Category: Brock university

Survivorhood Story #8

Trigger Warning: Sexual assault, Rape, Drugs/Alcohol, Relationships, Brock University, Self Harming

I have been sexually and violently assaulted 4 times, each time ranging in severity.

Telling these stories makes me feel gross inside, bringing to the surface of my body all the guilty feelings which I have attempted to push back during the course of the last four years.

The first time I was sexually assaulted, I was at a party when I was 15.
I did not have a high tolerance for alcohol, and I was quite petite in frame, so after two drinks I was definitely wobbly. I was offered a joint passed around by a group of guys at the party, so I took a couple hits. Shortly after, I began to feel the effects of the joint course through me, making me feel extremely lightheaded.

The music on the host’s computer stopped, so I walked over to where the computer was in order to put on some music.

Sitting by the computer, smoking a cigarette, was the host. He had been smiling at me the entire night, and he was two years older than I was, so I felt special that I had been noticed by someone older and cute. I leaned over him, attempting to put on some music, but he grabbed me and pulled me into his lap.
I froze, not knowing what to do. It was very abrupt, him pulling me into his lap so quickly an without warning. He towered over me. He was easily a foot taller than I was, so I felt minuscule sitting on his lap, with my feet dangling.
I told myself that this was ok, he was just having fun. So when he kissed me, I kissed him back, relaxing a tiny bit.
After we kissed for a couple minutes, I got off him so I could rejoin my only friend at the party, but he roughly pulled me back onto him and began feeling me up.
I felt really nervous, and squirmed as he reached into my bra and began tugging on my nipples. I tried to tell myself that it was fine, all the cool girls at my school did things like this, but I kept feeling as though it was wrong. I didn’t particularly want to do anything like this, and again, I tried to get up, but he forcefully restrained me, and reached into my pants and began to finger me.
I thought that it was pointless to resist after that.The sad thing was, I would’ve done all of those things with him, had he just asked me first.
The second incident happened when I was 17, with my boyfriend at the time. We were trying anal sex for the first time. None of us had done it before, so needless to say we were inexperienced and ill-prepared.
When he began to penetrate me, the pain hurt so much that I cried out, but he began to push into me further. I yelled for him to stop while I started to cry, but he didn’t stop. I felt as though I couldn’t move, it hurt so much. Finally. he noticed I was crying and finally pulled out of me. When I confronted him about it, he told me that he “never heard me,” but I know that was a lie because I was shouting for him to stop.
From then on, until we broke up a year later, he continued to commit inappropriate sexual actions against me, after I had told him I did not consent. Sometimes he would grab my butt in public, or squeeze my breast. Sometimes he would try to have sex with me, by attempting to reach his hands down my pants, and when I’d tell him not to he would do it anyway. It would always end with me storming off, and on a couple occasions he even physically hurt me.
The third incident happened with a close friend of my boyfriend’s.
He was always extremely flirtatious towards me, to the point where it made me feel awkward and uncomfortable. However, the group of people who I partied with who were close to him never acted as though it was a big deal, so I decided it wasn’t either. Eventually, his flirting began to subside somewhat, and he started treating me as more of a friend.
A year later, he was constantly drinking. He started to make me feel awjward and unsafe around him, as he began to say extremely inappropriate things to me, telling me that he wanted to have sex with me, and that he wished I was his girlfriend.
When he was drunk, he would start to grope me. He began to do it when my boyfriend wasn’t looking, but it go to a point where he started to grope me even when my boyfriend was present. I always told him to stop, but he would keep doing it every time.
The final straw was when I got so fed up with him, that I punched him in the face. He punched me back, leaving a purple bruise on my cheek. When I told my boyfriend what happened, he told me that his friend was just “being himself,” and that I should drop the incident. I broke up with my boyfriend after that. I felt doubly betrayed by that incident, I had been sexually assaulted by someone I knew, and my boyfriend didn’t even appear to care.
The fourth incident occurred last year, on campus. I was going through a difficult time following the events of the breakup with my ex-boyfriend. I had made friends with a male who was one year older than me on campus, and I told him what had happened. I had been cutting myself, and he seemed to be very kind and supportive of me, when I felt as though I didn’t have anyone who I could talk to about it. I felt like he didn’t make light of my experiences like my ex-boyfriend did.
One night when we were sober, he tried to pressure me into having sex with him. I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him; I wasn’t interested in that. He told me that he accepted that. I let it slide.
The next night, we were hanging out with a large group of people. I ended up drinking far too much, and couldn’t walk properly. He offered to walk me home, so I accepted. I was leaning on him for support.
When he reached my residence building, he asked me if he could walk me up to my dorm room. I told him he could, because I needed help walking up the stairs.
When we got to my room, I unlocked the door and collapsed on the bed. I felt like I was going to be sick.  He started to kiss me, and I told him I didn’t want to have sex with him, but he took off my clothes. My head was spinning, so when he said “you would still do this even when you’re sober,” I felt too sick to move. I blacked out shortly after.
The next day, I told him I wasn’t interested in him. When I wanted to leave his room, he grabbed me and twisted my arm.
I stopped talking to him shortly after that, but I remember him asking me “did I sexually assault you?” and I just didn’t know what to say.
I feel shameful and naive thinking about these experiences. Oftentimes, I think “I should’ve done something different. How could I have been so trusting and so naiive?” I’ve been sexually assaulted by a stranger, my friend, my ex boyfriend, my ex boyfriend’s friend. I’ve beaten myself up mentally for being too trusting, but I know now that it’s not my fault. It’s not my fault that women are taught to blame themselves for being the victim of sexual assault. It’s not my fault that women are taught to “avoid” getting sexually assaulted, while men are taught that they can get away with committing acts of violence and sexual assault against women. It’s not my fault that consent is not taught. It’s not my fault that there are people in my life who took advantage of my kindness.
It was NOT MY FAULT.
And it is not yours either

Story of Survivorhood #6

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault, Rape, Brock University, Attempted Suicide

I never imagined was that I would have the worst night of my life within a week of realizing my dreams to become a student. I am always horrified now that we push girls to go and seek higher education, when what waits for 20% of them is sexual assault. How is it fair that we can’t even feel welcomed by our peers (and lately it seems, our faculty), without fear of assault. It’s not fair how my university experience has been an endless stream of violations against my body, instead of being a time when my main focus is to learn. University should never have been about surviving, but for me that’s all that it’s been.

A week into my first semester I was raped in a residence room by a boy who thought it was ok to get a girl drunk and pull her into his bed. The same boy was worried that I wouldn’t be safe walking home alone at night and all I could think was ‘so what, what are they going to do? Exactly what you just did?’. I didn’t even hate him after because I couldn’t feel anything except for sickness, and pain from the bruises, and scrapes, and cracked ribs. I spent my first weekend at university in a crisis centre, and my 18th birthday waiting for the results of a pregnancy test. It took the school months to even consider taking action against him after my don saw the bruises and reported it; they never even gave him a warning, they just told me to keep quiet.
I’ve been assaulted more times than I can count since then, and I’m so close to giving up. The first time after the first time was by the brother of a friend who promised that he would always keep me safe. They never let me talk about it because they said that him getting me so drunk I couldn’t stand up, and having two grown men hold me down while he shoved his hands down my top was somehow my fault. The same person said that when his friend pinned me to a bed face down and got on top of me while he held my wrists, it was because I had lead him on. These were never as bad as the first time, but there’s something horrible about feeling like all you will ever be is a body to be taken advantage of for the fun of men.
 I’ve had one suicide attempt, and after in the hospital they told me that I had so much to live for. That same day, the person who picked me up after I was released assaulted me repeatedly, and I was too numb to even care. I didn’t tell anybody for weeks because I didn’t want to have to disclose that I was being raped, again, by somebody I was supposed to be able to trust.
I don’t understand why this happened, and I can’t even come close to understanding why it had to happen so many times. Sometimes I start to believe that it’s my fault, and with every new assault it becomes harder and harder to believe that it wasn’t something I did. It’s hard for me to even write this out because I know that so many people won’t believe me. I’m afraid that people will think that I’m just making this up, or that I’m overreacting to what has happened.
I don’t know, maybe I am. I wish I was.
I can’t take another day of being a survivor, of living in fear of being victimized again.
Now I’m looking at the hospital band on my desk from a night this week that I have no memory of, not really knowing what happened, but knowing that I don’t want anybody to know. I think I’ve spent two lying on my bed staring at my computer screen, hoping to feel something, but nothing works.
I’m exhausted, and angry, and sad.
I don’t want to do this anymore, but how can I stop?

Story of Survivor hood #1

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault, Rape, Brock University

This is my story:
I was at isaacs one night and went home with a group of people that I didn’t know very well but lived next door to me. I was very intoxicated but they invited me over to hang out for a bit and due to my impaired judgment I agreed. Everything was fine and I consented to having sex with one of the guys. After this happened I was going to leave but was grabbed and forced into a washroom and thrown up against the sink by one a guy I never met before. I was so intoxicated I didn’t really know what was happening. I was left in the bathroom alone not sure what to do. I finally got up and walked out of the washroom about to leave when I guy I was familiar with saw me and told me to come with him and I thought that he was going to ask me if I was ok and knew what had happened. Instead he forced me into a bedroom where there was nobody around and pinned me down. At this point I began to cry and told him to stop and that it hurt. He wouldn’t until I finally got him off me and left. On top of being raped twice in one night, my credit card and some cash had been stolen from my purse while it was happening, and so I had to deal with the credit card company the following day. I didn’t report the rapes for a few days but when I did I went to the hospital and had to begin taking chemotherapy just in case one of the two guys had HIV. The chemotherapy makes it so the virus won’t attach to your immune system if you came into contact. They made me very sick and I was bound to my bed at home the entire Christmas break. On top of this, I later found out that I was pregnant and I had to go through the grieving of an abortion. But thankfully all STI tests came back negative. This experience was very traumatizing and neither of the guys were kicked out of school. I didn’t press charges because of the long process and I wanted to move on with my life. On top of these guy not getting arrested or kicked out of school, one of them ended up being on a trip I went to with the school. Although it was hard, it has gotten easier and I am a much stronger and more aware person now. Whenever I go out (which is rare now) I make sure I’m always leaving with a person I trust. I learnt a lot from this experience.