I went to college a virgin. I’ve written about this in previous blogs. I was ashamed and felt inadequate. I even wrote to Betty Dodson back when that was a feature on her website, and she gave me the advice you’d expect. Be sexual with yourself first; partner sex can wait. Luckily, I had been masturbating since I was a young girl. And that, as I’ve said countless times, saved my life.

In college, at 20 years old, I was sexually assaulted. I usually refrain from using that kind of language about the incident. And I’ll get into why. I was drinking with my roommate in our shoebox-sized dorm room. She had invited a couple of men who seemed harmless. They lived a floor below us and were friendly. They had brought the alcohol. At a certain point, they all left, including my friend. She went to hook up with someone.

I stayed alone in the dorm room, stumbling my way around. As I was changing into my pajamas, there was a knock at the door. Megan knocked before she came in, and I thought nothing of it. I stood there in my bra and shorts as one of the men came back in. He was one of the quieter ones. He played football on our college team. He was taller than me and certainly bigger.

I stood in shock, and I think he misinterpreted my saying “come in” as permission. He immediately grabbed me and threw me onto my bed. I was saying no right away despite being very drunk. He removed my bra and started touching me. This was the first man who ever touched my breasts. To this day, I don’t drink at all. I don’t enjoy feeling drunk, and I don’t lose control.

I said no repeatedly. He was insistent and kissed me a few times. Maybe it was the alcohol and how unsexy the whole ordeal was, but I felt myself getting sick. I said no louder and more insistent. This time, he listened, and he left, slamming the door behind him. I stood up, horrified, and locked the door. At the time, this event unnerved and devastated me. I was a virgin and rather desperate to be sexual with people. It felt unfair and cruel that this was my first experience.

I visibly remember breaking down to my father and brother about it. There was a different kind of shame involved in that. With my mother and I being so close and being women, it was a different conversation. Not that my dad or brother didn’t handle it with grace and kindness. There was simply a level of shame that I wasn’t expecting when talking to men about it.

I guess there was an expectation on my end that I would be blamed. That was my unfortunate introduction to the way things were. I had this experience later with a boyfriend who was with me when a stranger on the street grabbed my boob and ran away. A silly incident, but I could not look that boyfriend in the eye. And he was as sweet a man as could be. I think there’s a somatic, ancient, and deep shame that is not hard for women to tap into. Our initial response to these incidents, especially when talking to men, even ones we trust, is to blame ourselves.

I mentioned earlier that I usually don’t describe this event as a sexual assault. First and foremost, I realize, unfortunately, how lucky I was. Sure, I could’ve started screaming, but at 2 in the morning, would anyone have come to help me? I was very fortunate that he left. I continued to see him throughout my time at the college, but I avoided him. And warned people about him. I wasn’t the only one he was inappropriate with.

Betty Dodson had a very unique and bold approach to sexual violence. One that I didn’t understand until I saw The Vagina Monologues in person. I was thrilled to see women’s sexuality celebrated and devastated when sexual violence appeared to steal the show. What happened to me was a sexual assault. Does it continue to define my sexual life? Absolutely not. My relationship to myself and my orgasm is my own.

In order for us to survive these experiences, and unfortunately, all women must survive them in one way or another, we have to overcome them. And the only way we do that is by sharing our story and releasing. You are not defined by what happened to you. What happened to you is not your fault. And despite any narrative to the contrary, your body is your own. You can be sexual with others or not. But by touching yourself and looking at yourself in the mirror in the circle or at home, you begin to understand that your power cannot be taken without your consent.

When triggers come up, sit with them and breathe through them. I believe that by sitting with them and being consistently orgasmic with my body, all of this fear and anxiety that’s built up in my body ebbs, flows, and moves along. That is real and unshakeable power.

Photo by Nicole Arango Lang on Unsplash

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