The Power of Voice: Why I Chose to Speak Up About Sexual Assault

As I sit down to write this, I can feel the weight of every word pressing down on me. It's April 4th,—the day I share a piece of my soul that's been tucked away in the darkest corners of my memory. The agony, the loneliness, the hollow echoes of my own voice pleading for it all to stop—it's all too fresh, even after all these years. In 2019, I finally found the courage to confront a chapter of my life I had long buried beneath layers of shame and fear. As I began to unravel the tapestry of my past, I realized just how much power his actions still held over me. How they continue to haunt my every thought, my every interaction, my every dream.

It's a story I've only shared in fragments—a narrative stained with pain, confusion, and betrayal. But today, I refuse to let his darkness overshadow my light any longer. Today, I take back control of my story. I wish I could say it started with a stranger—an unfamiliar face lurking in the shadows. But the truth is, he was someone I thought I could trust with every fiber of my being. Our relationship seemed perfect at first—a whirlwind of laughter, adventures, and shared DNA.

I remember the first time I felt it—the subtle shift in his embrace, the pressure against my body that sent shivers down my spine. I brushed it off as a trick of the mind, a fleeting moment of discomfort. But deep down, I knew something was terribly wrong.

Time had passed, and everything seemed normal, which only confirmed I had been anxious about nothing. But then came the next encounter, one that would forever shatter any illusion of safety or normalcy. He needed a ride to the airport, and I obliged. Little did I know, it would turn into a nightmare.

That night, we stayed at a hotel because he had an early morning flight, and I had dance class the next day. As I lay in bed, exhausted but excited to watch my favorite show, "Pretty Little Liars," everything seemed fine, but he became angry with me, demanding. That is when hours have vanished from my memory, the next thing I remember is feeling him behind me, pressing into me and I felt my my heart shatter. I was frozen with fear, unable to move, as I felt his presence looming over me.

I couldn't shake the feeling of dread as he did things I couldn't bear to comprehend. All I could think about was how to escape, how to survive. I pretended to be asleep, hoping he would leave me alone, but he persisted. It felt like an eternity before I mustered the courage to feign waking up and excuse myself to the restroom. And then I ran, as fast as I could.

Crying, shaking, and confused, I stumbled upon a janitor who offered me sanctuary. In his kind eyes, I found solace and a glimmer of hope. He didn't pry into my trauma but promised to keep me safe. And for that, I will forever be grateful. That night, as the rain poured down, I struggled to make sense of what had happened. His denials only added to my torment, but deep down, I knew the truth. I battled with myself, questioning my own sanity and worth. The drive home was a blur, as I wrestled with my demons and contemplated if life was worth living in that moment.

Despite my exhaustion and despair, I showed up for dance class the next day. I danced through the pain, hiding my turmoil behind a facade of normalcy. Inside, I was crumbling, but I refused to let anyone see my weakness. The days that followed were a blur of tears, self-blame, and unanswered questions. My life had been irrevocably altered, and I struggled to find my footing in a world that no longer felt safe.

Today, as I recount these harrowing memories, I do so not out of self-pity or resentment, but out of defiance. Defiance against the darkness that once threatened to consume me. Defiance against the shame that once suffocated my spirit. Defiance against the silence that once held me captive. I share my story not for sympathy or validation, but as a call to action—a call to break the chains of silence and shame that bind so many survivors in darkness. It's time to shine a light on the epidemic of sexual assault and reclaim our voices, our bodies, and our lives.

If you've experienced sexual trauma, please know that it wasn't your fault. You are not alone, and your pain is valid. Trust your instincts, and don't hesitate to seek help and support. Your voice matters, and you deserve to be heard and believed.

To everyone reading this, please listen to that voice inside of you. If something feels wrong, don't ignore it. You have the right to say no, to set boundaries, and to prioritize your safety and well-being. Together, we can create a world where survivors are supported and empowered to reclaim their lives. So, I urge you to listen. Listen to the stories of survivors with empathy and compassion. Listen to their pain, their struggles, their triumphs. And most importantly, listen to their call for change.

Together, we can create a world where survivors are believed, supported, and empowered to reclaim their narratives. A world where the darkness of sexual violence is replaced by the light of healing, justice, and hope. But it starts with us. It starts with a willingness to listen, to learn, to stand in solidarity with survivors everywhere. And it starts today.