One out of three women will be sexual assaulted during her lifetime. I once heard this statistic at a Res. life program. The statistic was extremely chilling, considering I lived in a triple at the time. It essentially said one of us would be sexually assaulted. As my roommates and I discussed it, we were able to come up with many reasons why sexual assault couldn't happen to any of us; we were aware, we would never let ourselves get into an unsafe situation, we wouldn't walk alone at night, those things didn1t happen here in New Hampshire, and on and on . . . We were wrong. It did happen to one of us: It happened to me.
He wasn't a stranger. I knew him for almost a year. We had met the previous fall in the hallway of a classroom building. We slowly became friends as we waited in the hall for the previous class to filter out of the room where our class met.
We went to the coffee shop several times last year, sat and talked. Our courses of study are similar so we had both taken some of the same classes and had the same professors. I enjoyed being able to talk to someone who knew about those professors and classes since my friends have vastly different majors than mine. We even exchanged e-mail several times.
I had not seen him this fall until one evening when I was walking across campus to a meeting. I had only a few minutes to talk so we agreed to meet later at the Student Center. The Student Center closed soon after we got there. He suggested that we go back and hang out in the lounge of his residence hall.
We sat in the lounge, watching TV for about 20 minutes before he suggested that we go to his room. He said he wanted to show me something on his computer. I wasn't sure that I wanted to go; it was getting late and I needed to get home because I had an early class the next morning. He said that it would only take a minute, so I agreed.
Things seemed normal at first. He sat at the computer and I stood behind him. He started to open an application. I looked around the room. He stood up, pushed the chair back into me and grabbed my shoulders and threw me onto a bed.
He hit me. He called me names. Then he sexually assaulted me. After, he threatened me: "Tell anyone and you will die." He knew where I worked on campus and the activities I was involved with. He even knew my classes. He did not know where I lived but he said he would find out. He would hurt me even more next time; next time I would not be able to walk away, I would end up in a box.
Did I try to get away? Yes, at first, but he was too strong. My arms were pinned and he hit me, several times. Did I yell? No, I was scared and confused and could not believe what was happening was really happening. I told him to stop, to leave me alone, but he hit me and I stopped saying anything.
Was he a fraternity brother? No. Was he some "freaky-looking" guy with purple hair and a nose ring? No. Was it an old man with no teeth? No. He could have been the boy next door. Do not feel safe with someone just because of a group/stereotype to which they do or do not belong.
My morning class I had been concerned about? I never returned to it. I never returned to any of my classes, that semester. I was scared I would see him. I still fear seeing him on campus.
He stole many things from me that night: my trust in others, my sense of safety, my pride, my dignity, my self esteem and other things that are difficult to put into words.
I will never see the world the same way again and I am not sure I will ever feel completely safe. I am told time will make things better, although never the same as they had been. I gained a new understanding of the world, one I wish I never had the chance to see.
Sexual assault happens. It can happen to you.
* The incident described happened to me in a residence hall on the XXXXX State College campus during the fall 1995 semester. This was written in the Spring of 1996.
copyright 1996, 1997, 1998 Mollykat (mollykat@ns.asarian.org)
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