of Jane Doe).
We met when she was 15 and I was 16 years old, and quickly became good friends. After a couple of weeks of being friends, she decided to confide in me. I remember the tears in her eyes as she told me her story.
Zutana was 13 years old. It was Christmas Day, and her parents were not in town. To celebrate the holiday, other members of her family had gathered at her house. Her brother-in-law said he was going to his house to pick up some things. We will call him “Fulano.”
Zutana didn’t think much of it and decided she would go with him. After all, it was her brother-in-law. She did not think she was in danger. They arrived at the house, and she went to go watch TV in one of the bedrooms to wait for Fulano to get what he needed.
As she was watching TV, she began to fall asleep. During this time was when Fulano went into the bedroom and began to sexually assault her. The TV then made a loud noise and that is when she “woke up,” and he moved away from her. She told me with tears running down her face that if the TV had not been on, she doesn’t know how far he would have gotten.
It took her a couple of months to gather the courage to tell her mother. Two years later, the mother decided it was time to tell Fulano’s wife. When she heard what her husband had done, she did not believe it. The family decided not to press charges because Fulano is “family.”
Zutana says that on that day she lost the strength to speak up, her innocence and her dignity. She also believes that she lost the sister who raised her. She lost the sister who decided to believe a pedophile rather than her own sister.
It was no stranger, it was her sister’s husband. She was not asking for anything.
Sexual assault does not only happen to women. It happens to children, men, members of the LGBTQ+ community, the disabled and mentally ill, etc.
It can happen to anyone, when it should be happening to no one.
It is not your fault.
