The night it happened
I can still recall what I wore on that night. It was one of my long floral dresses that I often wore for Sunday Service
It started as a real chill and beautiful night. We went to a fine restaurant where we ate, laughed, had meaningful conversations then ate some more. It was a lovely night. Or so I thought. I was in my final year at the University, he was working and six years older than I was.
Once we were done, he suggested that I go to his place since I was to leave early the next morning, which was a few hours away. I mean, I trusted him. I had been to his place before, so I didn’t think much of it. We got there; spoke some more as we had so much in common. Then it happened. I still had my dress on. He came onto me. I mentioned I didn’t want us to get there. Which was not new as we had had the sex talk before. But he didn’t listen. I thought he was just fooling around. Then I knew he wasn’t. He pushed me on my back on the bed, held my hands tightly, and that was it. It was happening. My mind was trying to go in circles how we moved from a lovely night to a night I am going to dread for the rest of my life. The moments following that are blur, but certain details will forever remain clear, like how fearful I became, how I could feel rage brew up in me. I wished I could run, flee even but I couldn’t. He let me go when my whimpers became louder.
After it happened, I blamed myself over and over insisting that if I left him sooner, I wouldn’t have found myself in such a situation. I was hurt and confused. I went to his living room and cried. Soon after, I left. I was confused as to why he could have done that to me. I didn’t know how to label the ordeal, because when you are forced down and your hands held down by someone you love who is so much heavier than you are, it is hard to fight back. Was that abuse? I wasn’t sure.
Knowing your perpetrator complicates matters. It’s the reason most people don’t report their assault, and it’s why I didn’t know I was assaulted in the first place yet I knew I had been violated. I didn’t consent to anything.
To date, I am not sure why he decided to do it. To abuse me in that way. Maybe because he knew if he asked us to cross that line in our relationship I would say no. Still, he made that decision without my input. In that moment, it wasn’t about us, it was about him. It was saddening. I had been betrayed. I thought he really cared about me, but this didn’t feel like something someone who cared about you would do. But I still wanted us to be okay. So I acted like his girlfriend.
I did what most girls do and continued on. I didn’t know that it is incredibly common for sex between people who love each other to be non-consensual.
I never went back to his place after that. But we could talk on phone. We met briefly maybe twice in town before I broke up with him.
Greater than the pain that happened that night, was the pain that entered my soul. Sexual assault is so widespread, a fact that has been denied for so long that I think it is about time we taught our sons and men what consent is.
If I had gone out, then someone forced themselves on me the way he did, maybe I would have told someone sooner. But in the context of our relationship, I was disempowered and unable to firmly state that what had happened to me was sexual assault. My consent was not any less important because we were dating.
So many girls have nights like mine – or worse. Some girls wake up to a friend or boyfriend having sex with them. Some girls are violently attacked in public or in their own homes. Or worse; raped. Any time someone comes forward about being sexually assaulted in some way, there are so many opinions about it. In my case, some might say it wasn’t a big deal as we were dating. Or that it was my fault since I was at his house.
Isn’t it sad that when a girl says she was sexually assaulted; our first instinct is to think she’s probably lying? We demand for “perfect victims” who better not have put themselves in a compromising situation like being home alone, or been hanging out in a party, or dressed in skimpy clothes.
The facts in my situation are pretty clear to me: He forced himself on me in a way I hadn’t consented to.
Even after seeing a therapist, actively working on my healing, there are days when it’s still difficult for me to share this story. I only do it because I think it’s important that in our continuing public dialogue about sexual assault, we don’t forget about relationships and all the messy and grey forms that an incident like this can t
Sexual assault hurts women. Akikataa wachana naye, even if she’s in your bed, naked. Ni vigumu sana kuelewa wanawake, but dame akikataa usi force. She’ll be hurt for a long time.
my rule is always one,before i commit to spending a dime on a woman the terms of engagements must be clear and in case she changes her mind after i spend on her if we are still in the establishment she pays and i leave else if at my place she leaves,i have force one to leave my place at 2AM coz of talking shit after spending on her