Dear Attacker,

I don't know your name but I do know how much you've taken from me.  That night you violated my body, it shattered my world.  I've been through a lot but I've never felt fear.  Now I feel fear constantly.  There is a feeling now that my body is not my own, but that every man out there is lurking, looking for a way to violate my security.  I have built a wall that I fear will never come down.  I am getting help now to deal with these feelings so I know that I will overcome them, but I don't know how to truly forgive you.  I understand that you probably have issues that are bigger than the ones I've carried around with me.  I cannot imagine what would prompt you to ignore me when I said no and to keep going with what you wanted.  I can't fathom the violence of what you did.  I am alive, I have a soul.  A strong one, but the moment you violated me, you broke something in my soul that trusted all people and looked for the good in strangers.  This is a trait I've always held dear.  I hope to get it back.  I wonder how many other people you've done this to.  I know that you planned your attack.  I can't wrap my mind around any of this right now.  But just know that you have damaged me and I'm searching for a way to get over it, forgive you and move on.    

I was raped on March 3rd, 2016.  I had been through all kinds of hell, but nothing could prepare me for the aftermath of that night.

I was in Las Vegas, celebrating my best friend’s birthday but she had gotten sick that night.  I put her to bed and planned on going to a concert by myself.  There were people in our high class hotel from all over the world who came to Las Vegas for a huge rugby match.  I met so many beautiful men and Women from Caribbean islands and Africa at the beginning of the concert.  Me and my best friend danced until she literally could not stand up anymore.  She had two shots of tequila and was done.  So I ordered a drink in the lobby bar by myself.  A thin, short black man offered to pay for my drink and I obliged.  I am married but usually don’t turn down a free drink from a friendly face.  By the time I talk to most men about my life, they gain an understanding that they don’t have a chance.  His face was friendly.  He actually looked like my friend Jameel, so we had a drink and talked.  He said that him and his friends were having a party in their hotel room and I should come.  He had connections to the artist who was performing. It sounded great, I wouldn’t be alone and would meet some new people.  

We passed through the glass elevators and chatted warmly.  He opened the door to the room and I could tell that it was inhabited by a large group.  There were cases of beer everywhere, disheveled clothes.  To be honest the room was a pigsty.  We sat at the table next to the double beds and talked more.  I told him about my wife and my kids.  He tried to make a pass at me a couple of times, but I brushed it off.  Yup, I’m super gay dude.  I looked at the door.  He kept texting his friends and said they should be there any moment.  He seemed nervous.  I waited with him and a dark energy surfaced.  He talked about having sex with his cousin and I got freaked out.  I’m pretty accepting of all kinds of people and it felt like something crazy ass Jameel would say, so I let it pass and waited for the party to begin.  I remember that door more than anything for how long I stared at it, willing for it to open and let in new friends.  

From there on out, things get hazy.  How did I end up on the floor, pushed against the wall?  I remember him on top of me.  I remember telling him no.  I was on my period.  I was a lesbian.  NO.  NO.  No…  I pushed him and felt suffocated.  I felt weak.  I was surprised that such a small person could be so heavy.  I couldn’t feel my body.  I don’t know what happened to this day.  I felt clear and strong suddenly and pushed him off of me. I ran upstairs to my room and looked in the mirror.  I remember my make up running with tears down my eyes and cheeks.  I remember people in the hallway asking if I was okay.  I laughed in a panic, yeah fine, just making my way to my room.  I remember the feeling in my chest as I laid down.  I felt my vagina, trying to figure out what happened.  Where were my panties?  My mind spun out of control, trying to figure it out.  I woke up the next morning.  My tampon was still in and I wasn’t in pain.  Nothing happened. Maybe I was overreacting. I felt uneasy though.  What did he do to me?  I had never had anyone force themselves on me.  I had never not been in control of my body.  I woke up and felt fear.  I had been in many dangerous situations in my past, but never felt true fear.  I drank all day to try and calm the panic, but every time I looked around I was scared my eyes would meet his gaze.  I heard someone call out “bitch” at some point and ran to the bathroom to hide.  I could hear the blood swishing in my ears. We had to leave the hotel.  We gambled the night away and I tried to forget.  I was going to make sure that my best friend had a good time. I wouldn’t tell anyone.  What would I say anyway?  I wanted to tell my best friend but I couldn’t.  I didn’t want her to remember her birthday by my assault.  I felt emotionless.  Only fear and panic.

I arrived home and tried to forget.  I vowed to never tell a soul.  Shame and fear washed over me.  I was so happy to see my wife.  I had missed her and we fought after all of this happened.  I just couldn’t think straight.  I kept playing that night over and over in my head.  I remember driving to work and missing my turn two days in a row.  What happened?  Did he rape me?  Get it out of my head.  I wanted relief from the fear and found it in her touch as we laid down.  I was careful not to exchange fluids because I didn’t know what happened.  I was so relieved from her touch but I was still panicked. My mind raced. I couldn't think about anything but that night.  I was short tempered and snapped every time I was awoken from my terrifying daydreams.

Then my vagina started to discharge oddly and my glands in my pelvis hurt.  Had he given me something?  What did he do to me?  I told myself it was a natural infection and bought supplements to clear it up, but it only got worse.  I slipped away from work one afternoon and went to the women’s clinic.  The nurse practitioner asked me why I wanted an exam and the floodgates opened.  I told her everything.  Tears streamed down my cheeks as I told her how afraid I was.  She told me there was support and that everything would be okay.  She told me that this situation was sadly common in her office.  Did I need someone to talk to?  No, I didn’t want to tell a soul.  She told me that if I didn’t get help, things would bubble up at some  point.  I would need help.  

I was so ashamed.  I felt so stupid.  I trusted someone and he violated my body.  Just like my mom always told me, you can’t trust any man.  Just like my wife told me, there are bad people out there.  I never wanted to believe it.  I never wanted to lose my sense of trust in humanity.  But there I was.  I waited on pins and needles for the results to come back.  Two days later, the nurse had called, left a message and wanted me to call her back.  I tested positive for gonorrhea.  More tears.  Lots more tears.  She told me I had to tell my wife.  Chances were low that I transmitted it to her, but we had to be safe.  There were no guidelines for lesbians when it came to these kinds of STDs.  My wife would blame me, I knew it.  She would think I was stupid or think I was a slut.  I was dirty now. That man had not only taken control of my body that night but had passed disease on to me. I had put my wife in danger.   

I mustered the courage to tell her and she handled it calmly.  She was very inquisitive.  What had happened?  Oh, people get raped sometimes.  It happens all the time, no big deal.  She got raped herself once.  I felt strange and at ease.  I couldn’t believe it was going to be okay.  We got treatment.  The next day she asked why I lied, why didn’t I tell her?  I was scared that she would blame me, I tried to explain.  I could sense that she didn't believe me. She thought I had slutted it up in Las Vegas and came back with a story. Why would I lie? She just couldn’t handle it.  She exploded with emotion, which she couldn’t process.  I cried and felt a pain in my soul that I thought might kill me.  I was supposed to trust her and always be honest, but I reacted the way most rape victims do and violated her trust as a consequence. The fear and shame outweighed my need to be honest. I thought I could sweep it under the rug and move on with my life. I told myself in my head that I wasn't going to let it make me weak. I would come out of this stronger, better. But now, all of my fear and panic manifested in her leaving me as I sobbed.

She packed her things and stayed with a friend for a week.  I spiraled down.  I didn’t know how to handle any of it.  I especially didn’t know how to handle it alone, without the person I loved the most.  We went to counseling a couple of times.  When I came back home from Vegas, I wanted to express my fear without telling her about the assault so I lied.  I told her that I was afraid I would get raped but I wound up safe.  I withheld information from her and I hate myself for it.  I put her at risk by seeking out her touch as comfort. It felt right at the time, but now it feels extremely selfish. What was I thinking? My wife was having a hard time forgiving me for the lie.  We talked about how she thought I might have just cheated.  Because I had lied, it opened up a world of false possibilities.  I understood on some level but felt so hurt.  How could she not understand how scared I was? Didn't she understand that my mind was fucked? I couldn't make any good decisions when I was replaying the night of my rape over and over and over in my mind.  My heart races now just thinking about it. Someone violated my body and my mind didn't know how to handle it. I wanted her to hold me and tell me everything was okay.  I felt fear now. Didn't she love me? I had never been afraid but now I was scared every time a man walked by as I was climbing the stairwell alone at work. She told me it would take time to forgive me, so I gave her time.  Six months later, she still wasn’t sleeping with me.  I felt dirty still. I felt ashamed.  I was hurt and just wanted for my marriage to be okay.  I didn’t worry about healing myself.  My marriage was my concern, but just like the nurse said, things bubbled up.  I started smoking weed to calm the rage I felt all of the time.  To wake me from my depression.  I turned inward for comfort. I just wanted her to accept me, to touch me.  To make me feel like I was an okay person.  Then one day she did and it was wonderful.  Not perfect, because she was still afraid of my body but it felt good nonetheless and sent me into a new world of happiness.  She loved me again!  I couldn’t reciprocate completely, I was still healing from the whole thing but we were making progress!  Sweet sweet progress.  I felt happy for the first time since March 3rd.  

Maybe the road to progress was too hard on us, because a week later she left.  She’s been gone for a month.  She still doesn’t trust me because I lied.  The distance that was forged during the subsequent six months was oppressive but irresistible for us both. Now the distance grows and engulfs me sometimes. I fight against it, but it pushes back. I am helpless. Anger and distrust filled the space where we used to hold each other on a daily basis.  I felt alone.  Now I am alone.  I want to fight for everything to be okay. I send out prayers of love and peace for my little family. Sometimes I cry in the car on my way home from work. Sometimes I lose control. It's the best I can do. In all of this, I've intertwined my need to forgive myself with my need for forgiveness. I wish I had a time machine.  I would have never gone to Vegas.  I would have never left my friend and tried to go see the show by myself.  I would have stayed home and maybe everything would be okay.  The least I could have done was comfort my wife through all of this. She was hurting too. But I cannot undo the past.  I still can't wrap my mind around it all. I don't want to address the way I feel about men, maybe being afraid of men is the way I should feel. Maybe I'm really never safe. This was a lesson in how fucked up life is. The bad in people. All I can do now is work on healing.  Work on feeling okay with my body.  Work on feeling in control, feeling like it wasn’t my fault.  I can work on the fear, distrust and most of all forgiving myself and my attacker. Forgive my wife for not believing me, for the devastation of it all.  And move forward.  Maybe things will get better with time.