This is not a secret. This is something I have told more than a dozen people over the past 21 years. But it is something I have kept out of the public conversation, for many reasons…like...
a. it is a private and personal and
b. I believed my advocating for victims of intimate partner violence (IPV) would be more effective if my story was not included. I didn’t want my story to interfere with my work and credibility as an advocate.
Truth be told – when I first started working in the field of domestic violence – I didn’t think my story had anything to do with the work I was doing. I was going to help advocate for victims of a different type…little did I know then, what I grew to know over the tenure of my experience that the issue was power and control all along.
Friday morning, I sent a text to J letting him know I thought the time had come.
We had mentioned this day in passing over the years – a day that I thought about often, in detail, even before we were married, before they were born. Would I tell my children? Did they need to know? How would I tell them? How would I protect them? …Could I protect them from the same thing happening to them?
So, this past Friday night, at Shabbat dinner I started the conversation…but I will come back to that.
First – here is my story as told by me just a few weeks after the assault…I wrote it as part of a book review for a psychology class, turned in April of 1997 (this is a portion of the paper). The book – Intimate Betrayal: Understanding and responding to the trauma of acquaintance rape.
…The fact that I am twenty-one years old makes it obvious I have had many gendered moments in my life. Each and every one of these experiences and relationships created the woman I am today. I always believed I was a strong woman and made my intentions known, but one afternoon changed everything I had once believed about myself. It was one afternoon two weeks ago, the day I was "acquaintance raped." Wow, I really don't like that word, rape. I think I prefer the term sexual assault, no, I don't prefer either, but the connotations that come with each have very different meanings.
“B” and I had been friends for nine years, [we had grown up in the same synagogue together, high school, and been members of USY together] but we had not seen each other in about a year when he [and another friend of ours] dropped in for a visit [here at AU]. He is in the Coast Guard and was stopping by before being shipped out. I was very excited to see him and spend quality time before he would disappear for the next three years, [our other friend had to leave early and “B” was going to join me for Purim services that night. I went to shower and get ready]. I can honestly say I was not prepared for [what happened next].
I said "NO," I did. I said "“B”, please stop, don't do this, I don't want to, I don't like you in this way!" But he didn't listen. I pushed him, I tried to move away, I was afraid that he was going to hurt me more than he was already…To my "NO," he replied, "you don't mean no, you know you want to!" To the idea that I am physically not a little woman who can be thrown around and I can resist force, he was more forceful than I could have ever counterbalanced. Maybe because he had the element of surprise or maybe because he was so muscular, or maybe because he was physically hurting me. To the idea of why did I invite him to my room or why did I leave to take a shower; the only response I have is that he was my friend...a platonic friend, one who I trusted as a brother, not one I thought would betray me.
After it was interrupted [by two of my residents that came to knock on my door] he jumped up and I left to get dressed not saying another word. When I returned he was sitting on my bed watching TV as if nothing was wrong and nothing had happened. He didn't get it, he really didn't. I left for services, as it was [Purim], and told him to leave because I no longer wanted to go out with him that night, I had changed my mind. I didn't report it for two days.
You see I'm one of the educated ones, I'm not the woman who didn't know what it was, or what to call it. I've taken the classes, I've seen the news, and I've even written the papers and given the talks. [I’m an RA and a psychology major]. I've advised women on their options and even encouraged them to press charges, but when the tables were turned, I didn't follow through. What they forget to tell us as educators is that you really don't know how the woman is feeling until you are in her position. You can know all the "right" things to do and choose none of them; it is such a hard decision to make.
How was I supposed to press charges, that would entail people needing to know, telling what happened, and have all those questions asked. You know the ones like: Why was he in your room? Why were you in a robe? Why didn't you do anything more when he started making advances?. How could I press charges when [one of my closest friends who is his best friend said to me, “I believe you, I believe he is capable of this, but if you press charges – I can’t support you.”] Besides, how could I go home again and face "our" circle of friends? Not to mention the fact that he didn't [seem to] realize that he did anything wrong.
All in all, I was a lucky one, I got to pick the police officer I wanted to give my statement to because [as an RA] I knew him and trusted him; I couldn’t have done it any other way. It was so degrading even to have a friend (University Police officer) ask me those questions, imagine a stranger, I know I wouldn’t have done it…[I only did it so he could be barred from campus]
I know the date, not because I remember the date on the English calendar, it is because it happened on the eve of the Jewish holiday Purim and years later I went back and looked it up. I remember I left AU and went to meet my friend Josh at the GW Hillel for services – I don’t remember how I got there…I don’t remember anything about the service, who else was there…I do remember the room, and I remember feeling safe with my friend Josh. I haven’t celebrated Purim since.
Back to this past Friday night… we finished the brachot (prayers) including blessing each one of our children and Jason singing me Eyshet Chayil (Woman of Valor), Kiddush and Motzi over the challah. I started saying something to the effect of, with all that has been in the news, and the power and honesty of Dr. Blasey Ford, and in light of all the work I have done on behalf of victims, Aba and I agree that it is time for me to let you know that I was sexually assaulted in college.
I don’t know what I expected their responses to be…I don’t think I had an expectation – but what did happen I did not expect. Our oldest son said, “did you seriously think we didn’t know that?” I looked at him inquisitively, to which he responded – I assumed from all the work you do. Next came our younger daughter – who jumped out of her chair and said…”did it happen on Purim and that’s why you don’t do Purim? I’ve had this theory for so long!” …our older daughter reprimanded her with a sarcastic jab, “it is not the time” – and then said, “yeah, but we knew.” Our youngest son, yet to become a bar mitzvah was taking it all in.
I let them know that I had done a lot of personal work to get to where I am today, and that Jason had been an amazing support and partner. I did know him when the assault occurred, we didn’t become close friends till later and didn’t start dating till almost a year after that. I told them that it was important to me that they feel comfortable asking questions, and that both Jason and I would be available to answer anything they wanted to know. The first one that was asked is if they knew this person. I was able to answer that question definitively – “no!” you have never met him.
Our kids have handled life’s challenges with humility, humor, sarcasm and grace, just the way we hoped they would. Their handling of this was no different – we are able to talk, shed a tear, smile, joke and support each other with what is a difficult topic of conversation.
What I didn’t tell my children, (but I am sure from all the conversations we have had over the years they assume) that assault, the one I assume he doesn’t remember, has affected every aspect of my life. From choosing when to go home to NY for a visit, how to handle panic attacks, how to manage anxiety, who I trust, how to be intimate, who I choose to be friends with. It is something I live with every day in some way. But again, even 21 years later, I still believe I was one of the lucky ones.
I ended the above-mentioned paper was with the following line –
Recovery is important, and as seen through the book and through studies, "living well is the best revenge."
I don’t know if I believed it to be true then…or even now… what I do know, is I have had the great privilege of living well.
