– Tori Amos, “Silent All These Years”

 I’ve spent the last eight years trying to get my head around a label that has no place in my life – victim. I’m not a victim, nor a whore, tramp, bitch or slut or anything else that you might want to label me as.  I am: a survivor.  Two men at a party raped me when I was thirteen and I spent the following six years in silence. It’s only in the last two years did I allow myself to accept what had happened and it’s only in the last few weeks have I knowingly come into contact with other survivors.

All the facts and figures fail to grasp at the feelings, the emotions and the real guts of what it means to be sexually assaulted. They fail to mention the blood or the cold tiles or, in my case, the cruel laughter. They ignore the constant nightmares and the longing for a dreamless sleep. The word ‘rape’ sidesteps the years it takes to rebuild the ability to trust or how tiring it is when you have to juggle work, study, and the ongoing symptoms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. The silence extends to your own sexuality – how can I possibly ever enjoy having sex again?

I think that for me, I just wish I had contact with another survivor long ago. (I realise that I probably did given the statistics, but I hope that you can follow my drift.) I needed another to go and say, “This is what it was/is like for me,” so I could feel a little less isolated in this world. I’m thankful to say I have that now through a sexual assault survivor’s group run by my local health service.

The reason I’m writing this piece is two-fold. One, I’m reaching out to other survivors. You are not alone and remaining isolated and silent won’t help you in the long run. Please don’t for one second buy into the bullshit that it was somehow your fault – no one deserves to be raped. The long walk to recovery is easier if you have someone to help you along the way.

The second reason is I’ve come to realise that through two years of study here at UWS that we still have a long way to go when it comes to understanding the impacts of sexual assault. I’ve encountered callousness, flippancy, and downright cruelty towards survivors from both my classmates and teachers. Most of the time, these people didn’t know about my past, but I don’t see that as an excuse. Given the under-reported nature of rape, it’s unlikely that I’m the only one who’s experienced this.

It’s painful to hear so many people buy into rape myths – “Only bad girls get raped.” “She must have provoked him by wearing that skirt or agreeing to go up to his apartment.” “Strippers deserved to be raped.” “Men can’t be raped.” It was this kind of thinking that kept me silent for six years. It is this kind of thinking that needs to be changed. The silence is broken.

No one, and I mean no one, deserves to be violated in such a way that makes you question every action and reaction leading up to and following the assault. I wouldn’t wish this on my worst enemy, nor should anyone else. Rape is not funny. It’s not a joke.  It’s a serious crime with incredibly serious consequences.

If someone tells you that they have been raped, believe them.  Don’t question their actions, dress, if they were drinking, etc – just be there for them. They’re telling you something so painful and private from their past and your reaction can have a big impact on their recovery.

If you’re in a class and discussing the topic of sexual assault  please think about what you say before you say it. Chances are, there are other survivors in that room and you may be adding to the belief that silence is golden if you make ridiculous blanket statements about the “kinds” of people who are raped. It can happen anywhere to anyone.

If you are a survivor (and please find the strength in that word, because you are strong enough to claim it), do not think you are alone. There is assistance out there if you want it, all you have to do is contact your local sexual health clinic or health service and they can put you in contact with the correct service. Alternatively, you can contact the NSW Rape Crisis Centre on (02) 9819 6565 or 1 800 424 017 at any time 24 hours a day, seven days a week to speak to a counsellor or to get more information.

My name is Dani Barley and I am a survivor.

[Republished from The Western Onion, Issue 14, 2005. A link is available via the Wayback Machine.]