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I was a college student working a part-time receptionist job and we went out to happy hour with a group of colleagues. After a few drinks, a smaller group of us went to one colleague's apartment to hang out. You kept mixing drinks and begged me to try them - just a sip, just to taste. I started to feel a little dizzy, and you told me I could crash upstairs for a bit. I woke up in the middle of the night to you removing my clothes and touching me, but I wasn't lucid enough to do anything. I asked you the next day why you did what you did. I was passed out. You told me that it takes two.

When I was 18 I was raped and physically assaulted by a friend of mine at the time. He was 3 years older than me and it was his 21st birthday. It took me a year to accept what happened, and 4 years to get help through counseling. I used to feel a lot of guilt for not getting help sooner and the way my trauma affected other people in my life/people I was in relationships with. I also hated and still sometimes hate the way it affects me 6 years later, but I’m learning that things don’t always go away on their own and it’s okay to reach out for help, no matter what stage you’re in or how long has passed. You will find people who love and believe you, and you’re more than worthy of that. They say skin completely regenerates every 7 years, so by this time next year I’ll have a body you’ve never touched, and that’s comforting.

I didn’t realize that what happened to me was sexual assault until a few years after it happened. I had always felt weird about it, something was off. Until I was in a Facebook group with a bunch of girls, sharing stories about how we lost our virginity or something, and one of them privately messaged me telling me she was a survivor as well... at first I was kind of confused, it still didn’t register, then after talking it out with her, it hit me... I was raped. It was right before I turned 21. I didn’t drink, but was at a party with several friends who were all drinking. It was after a concert, he was in the band. I had known him for a few years, had always had a crush on him. He’s about 4 or 5 years older than me. He was always so nice and everybody loved him. The party was dying down and everyone left except the people staying there(it was about an hour away from where we lived). We started making out, I was into it of course. But I was a virgin, so when he started to try going further, I told him. He backed off a little, then started again. I thought, I’m 21, I trust him, I like him, maybe I might as well finally do it. So I let him. I got nervous and scared though and asked him to stop. I tried to gently push him back a little. He wouldn’t. He kept saying “just the tip, I’ll just put the tip in.” I still tried to push him back but he wouldn’t stop. So I gave in. Then he kept wanting to go further, longer. I started pushing back again, trying to back myself away. “Just a little more, just a little longer, it’s okay it’s okay.” I don’t remember what I did or what happened after. I felt so weird. I didn’t fully understand what happened. I told my two best friends about it, not all of the details or anything, but they knew I slept in the same room as them so I was just like yeah so I finally lost my virginity, and they were excited for me. Again, we all loved him. I never would have imagined he’d hurt me. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. Back then I thought it was only considered rape if it was a stranger attacking you in a dark alley or something. Not someone you’ve known, you trusted, you liked... but he did. He literally took my virginity from me.

I was only 6 years old when I was sexually assaulted. The first time I talked about it with anyone and said it out loud was this year. I'm now 22... that means it's been 16 years later. But I am so thankful to have the support system I do have - the support system who has been strong enough to give me the courage to finally speak up for myself ❤️

I was thirteen. He was my boyfriend. I never thought of it as a form of sexual assault because most of it was online, I blamed myself because I felt as though in the end I was the person in control and no one else could have been blamed. He would force me to touch myself, I was thirteen; I was not ready. It was ongoing for two years. It continuously got worse. I never understood how to deal with it. He had convinced me that he was the only person who cared about me, no one else would want me or even love me. It was a traumatic experience.

I was silenced for so long, now my voice rings free. I’m still filled with agony and it’s hard to bear, but there is hope and I know each day I am getting better. I was silenced by so many who wanted to keep me and my story down. I was sexually assaulted by a member of a fraternity and then the whole fraternity has worked endlessly to help cover up my assault. I was too scared to even come forward as they threatened me and started rumors and lies to harass me. I will not be silent anymore. I am standing strong and resilient. They did not break me, I will rise from this terrible event. I am leaving behind the shell of me who never would have spoken up and sat in agony longer everyday for someone who now stands tall and proud. I’ve used my voice and my experiences to advocate for others who have been hurt like me. I am ready to use my voice for good and start a revolution.

Noone has the right to invade your personal space. Rape and Sexual Assault is wrong. Speak up. Report your incident. Get Mental Healthcare. Know that YOU matter and you are not alone. Help is available. Do not keep silent any more. Tell someone. Ask for help and accept it. You are loveable and capable.

Back on April 6th 2019 (yesterday was 2 years) i was dog/house sitting for a family member of mine when on of their family friend came over. He kept having me try a bunch of different alcoholic drinks until eventually I was drunk. Without going into too much detail he took advantage of me. The next morning I woke up feeling so numb and stuck. I eventually told my mom later that night when I was picked up and they kept trying to contact the guy. My mom hadn’t heard back until the next day when she told me he took his life. The wave of guilt and sadness that hit me in that moment felt so unbearable. For the next few weeks after I remember not leaving my bed unless it was to use the bathroom. Then (thankfully) my mom was able to get me put in therapy. Where I was put with the most amazing therapist. After a few months of one on one I was put into group therapy as well. Where i got to meet the most incredible and strong women. Therapy had taught me so much and helped me so much. It taught me (and this goes for everyone who has gone through something like this) that it was not my fault. It taught me that healing isn’t linear. That you’re gonna have bad days months and maybe even years after but that’s okay because that’s still healing. Therapy taught me that I’m strong, but its okay to not always be because we are human. To anyone who reads this I want you to know you are not alone and you’re doing amazing. I’m proud of you. You got this :)

I was just 3 years old when it started, my mom walked in on my older brother telling me to get undressed to play the love doctor game. He is my half brother so we had different moms. My mom told my dad to keep his son away from me. Unfortunately it continued for 11 more years. He would hold me down, cover my mouth and touch me or rub up against me. He would wake me up in the middle of the night by touching me. He would even do it when my dad was in the same room asleep but I couldn’t move, I was frozen. I fought everything at first but he was bigger than me and stronger than me so I soon learned that I was powerless. I would lay there crying and then I eventually went numb and would derealize. One time, I was wearing a bathing suit and my brother proceeded to tell me that I put it on to tease him. After that I hated wearing bathing suits. We went on a family vacation with my whole family, we were in the lake, and he started touching me in the lake, I couldn’t do anything but freeze. Those are just a few times it occurred given it was almost every day. He did it in front of my little cousin who then thought it was okay to grab my butt and try and kiss me. I came out about my abuse my sophomore year of High school, so about 2 years ago. I spiraled very fast starting high school, I began drinking a lot and getting into drugs to cope. One night, I was at a party and I got extremely drunk and high and was passed out, my ex bf dragged me into this supply closet and raped me. Everyone called me a whore for it and blamed me. I then went on a date with a guy later that year, for Valentine’s Day, he asked me to give him oral, I said no, multiple times, then he forced me, I cried the whole time, and still to this day he sees nothing wrong with it. I was told I shouldn’t have put myself in that position. I am still forced to be around all of these people and struggle with my mental health. I have PTSD, Anxiety, and depression, and they have no consequences for their actions only I do.

I was first raped when I was 14 years old, by a classmate. I didn’t know it was rape for almost 10 years. I was raped again when I was 20 years old, by a friend in my dorm on campus. I’m now 28 years old and work as an educator, counselor and advocate for interpersonal violence prevention. I have been searching for a place to share my story without having to share my identity (thank you endlessly EROC/It’s On Us for this space). I have so much to share but even more so I hope whoever is reading this knows they’re not alone.

Sharing my story in writing for the first time in my life- I am 61 years old now. I got pregnant when I was 21 years old. At the time I was in City - College- My boyfriend at the time and me decided to have an abortion. Abortion in City is illegal. But we found a " clinic" that said that they will be able to help me with the abortion. I remember that morning scare and so innocent. I meet the " doctor: who supposed to conduct the abortion. What this " doctor" ending doing was raping me while I was semi unconscious. I remember very clear all the things he did to me. I couldn't move. I remember waking up and telling my boyfriend, my sister but no one believe me and said that no way I could remember because I was under the anesthesia. I couldn't go to the authorities because what I have done was illegal and I thought that no one will be able to help. My sister stated that she believed me and went and tried to talk to the doctor (I do not remember that, but I do believe her). Honestly, this is the first time I am typing my story and no to many people knows about it. I am working now with survivor with DV and SA no because of what happened to me rather because I think is so important the support can provide to someone who has experiencing this horrific act of violence. Thank you for reading my story,

Why did you have to be so good at manipulating me. You flirted with me in class, you complimented my outfits when I thought no one cared. You told me you wanted to treat me right, and I'm the fool for beliving you? You told me we should go to the bar, so we did. I felt alive, I felt happy and you just wanted me to keep drinking so I did. You took me back to your place and honestly I don't even remember anything. I woke up and, I've got to give you credit, you were smart to say we had sex right away. It blindsighted me, I liked you so much I didn't want to assume the worst. But of course my little paradise I had with you fell apart. A month later you ended things, said I wasn't right and you wanted to be alone. I felt so destroyed but that wasn't even the worst of it. The puzzle pieces were starting to come together. I'm not coherent when I'm blacked out, if anything I'm demonic. I scream, I vomit, I sieze, I am in no way able to have sex but that didn't matter to you right? Because I wasn't someone you actaully liked, I was just a trophy. I found out only weeks after you left me that you and your football friends had made a bet, a stupid bet to see if you could sleep with me because honestly you weren't that cute. So I hope you're happy, I hope you're proud of yourself for what you did. I hope you never forgot your conquest because you have cursed me to never forget you. -Name

You feel like you will never heal,you will You will never forget but you will heal.. It took years for me to fine my confidence but I have it and will never lose it again...there are curtain things ....like the darkness ,I have nightlight in my house....walked thur hell and came out stronger... Hate roses to this day ,but love flowers... You will one day fine your courage to leave, It took me 17 years ,I did not do it alone had help Was hard ... its been 28 years. I could not save one,but I saved two..I watch my children and now my grandchildren grow and thank God they and I are here ...I am still healing ,but I am now living ... You will heal ...

Freshman year started with the It's on Us training, all freshman packed into the basketball arena. Jokes about "drinking tea" started then and continued throughout college. He was there. Listening, making jokes about "tea." At the beginning of second semester it happened. I froze but didn't say no until damage was done, I willed myself to speak, say the 'stop' and 'no' that screamed in my mind, but not until he started to go farther did my stillness break. I said no more and he listened. I hated it and it tore me up inside but I thought I was in the wrong. I didn't realize it was rape until five years later. I said okay the first time he raped me, it quickly became not okay. If someone starts drinking tea, they can change their mind and not finish. I froze. Don't force someone to drink tea. And "tea" jokes are rape jokes. Six years later I am starting to heal, to come to terms with what happened. I have healed so much in the last few months. It is difficult and the days aren't linear, but things are getting easier.

They say that the people you love are supposed to protect and care for you. I believed that for a very long time, until January 26th, 2021. That day changed my life forever. I had been talking to this boy on and off for over a year, and I loved him very much. Looking back, I was very naive and oblivious to the fact that he was manipulative, spiteful, and all around just a horrible person. He would control every aspect of my life. What I wore, who I hung out with, what I did everyday, what I ate. I was a prisoner. I had him over to watch a movie, and told him before hand I didn’t want to do anything. He came over, snuggled up with me, and we began watching a movie. You know that feeling you get when something wrong but you just don’t know what, I had that feeling, but ignored it. He kissed me, which was okay with me. Then he started groping me and pinning me down so I couldn’t move. I froze up, I had no idea what was happening and I was so scared that if I tried to stop him, he would get angry and just do whatever he wanted to me. So he kept going and I was in such shock I couldn’t move or speak. I finally got him off of me before he could, you know. But he left after he realized what had happened. I have been traumatized in my own mental prison and I didn’t tell anyone. His parent is a cop and I didn’t think anyone would believe me over him. I feel so trapped. Over the course of two months, I’ve developed an eating disorder, insomnia, and I have at least four panic attacks a day. It’s actual hell. Only one person knows what happened, my best friend. She’s been my rock through this. I’m starting to not blame myself as much and point the blame where it’s due. I don’t want him to control me anymore than he used to.

This is a interactive blog I created to share my sexual assault story, and my journey to healing. I only hope that others will have the courage to speak their truth. We all have a story and we are all in this journey to healing together.

he was like an older brother to me; my first best friend from birth, friendship formed from being neighbors. 4 years older than me. when i was 9 he wanted to play a game. he took me into a room away from his niece, younger than me and another close friend. he pulled down my clothes. denim shorts, i remember the feeling of them. once he got in, i had a gut feeling and ran. he let me, and when i went back to his niece, he took her back to the same room. i sat down and couldn’t move. i carry that guilt with me every single day, of not stopping him from taking her. i’ll never know what happened, but i know what he did to me. i would give up myself a thousand times over to go back and make sure she never feels that. i often feel as though i am more scared now than i was back then, as a child. i didn’t have words then for what it was, but now that i finally know what to call it, i can’t say the word without feeling like i’ll break. the more memories i gain, the more numb i become. i want to be a survivor; i want to feel like this isn’t destroying me inside and out. i want to survive.

It happened during my second year of graduate school. I traveled from Boston to Connecticut to attend a friend's birthday party. I had other friends that I knew who were going to be there, so I decided why not. The party took place in a private room in the back of a lounge/restaurant. Most of the people who attended where either in the same sorority as me, were a friend, fraternity brother, or fellow military officers of the birthday boy. We all were either dancing, drinking, and grooving to the music that was being played by the DJ in his corner. I remember the birthday boy asking me to take a series of drinking shots with him and a few friends---all custom made by the bartender. "Give us your best shot! [laughter] Surprise us," is what I remember him stating to the bartender over the loud music. The two shots we took at jägermeister mixed with a few other liqueurs. Black out. I woke up naked in a hotel room laying on top of and kissing another female friend surrounded by at least four other men in the room. They were encouraging us to continue to make out and grind on one another, including the birthday boy. In the moment, it looked and felt like that scene in a movie where a group of drunk college boys are at a party and egging each other on to do something stupid--but in slow motion. The slow motion became faster and reality sank in. I remember becoming fully aware of what was happening and jumping back and off of her. I remember her passing out. Black out. I woke up again. This time on the floor in front of the hotel bed. He was having sex with me as I woke up from my unconsciousness. I remember looking up to his face and looking to the left of his face realizing that the hotel tv was playing in the background. I remember telling him "no" and "stop" and pushing him off of me. I ran to the bathroom. I was still naked. As I entered the bathroom and shut the door, the first thought that came to my head as I looked into the mirror was, "How the hell did you get yourself into this situation? Is this really you? Are you really here right now?" I started to cry and then quickly reminded myself of where I was at. I then said to myself, "Wash your face. Find your clothes. Find your phone. But don't make a scene." So I washed the darkened mascara off myself. Walked out of the bathroom to find my clothes and phone. I realized that everyone except him seemed to be sleeping and there was another person who was sitting on top of the bed watching tv. The same tv that I saw to the left of him. The same bed that I woke up in front of, on the floor. "Was he just watching this entire time and didn't do anything?" That's what I asked myself. I found my clothes and phone. Phone was dead. After some time passed, everyone started to wake up and I just sat in the chair and waited for everyone to get dressed. We left the hotel room and went to a local IHOP for breakfast. I wasn't sure how to process what happened just hours before. I wasn't sure if I felt safe enough to ask them what happened. I felt disgusted with myself. I also wasn't sure if what I experienced was real. I was hungover. They all were in the military, including the female I woke up in my consciousness to the first time. They drove me all the back back to Boston and dropped me off at home. There was no mention about what happened. Goodbye. I entered my apartment, went upstairs, got in the shower and cried. After the shower, I crawled in my bed. Black out.

It was a cold snowy winter night just before the COVID shutdown spread across the country. I was attending the second-year graduate school class reception with a group of friends from the second-year graduate class. My "date" as my invitation to attend that class's event was really someone everyone knew was in a committed long-distance relationship and just using the extra ticket as a fun excuse to invite me as friend. It was a fun time to explore a historic mansion while having food and wine. An hour later, as it was about to conclude, one of the second-year's partners turns to me and tells me she would really like to meet me at a bar, and a group of people from that class are planning to go there. I turn to my "date" and we both agree to go. We drove to the vintage bar, one I never had been to before. I walk in through the snow and ice in my black high heels in a cocktail dress covered by my winter jacket, trying my best not to trip. A cocktail and a few conversations among classmates of my "date" later, I find myself in the corner chatting with the person who invited me to the bar from the reception. Something seemed off from the start of the conversation -- and it only got worse. The 30-something-appearing cis woman was a faculty member, yet seemed to serial date younger, new students at the same professional school -- a fact a classmate mentioned in passing with an eye-roll earlier. The one-to-one conversation with me appeared to go in circles, with her repeating the same stories over and over again without realizing that she was doing so. Awkward conversation, but it would just be a temporarily annoyance, my thought was. Yet it took an even more bizarre turn. She kept getting closer to closer to me as she was talking. At one point, she touched my shoulder, ostensibly to make a comment about how she liked my dress. She was mentioning her professional expertise and connections in the field I was, and still am, most interested in entering. She then started asking me awkward questions about how I was visibly trans, and then mentioned as a complete non-sequitur how she was the dominant "masculine" partner in her relationship. And then, to my horror, I noticed her abruptly lifting the bottom of my dress up and reaching underneath my dress to attempt to grope either my inner thigh...or worse. This wasn't just a slight motion; her hand was fully underneath my dress and moving fast upwards, from what I could clearly see from the brief glimpse I took. I immediately stepped backwards with a wide-eyed look on my face, in total disbelief of what just happened...and what did not happen that was mere seconds away from fully happening. She turned away in a hurry and walked back to her partner at the bar -- who was oblivious to what just happened -- grabbed him by the arm, and made an excuse to request to leave. This was not the first time I had experience attempted or completed sexual assault. Just like when I experienced rape the year of my college graduation, during a different cold winter night years earlier, I remember feeling puzzled, confused, and very much *not* wanting to put a label on what just happened to me. The events of each night leading up to the sexual assault always seem so random and not predictable as they are happening, but in retrospect, it is so easy to attempt to scrutinize every detail as a possible warning sign of what was to come. Yet I do not even want to think about the likely reality that the attempted sexual assault I experienced that night seemed to happen due to being visibly trans. When people think of post-traumatic stress disorder from an evolutionary perspective, it is typically thought of as an adaptive way to avoid situations of future danger. But when you're scared of social events and comments about personal identity, just think of how unpredictable the healing journey is.

i was fifteen when the very first boy i dated raped me. and then i turned sixteen, i got into another relationship (with someone i trusted even more than my first ex) and he also raped me. and every time i slept, i thought the rape would swallow me in whole because i didn't feel like i was really living after. however, i'm not their ex. i'm not a rape victim. i'm a survivor. i have a name. and the only thing that'll engulf my shores are the waves of healing drowning my sorrows away. i am in a healthy relatiuonship now, two years after all of that, and i am so proud of myself. i'm working everyday trying not to guilt trip myself over experiencing real and consensual pleasure and at the same time getting justice for myself (in my own way) for the fact that i was too scared to report back then.