First, I want to say sorry. Sorry for not telling the people who care about me about this before posting it online. Sorry for not being as much of a fighter as I thought I would be. Sorry for only talking about this now.
Last year I was sexually assaulted. Only I don't really feel comfortable calling it that. It wasn't violent. It ended quickly. I didn't fight back. It wasn't that bad.
Just two months ago I lied to my parents. In a debate about honor code violations and sexual assault at BYU, I told them that I had broken honor code rules, but was never assaulted at those times. But I had been. As soon as the words came out of my mouth I knew I was lying. Because it happened. I have denied it, I have pushed it down. I have told myself that I probably could have stopped it, so it was my fault that I didn't. I have carried this with me, mostly alone.
But before I tell you that story I want to tell you a couple different ones.
High School
Throughout high school, I was consistently sexually harassed by one of my peers. I blew it off because I thought he was cute and knew that he talked that way about a lot of other girls in our class. He made comments about my body, about having sex with me. When sitting near him in class, I knew these comments were likely, but I convinced myself it wasn't a big deal. I even recall joking to a friend that I could "probably get him in trouble for sexual harassment if I reported it," but I didn't want to be that girl. He was smart and popular. But what was the point of doing anything about it? It wasn't that bad.
College (Sort of)
Right after I graduated while I was still living in my college town, I took a trip with roommates to Las Vegas. It was a birthday trip and we had gotten into a swanky club as VIP (thanks to a wonderful stranger, but that's another story). Now while in a club, it is pretty common to make contact with other people, often just dancing and having a good time. It is also fairly common to be touched when you do not want it. And I still remember how it felt to try and pull another woman's hand away as she tried to reach up my skirt while she whispered in my ear "we're both girls, so it's okay." It wasn't okay, but it wasn't that bad.
I share these mostly because I need to get them off my chest. My experiences are definitely not limited to these things, but these specific ones stick out as the most consequential in my life. I consider myself lucky. I haven't had to deal with half of the garbage many of my friends have. My experiences are limited and I'm grateful.
And that brings me to my final story.
Like many young single Mormons, last summer I was feeling the pressure to date as well as the natural human desire for affection. I downloaded a popular Mormon dating app, Mutual, and I started swiping. I matched with this one boy who was cute, tall, and a returned missionary. He reached out and while we talked for a bit, I ultimately blew him off. But then a few weeks later, he messaged me again and asked me out. I agreed and we spent some time together up Provo Canyon. I had a good time and I thought he was attractive, so I reached out to him again. This time we ended up making out at my apartment. After a while, he started touching me in a way I did not feel comfortable with. My thoughts were racing. "What is he doing? How do I tell him I don't like this? What will he do if I tell him to stop? What if he gets upset?" Fortunately in the time it took me to mentally ask myself these questions, he had stopped. He eventually left and we never spoke again.
The next morning I remember telling one of my best friends what happened. I didn't give her all the details, but I did tell her I felt guilty. We blew it off as "Mormon girl shame." But by that night, I knew it wasn't just that. Something had happened to me that I did not want and did not consent to.
But it didn't last that long. It wasn't that bad.
I have had every doubt and every victim-blaming thought pass through my head. I still don't really feel like I am a victim or survivor. I still rationalize that what happened to me isn't worth speaking about and doesn't qualify for any definition. I keep coming back to the same thought "it wasn't that bad."
But what if it was? What do I do then? The answer is I don't really know.
As I watched the Senate Judiciary Committee question both Christine Blasey Ford and Brett Kavanaugh, I was brought back to my own experiences. Is what happened to me noteworthy? Am I overreacting? Was it my fault? If a woman can come forward with credible allegations of events much more serious than my own, where does that leave me? Would I be believed? Would I be mocked?
I find myself asking questions that shouldn't have to be asked at all. And I guess that's my answer.
None of these things should have happened to me. I shouldn't have to be grateful that at least it wasn't worse.
Watching women be questioned and doubted and retraumatized is painful. I have so much admiration and appreciation for what Dr. Ford has done. She is speaking up for herself, her country, and any other individual who has experienced something like this. I believe her. I stand with her. I am terrified that we are willing to allow sexual abusers to attain lofty positions of power in our government. Yet, I am empowered to share my own story. I share it for everyone who has gone through similar things. I share it for those who still question if their experience was bad enough to count. I share it so I no longer have to carry this burden alone.
If you are having a hard time with the current news, anything I shared in this post, or anything in your experience, please reach out. RAINN's hotline operates 24/7 at https://hotline.rainn.org/online/ or you can call 1-800-656-HOPE(4673).
