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“Imagine an ending”, said the counsellor. “See it as you want it, as you need it to be. Write your story and those in it as it should be in a just world”, she suggests. I think “no!”, it needs it to be real; a conversation with live faces across real tables, with a hug, a strong handshake, and a glance that lets me know it really happened in amongst the unreality of it all. Those conversations, as yet unsaid, will anchor me in truth, bathe me in facts and create a storyboard with pins and thread for me follow home. Those people, as yet unseen, will interpret it with me, a Watson and Holmes quest - in the room together as the facts reveal themselves. The institutions, as yet faceless, will now permit me to be a fly on the wall of those interviews where untruths were told. I need all this, I think, so that finally the lost threads are found, and I can write my story, now coloured with the gaps I have craved to fill; revealing me to myself. The words shared will help me to find my own. ……………………………………... Us women are left outside a system hoping that something or someone will ground us in the facts held at arms lengths- the facts about us, our assault, or experience. Many women who report sexual assault to the authorities face multiple hurdles. Some remain open to responding to this system that offers no guarantees for all we give to it. Others shut down before the act has concluded, resigning themselves to a painful silence in the hope it will be less so than the alternative public ordeal. The burden of proof lays solidly with us as we concurrently grapple with processing our own trauma. If we are able to share a palatable version of our story with other women, we soon realise how much worse it could have been. But we knew that already. Grading our experience with a perfunctory “at least”. It lives in us: this learned and inherited shame. We carry that burden before we are assaulted, and it is further cemented by the knowing glance or stern word spoken before we leave the house in those clothes. Later that night we are escorted to a beige room and asked to remove them all, still sticky with fearful sweat and told that without us in them, these articles might determine his guilt. There is always some authority acting as sartorial dictator, taking away our carefully chosen outfit with worried words or procedural hands. As such, we continue to hold the weight of their assigned moral value, and determine little of their impact, for that is decided by the viewer, whomever they may be in the room that day. ……………………………………... I am caked in heavy layers of dread, pending success or failure. Why did I start this thankless task? I enter another world, an office of sorts, where you catch a glimpse of the story not told to you, because by knowing you may contaminate the truth. Despite my bodily contamination, I am not permitted to know the full facts, as they say. The most personal and invasive event, prolonged by paperwork. This manufactured situation demands intimacy and yet requires, by law, complete professionalism. Their job, an often-thankless endeavour to find and prove the truth to a wig not made for this century. I try to picture my good egg behind the mask that doesn't fit his face. I saw more of him than ever before on our day in court. It was our day. I needed to see his eyes as he spoke; for the real-life connection to mirror the intensity of our past dealings. He is the only one who knows who I am in this. Until this happens, I float here, suspended in the delay, waiting to be anchored to the tangible earth beneath. To feel the bench and smell the varnish. To be present and audible. To be where life is being lived. We leave court and enter a room with my sister-in-assault. Kept apart for many months to protect us from further injustice. Unsure of the protocol and fearful of our matched pain, we join hands. We hug on my request – despite our fear of emotion and viral spread. How odd to have a thing such as this in common. To be joined together by an act of harm by a man with less years than us, so far away from home. We all came to this city with hopes - for opportunities – for a life beyond the limitations, however different, of our respective hometowns. Joined by this recurring act, we three meet again in a room filled with wood and plexiglass, unable to see beyond the thing itself. This dirty touch has smeared us all with a single colour, marking us out as dirt. Her wide face and open eyes meet mine in tears, a flood after a personal drought. Guilt shades my face pink – I wish she would cry. We share past fears and eventual overcoming and know from this moment on we are allowed to let go. The words have been spoken, by us, the good eggs, and the wigs. The ordeal is over, and permission is granted to lock our fear away with him in the middle of our land, far away from the hopes of this Eastern city. This is the end and the beginning.

I was raped about 7 months ago by a man I once considered one of my best friends. I felt safe in his company and I trusted him. We even had consensual sex on occasion. One night we both got really drunk, we were so drunk that I don’t remember how we started having sex, but I do remember him telling me on the walk home that we were going to have sex. The first thing I remember was that I threw up during, I didn’t even realize I had thrown up - he had to tell me so he could clean it up. But it wasn’t until I told him that he was hurting me, and he ignored me, that I really started to panic. I remember the shock that set over me when he didn’t immediately stop, and then the fear when I realised what little control I had over the situation. I cried and pleaded with him to stop by pretending I had to go to the bathroom. He asked if he could keep going first and I said “No!” So he stopped, I went to the bathroom, cried, and came back out. I thought that would be the end of it and I turned on a movie and turned away from him. I was wrong. He initiated again. I felt so defeated and ignored. I knew in that moment that he wasn’t going to stop until he got what he wanted, and I stopped fighting it. I hardly slept that night, but he fell asleep almost instantly. At first I thought it was just bad sex and I told him the next morning that it wasn’t good for me. He said he noticed that I seemed “disinterested”. For the rest of the weekend I couldn’t get it off my mind. I was sore and bruised and confused. I kept googling consent trying to figure out what had happened to me. It wasn’t until I contacted the rape crisis centre and described it out loud that I could admit that I had been raped. I never reported it to the guards and I don’t plan to. I confronted my rapist and tried to continue our friendship on the condition that he got therapy to ensure that this wouldn’t happen again - he did it for a couple of sessions and then stopped. We are no longer friends.

Last year a friend of mine invited me to his house for drinks. I thought nothing of this as it wasn’t the first time. I began to feel really drunk and went to lay down for a while. When I came back around, I realised his hands were down my shorts. I wanted to scream in that moment but no sound came out. I wanted to run away but my body wouldn’t move. I was completely paralysed. When it eventually stopped he then joked about the blood all over his hands, I was shocked and embarrassed that my dignity had been taken from me like that. For months I felt guilt and shame that it was my fault. I had panic attacks and nightmares that still persist. I found the courage to speak up one day and never looked back. I have so many people now who support me when I need it. You are not alone ♥️

Each year it crashes in like the waves beating the stand. It brings a swirl of emotion and feelings unbeknownst to my fragile mind. My body seises as it struggles to stay afloat. I gasp as the sharp prickly water traps my body, unable to move, but only to breathe, breathe... breathe... and breathe. A calm air slowly comes over me as I become conscious of this storm. Sobering me, I remember that it will pass...

I never realised I had to be wary of women, because I never expected one could take advantage of me. I had lots to drink and simply thought I had made a new friend. I was so drunk that I just went along with everything she suggested, even though I kept saying I had no interest in women. I still doubt myself and blame myself. I thought I was safe and never in my life expected a woman would sexually assault me. I feel nobody understands.

I spoke out against someone who I was so afraid of and still am, he perceived this "power" he had over me and his place in society. I never thought I'd be able to tell anyone never mind report, but I did. I am finding the process of the journey for justice very difficult and sometimes very isolating. On the bad days I have to remind myself, no one is above the law just because their place in society and no one no matter who they are has a right to exploit others. Looking back I sometimes feel like I've been hit in the face with a reality check of the two years of control and mind games used to take advantage of me

My first time was an assault. We were engaged. I had too much to drink. I felt so stupid for years because I'm a feminist, I should have known better. But nobody is immune from trusting a person who doesn't deserve to be trusted. I still carry this every day but I now have a partner who cares for me, and understands my trauma and my triggers. I'm doing better than ever and healing every day. I hope the same for all other survivors of intimate partner violence.

I was assualted, sexual assualted by a man I trusted, who I looked up to. I was 21 at the time, modeling, doing shoots, stepping into the modeling industry. Little did I know how dark things would get. These women who would stand by these abusers. He groped me from behind and touched me sexually on a shoot. I froze, I couldn't say anything. Couldn't process what was happening. He drove me home, told me to play with myself and let him watch. I ignored his requested and he told me if his wife found out, she'd die from the stress (she was sick at the time) and it would be MY FAULT. I strongly believed this and held everything in for three months. I pushed everything to the back of my mind, denied it. Everywhere I looked I saw the make of his car, his name, thought he was following me. I eventually I had a breakdown, went to the guards. Who were absolutely useless and laughed at my five page statement. There was no evidence but my word against his. So he got models to read off scripts and tell the guards how I was in love with this man and "asked for it". Told everyone in the industry that I was "unstable" and how he feared for HIS life. As if I was the predator. The coward couldn't even come forward himself...turned everyone against me. Feeling so alone, I confided in my dance instructors who I really trusted. Only for them to be STILL working with this man to this day. I gave up fighting as no one around me believed me. Taking me 7 years to open up again about my trauma. Everyday it still effects me..seening his name everywhere on social media. People singing him praises, if only they knew... would they believe me?? Do I risk going through the trauma all over again??

This guy was my best friend. He knew everything I was dealing with. He was the reason I got out of the abusive place I was in. Less than 2 weeks after I got out of that abusive place, he raped me when I needed a safe place to stay. I had trusted him so much with absolutely everything and he not only violated me, but my trust aswell. He then text me the day after telling me not to tell anyone what happened. But I didn't remember anything about what happened until 5 days after it happened. He denied and denied and denied when I confronted him until eventually he admitted to what he did. Its been numberyears and I still can't walk around my hometown alone anymore out of fear, I can't hear his name or see anything remotely near to what he was wearing or I was wearing. But I'm in therapy now and it's making me realise so much. I'm working on trusting the world again. I didn't deserve it. No one does. As difficult and painful it is to deal with something like this, we can all survive. We can get through it. Someone wants to listen to your story. Someone wants to help. Don't deal with it alone xx

I was raped when I was 18, just after my Leaving Cert. The man who raped me was a former partner. He had been physically abusive which had prompted me to end the relationship. Not long after it ended, he got in contact and asked to meet up to exchange items we had left at the others’ homes. I agreed, not thinking anything of it particularly. We arranged a time and agreed to go for a coffee in a spot we had often frequented as a couple. However, he was hours late turning up and looking back now, this was a huge red flag. I got into the car with him and he drove to a secluded location, incapacitated me and raped me. I will never forget the feeling of trying to prise his hands off of me and finally realising I wasn’t strong enough. It lasted nearly 4 hours and I was orally, vaginally and anally raped. He also used a foreign object during his attack. After it was over, he let me go and I walked for hours in the dark to get home. I didn’t tell a soul for days. The only medical attention I sought was the morning after pill. After about 3 days, I started to come to terms about what had happened to me, and that it wasn’t ok. That I wasn’t ok. I sought help from the SATU in Location and chose ‘Option 3’ which allowed samples to be taken and stored without a Garda present. I couldn’t speak highly enough of the care I got in SATU. They are angels. I later suffered a miscarriage at a relatively late stage in pregnancy, after finding out quite late. I eventually made a statement to Gardai and my perpetrator was arrested, although I decided at the time that I was not strong enough to allow the case to go to court. I suffered hugely at that time with symptoms I have now come to understand were PTSD and depression, and even considered taking my own life. But I accessed supports and met a wonderful psychotherapist and I later repeated my leaving cert and went on to gain entry to university, where I have had such brilliant support. I was lucky to access support that made all the difference to me, and my message to anybody reading this who was affected by sexual violence is that it gets better, and you can get through it.

I was raped about three years ago. It wasn’t like you see in tv shows where it’s down a dark alley way by a stranger. It was a guy I was friends with. It wasn’t violent either which is why it took me so long to realise what had happened. He kept asking to do an*l even though I told him on multiple days and about seven or eight times that day how I really didn’t want to do it and that I’d do anything else. He wasn’t giving in and I felt like I owed it to him. He told me he would stop when I wanted which made me feel like it was my choice. He guilted me into sex often and then verbally abused me and and horrifically emotionally abused me when I didn’t do what he wanted. He would often threaten to kill himself and I would believe him. It wasn’t until I finally escaped, about three months after I was talking about it with a friend and how I really didn’t want to do it. I had previously “bragged” about doing it because I was lying to myself. It wasn’t until I told her the truth she explained that I was in fact raped. It took two years to fully get my life back, I went to therapy and did a lot of self work. I went from upset, to angry to terrified and I did it all alone. I had no one but I made it through. I remember writing a note to myself about how I felt, how I thought I would never experience happiness again but I did. Every time I achieve something I look at that note and the photos of me crying and know I did myself justice. My justice may not be legally achieved but knowing he is an unhappy person, tormented by his own mind and will remain alone for life gives me peace.

AN OFFICER AND A GENTLEMAN...IT WAS NOT Month, Year I was on Holiday with a group of friends in Country. It was our last night on Holiday as we were due to fly home to Ireland the next day. We got dressed up and went out for some drinks to a bar.We got a nice table and we were enjoying the atmosphere and chatting There was a group of men not far from us enjoying the night out having some beers. There were a mixed group some were middle aged and 2 of the men looked young. I noticed 1 of the men staring at our table as he was drinking his beer. He was tall and muscular in build and had light brown hair with a hint of blonde in it. I was listening to my friend as she was talking into my ear. This particular man kept staring but I was not quite sure what he was staring at. I smiled towards him as that was my natural demeanor to be friendly. He did no smile back but he kept staring and raised his eyebrow. I did not take any further notice. I went to the Ladies toilets and when I returned the Man with light brown to blonde hair was now sitting on the seat I had been sitting on. The other Men all joined him at our table. They introduced themselves and said they all were working at Sea and were from Country. My friend was trying to talk to the Man who was had been doing all the staring but he just ignored her. She left to get a drink. He then turned his attention towards me and began talking to me. We were talking for awhile and then out of nowhere he Kissed me. I was surprised by the Kiss. It was just a quick peck on my lips. He then put his hands on my waist and complimented me. I said nothing as I was unsure of him. I asked him to dance with me as Bob Marley was playing and I loved Bob Marley's songs. He danced close to me and kept his hands on both my hips. We both went back and sat down I said I then wanted to go out side for some fresh air alone. He followed me outside. One of the other Men came too and called to him but he told him to give him a minute. I stood with my back against the wall of the bar outside. He had his left arm against it resting it there. I looked up at him as he was much taller than me. I was a little nervous afraid he might hurt me. He saw that uncertainty in my eyes. He told me he was not going to hurt me. He then lifted me up. He was so strong. He then kissed me more passionately. He put me down and asked me to have 1 drink with him. I agreed as I did begin to like his company. We had a drink together. He asked for my email. I wrote it down for him. We got a taxi along with the other Men and he left me safely back at the Hotel. He had to report back for duty. He emailed me the next day to take me out for dinner but I declined as I had to fly home to Ireland. We would email for the next 8 Months. I did not know what lay ahead of me and the deception that would occur. I decided to give him a chance as he seemed very keen. I was also very young and Naive at aged 26. He was also aged 36 and 10 years older. I have him a chance anyway. Month, Year This Man and myself were in constant communication when he was free to email me and we built an emotional bond.I was sad I could not see him due to deployment at sea. I tried my best to understand. This was a new world to me. I kept working as a Nurse and living my life. I looked forward to his emails which became more personal and intimate. He eventually said he wanted to meet me in Dublin in Month, Year to go on a Date together but then things changed with work for him. He apologised and told me how gutted he was. I off course believed him as I was only getting to know him. He then told me we would meet up the next time he had shore leave which was then Month, Year. He asked me to fly to Country. I agreed and he asked me to books Hotel which I did. I flew the beginning of Month, Year. I had mixed emotions. I had not seen him since Country in person but had still built up repoire with him. I met him that evening in Town in Country. We had food together and shared a bottle of wine. We talked a lot and he told me he got promoted to OFFICER. I congratulated him. I excused myself to use the Ladies. I came back and sat beside home. He suddenly grabbed the back of my head and kissed me deeply. He then said we should go upstairs. I followed but also knew things were going to get intimate but did not realise the way things would go. We went into the lift and he said nothing only stared at me. We watched Television for a little while. I could feel the energy off him and it made me nervous. I got up from the bed we were lying on together watching Television. He got up too and towered over me. He then pushed me onto the bed and began Kissing me furiously. He took my lower half clothing from my body. I was unsure and not really ready for sex between us as he scared me he was so strong but also very handsome. He whispered into my right ear exactly what he wanted to do to me.He kissed my top area and lightly touched me down in my private area. I asked him had he got a condom. He put the condom on and then he penetrated me but I found my voice then as his intense demeanor was scaring me. He was very riled up. I said NO and turned my head away from him. He said nothing only took the Condom off and looked at all of me intensely. He then pushed my left leg to the sideand proceeded to put himself into me using his hand to support and kept pushing his private region up against my private region. I disassociated after that as I knew I lost the battle with him. He eventually fell asleep snoring. I felt strange and sore. I fell asleep eventually with his arm around me. I felt trapped. I woke up the next morning and found my arm stuck to his stomach.He spoke to me and complained about his mouth been dry. I was going to get him some water. The next thing he grabbed my right side near my tummy and flipped me onto my back. He mounted me and wanted to penetrate me again as deep as he could. He was determined. I was sore and lifted my legs up resistance. I suggested the shower as I wanted to distract him from hurting me. He agreed but said nothing and took me by the wrist behind him into the shower. He took me into his arms and held me so tightly I was clinging to him holding on to his shoulders. He kissed me so deeply and hard. He let me go. I stood in the shower shaking. He waited for me to get dressed and then started teasing me as I cut myself shaving my legs in the shower. He said he would carry me to the hospital. We had breakfast together and he took me to a Attraction. He held my hand in the way to the Attractionbut no conversation. I felt strange and very sore. I wanted to not acknowledge what had happened between us. I felt I done something wrong and I caused it. When we went back to the Hotel. He looked and me an blurted out in what seemed like a shameful tone that He was married. I went OH MY GOD as I had no idea. He had lied to me and deceived into thinking he was my Boyfriend which off course he was not. I asked him why he invited me to Country and he could not respond. He then said he also had a little child. I stupidly asked as I was shocked and confused if the child was a boy or a girl. He snapped at me and said does it matter. I said I was sorry. I only asked. He then said a little boy. I said that was nice and walked away from him. He followed me across the room and then said He was the BASTARD there. I told him yes he was. After all that he asked me for a Kiss and a cuddle as and said I was an Amazing and Special girl. I turned my head away from him but he leaned in and kissed me on my right cheek. He got his bag and then went to leave but stared at me the whole way to the door. I walked up to him and told him I would meet someone better than him. He looked straight into my eyes. Then he walked away looking back at me. He was 1 Hell of a bad person. I had a luck escape. I spent years denying what he had really done to me. I went home from Country. I was very sore for days. I became very depressed. I got on with my life and Married a wonderful Nationality Man and had a Beautiful daughter. What the Nationality Officer done to me will haunt me forever. I finally acknowledged 16 years later that he did in fact Rape me. I wanted to protect him and not blame him. That it had been my fault for allowing him to do things to me and not communicate enough with him. It takes 2 People to communicate in any relationship. Nobody has the right to violate or coerce anyone else. I now know he had alot of coercive control over me. I will not let it define me but it never truly goes away. I have to live with it and so will he. I do now believe he knew what he done. I emailed him after to confront him. He never replied as too ashamed. I was a stark reminder of his shame.

Stuck in the bathroom. It is possible to be loved. When I spent ages telling my Mum and Dad that it would be ok to travel to city for a gig , I thought I was grown up and street wise. In reality I was a naive young man - my parents reluctantly agreed as long as we stayed with my friends uncle - this would mean we wouldn’t have to travel back late . The gig was fantastic - we got back to his flat the others went to bed. I stayed up chatting with name - after about half an hour he started asking me if I was a virgin and showing me pornographic magazines . I tried to get away and go to bed - he then attacked me and raped me . I locked myself in the bathroom and waited but he was still agitated - he wanted me to sleep in his bed - I had no idea that a man could do what he did to another male. Two weeks later I went back to stay again after a football match - this time I tried to persuade my parents that I shouldn’t go - but they didn’t want the ticket to go to waste - he attacked and raped me again - I eventually managed to lock myself in the bathroom . I mentally stayed in that bathroom for the next 40 years - never telling - never asking for support - 3 failed marriages - problems with drink - difficulties being a good parent. The first person I told after 40 years was my ex-wife - her response was “I can’t love you - you have violated me by keeping this a secret” - this was crushing and led to a decline to a very dark place. Now with the support of my children, my new partner , a fantastic psychiatrist and a therapist from support organisation - I feel better and believe I can be loved. It is never too late to start to heal .

We were friends. That is what I told him when he tried to kiss me when I was drunk. He smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That is what I told him when I agreed to sleep off the alcohol at his as he insisted it wasn't safe for me to walk home. I felt a sense of relief and comfort when he smiled and said he understood. We were friends. That was what was running through my mind in those seconds that felt like hours when I slowly awoke to his hands down my pants and his soft moaning. We were friends. That was what I screamed as I ran out of his flat. We were friends. That is what I repeated to our social circle that relentlessly placed blame on me for being to 'flirty' or 'leading him on.' We were friends. The realisation that took time to reconcile and fully conceptualise. My perception of the world now shaded with nefarious hues. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I began to enjoy life again. A fleeting moment overshadowed by a watchful eye and a sense of alert that never really leaves me. We were friends. That is what I told myself when I took on the shame that wasn't mine to bear and made me doubt what I knew happened to me. We were friends. That is what I told people when I began to share my experience. Every word feeling like a toss of a stone I had carried around for far too long. We were friends. That is where I find my empowerment. The deepest violation of trust and respect, and yet, I survived.

It's been 7 years almost to this day since I was raped. Seven years of denial, acceptance, denial again. Seven years of hiding how I am feeling from everyone I know and love because I feel like I should be 'over it' by now. Seven years of wanting so badly to talk about it, to share my story, to take away the guilt that I feel for something I was never guilty of. But always being too afraid. Too afraid of how I'll be seen. Too afraid of if I'll be judged. Too afraid of not being believed. But finally I am on the journey to understanding that for me talking is taking back my power, sharing is taking back control and connecting with people with this shared experience is giving so much power to our voices. Every healing journey is different, and I hope sharing mine will help someone else in theirs, because I know reading everyones experiences and sharing my own is extremely helpful for me. Xo In my third year of college I decided to go to Peru during the summer to volunteer in a home for children who had suffered through childhood SA and violence. I lived in this home for 6weeks and helped with daily activities, cleaning, afterschool fun etc. While there myself and my friend decided we would leave for a week or so to see Machu Picchu. We headed for Cusco and found a travel agency which offered a 5 day adventure trek to Machu Picchu which involved white water rafting, hiking and ziplining...every 22year olds dream trip. The trip started off amazing. Our local guide seemed so kind and interesting. He shared so much of his culture with us and our group was getting on amazingly. Then 3days into the trip we stopped in a small town with a bar. We all had dinner together and decided we would go out to the bar for a beer. We were all dancing salsa and having a good time. My friend and a few others decided to go home and I was left alone with our guide and some people from another group. I felt safe. I felt like we had all built a connection over the previous three days and a trust had been built. Our guide offered me a glass of beer from his bottle and told me he would teach me how to say cheers in Quechua. We shared a drink, chatted a bit and Then everything went black. From that moment on all I have are flashbacks. Nightmarish glimpses of what was happening to me, to my body, while I was helpless. The next morning I woke up in his bed with him next to me as he spun some story about him needing to protect me the night before because I got too drunk. And telling me how nothing had happened. I was groggy and confussed and sore and had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach but no real idea of what had happened or what was going on. I looked for my things and tried to get out of the room as quickly as possible....we had to leave for the next destination in 10minutes. As i left his room my friend found me, she was so worried but I still hadnt processed what had happened and I dont fully remember any of that morning. As the day went on the memories became stronger and the sinking feeling became more and more intense. I finally confided in my friend about what had happened. Thankfully she believed me, but the other girls in the group did not. I warned them to keep away from the guide but they said that it must have just been my imagination. We continued the two day trek. I acted as if nothing had happened. I even remembering trying to get the guides attention, not knowing how or what I was feeling. He ignored me. When we arrived back in Cusco we got the first possible bus back to Lima, back to the home, earlier than planned. A few weeks later I started final year of college and things finally began to sink in. Thats when the panic attacks began. The crossing the road if a man walked behind me. The need to be clean. The self isolation. Crying in the car, crying on the bus, crying at work, crying in college. Then soon after this I began to pretend. Pretend like I was fine and nothing had happened. I began to hide from it all, and in doing this hide who I am as well. Thankfully I am finally on the road to accepting my story and feel strong enough to share how I truly feel so that I can continue to heal. I can acknowlege when I feel down but also am beginning to feel true happiness again. I can think about what happened to me and share my story without being filled with a feeling of dread of how people will percieve me. I have accepted my story, and although I obviosuly still wish it hadnt happened, I am beginning to truly love the strong, resilient, empathetic person it has helped me become! xx

I always struggled with my words even before that night happened. Using alcohol as a mechanism to survive in social spaces I never belonged. Maybe that’s how he picked me out he saw his victim: lost, voiceless and out of control. After that night, I felt the loneliest and most out of place I’ve ever felt. That girl was lost, she felt out of control, she felt voiceless. Now, nearly 10 years later. I have found my voice. I am not a victim but I’m a survivor. I speak for women whose voices are lost too, so one day they will have the courage to find them and speak up too. You are never alone and anytime you use your voice I promise you, you’ll be heard. We are women, we are powerful!

A little over A number of years ago, when I was 19, I ended a numbermonth relationship with a man I had met in college. We had met during orientation, and he pursued me romantically very quickly. I was so delighted to be finally seen; I had never been in a relationship and no one had ever been interested in me before. Things moved very quickly, and in hindsight, it should have been a sign of what was to come. He kissed me suddenly one day when we hugged and I didn't turn him down. He was very pushy to progress things along faster than I felt ready for, but I convinced myself that I should be ready. Naively, I agreed to be in a relationship with him a week after meeting. Within a month, our relationship had become more sexual. He had forced his way to take my virginity when I just wanted some foreplay, but again, I didn't object and soothed myself that at least I didn't have a one-night-stand. Two months later, he wanted me to go on birth control when a condom and emergency contraception failed and I had an early miscarriage. He was particularly interested in me getting an implant. I didn't think it was a bad idea, as I didn't want to get pregnant again. Unfortunately, this enabled him to abuse me even more. The relationship turned violent as well as sexually abusive, and he wore me down psychologically, saying I was a terrible girlfriend and pointing out everything I was insecure about. He was very suspicious of my friendships with my male classmates (I was one of four women in a class of 40, I hadn't much choice) and accused me of emotional cheating and flirting with them when it wasn't true. Eventually, I had struck up a friendship with one of his friends he introduced me to from school, who I confided in that we weren't having a happy relationship. I didn't disclose any real detail during our conversations, but he was horrified by his verbal treatment of me and what my boyfriend said to him about me, and encouraged me to leave him gently over several months. I eventually did break up with him in a public space in order to try to be safe. Strangely, he was fine with it. He took his belongings from my apartment and left without any issue. The following day, he had already moved on to kissing another girl in a neighbouring college and ended up being in a relationship with her for many years - his insecurity about me cheating was a projection of his own behaviour. I ended up dating the friend who helped me to leave that relationship and we are now very happily engaged and cut ties from my ex completely, so I'm thankful we met despite the circumstances. Unfortunately, I never had any real evidence besides anecdotal to bring a case against him for what he did to me without my consent. Dates of those events are non-existent in my memory because I accepted it as being my duty as his girlfriend, and I remember very little now (possibly due to my brain wanting to forget the trauma) unless I get nightmares and flashbacks - there are a few moments that won't leave me. I am currently attending counselling and I'm so lucky to have a fiancé now who has always respected and loved me how anyone deserves to be treated, never been pushy for sex, and supported me so strongly when I disclosed to him fully about what happened in that relationship. I'm sad that my abuser walks free and I don't have any way to have justice, nor protect other women from him without facing defamation legal implications. It is hard to feel safe on my own if I am back in the same city where we went to college. I have seen him a few times in public, but thankfully he never saw me or didn't approach me. I have had some panic attacks out in public when this has occurred. I can only hope that maybe he has changed.

The way we learn about sexual abuse needs to be changed in schools because that’s where it started and I didn’t even realise. Small things that seemed like not a huge deal led to the shaping of my own attitude towards what is acceptable behaviour. When I was 14 during pe, a boy smacked my arse so hard with a table tennis racket it left a mark, I was so embarrassed and so self conscious that I said nothing. The next situation was when I was 16 and I had a younger first year student pinching my bum whenever the hallway was crowded, I could never catch who it was but I knew it was a smaller person in a younger year, it was like a game for them but I was uncomfortable, again it didn’t seem so bad and what would I even say if I were to tell someone? The next incident happened a few months later during a group project where we the students were in a room alone, I was standing talking to a boy the same age as me, I was in the middle of giving my opinion on the project which he clearly wasn’t listening to because he suddenly grabbed me and “jokingly” shook his head between my boobs. I was shocked, and so was everyone else but it had happened and that was that, I left the room upset but also worried I was being too dramatic, our group dynamic had been so good up until that point and I didn’t want to ruin it over this “small” thing so I said nothing, the boy apologised but it was already done, he later asked me to not tell people what happened because it was upsetting for him. These incidents all occurred in an environment where the incidents themselves never stood out, there were girls in my year who’s nudes had spread like wildfire, girls who were more developed than others with boobs and a bum who were labelled sluts purely because of their appearance, I myself got attention from boys and attention could only be positive surely? I was almost thankful that I was being accepted even if it meant I was being objectified and at times mistreated, I couldn’t see clearly at the time, I thought attention that made me uncomfortable was better than nothing. With school in the past I entered my first year of college, I’d had a healthy relationship before that had ended at this point and I’d had sex with only this boy so I felt ok with the thought of it with a new person. I was 19 and there was a boy in my class who I was head over heels for, my heart stopped whenever I saw him. I bumped into him on a night and the feeling was mutual, he gave me a kiss and I couldn’t believe it I was so excited I texted my friends and made plans to see the guy the following week. I saw him again on another night out and we kissed and he asked if I wanted to go back to his house so I said yes. I said yes Ready to have sex with this person. We went back to his house and we started, he was a bit rougher than my previous partner and didn’t take things as slow as I was used to but I didn’t want to cause an issue so I didn’t say anything. Penetration happened faster than I anticipated and it was uncomfortable and then painful but he kept going and I felt tears on my face I was in agony, he stopped eventually. I could tell he was annoyed he didn’t finish so I let him essentially have sex with my mouth, I wasn’t actively giving him oral sex. He got what he wanted out of the situation and I was lying there wondering what I had done so wrong, for him it was just a bad shag and for me it was feeling like I had been torn open, I wish I had said no sooner during the act. I got dressed in the dark and went home, I went to use the toilet and pulled my trousers down and my legs were covered in blood, my heart stopped. I got cleaned up and threw my underwear in the bin and went to bed my body still sore. The next morning instead of going to class I went to my gp. I told her a small lie and said I had a new boyfriend and we had rough sex and I was a bit sore, so she checked me and said I had a cut on my area, she told me to take a painkiller and to take it easy and off I went. Later that day the boy texted me, what a relief maybe this will fix the shitty feeling I have. He texted me to say I got blood on his bedsheets…and I apologised. He quickly moved on with his life flirting with other girls and having better sex than he did with me and I dwelled on it for a long time. I couldn’t have sex properly for a long time, whenever I tried my body shut down, my legs would shake uncontrollably and I would tighten up, I would have panic attacks and the whole time I felt bad for the men I was trying to sleep with, it was always my problem. When I met my current partner I told him what happened, I still didn’t know what to call it, just a bad experience. We took it slow, he was very understanding and let me get back to penetrative sex in my own time, allowing me to get to a point where I could actually enjoy it. My sex life is positive now, my partner and I have a healthy relationship. The incident years ago with the boy in college meant a long period of panic inducing sexual experiences but I think the cause began long before him. The attitude and entitlement of the boys in my formative teenage years had a lasting impact on me. It made me believe I had little to say in what happened to my body, whether I was allowed to enjoy sexual experiences and took away my voice where I could say NO. I think a different experience in school would’ve meant things would’ve gone differently with the boy in college because I still don’t know what to call it, for me it wasn’t rape because I never said no, my body says otherwise, my body felt what happened and shut down from it, it took years to recover. I’m glad I’m where i am now, my hope is that teenage girls get more support in school than I did.

He was my boyfriend. We had just had sex and he wanted to go again. I said “no”, he said “but I want to”, and he did. Those words ring in my mind so clearly. It wasn’t violent or aggressive, but it felt like something broke in me then. I carried that with me for a long time, and still do. Part of my shame was that I didn’t leave. Months later, I confronted him about it and he was so angry and not open to hearing me. That is not how someone who loves you, cares for you, or respects you acts. That is not how someone who respects women acts. It took me a long time to see that. Years later, I am seeing someone who is kind and safe. He doesn’t know this story but he cares for me and wants me to feel safe regardless. He has never been angry or upset when I didn’t want to have sex, if I wanted to stop or pause or talk about it or if there was something I didn’t like or wasn’t comfortable with. He listens when I explain a boundary and is always open to changing his behaviour to make me feel as comfortable and safe as possible. That is someone who cares, who inherently respects other people and wants to be a safe space. That is normal and the bare minimum. Abusers, perpetrators, and predators can warp your sense of reality but I promise you, people who are kind and good exist and there are so many more than you would think. You deserve to be treated with respect, kindness, and gentleness. That is never too much to ask for, that is the bare minimum.

Hello, My name is Name & I would like to share one of my poems to (hopefully) be read at Event😊 This poem is called "He Didn't Hit Me" and it is based on my own personal experience with an abusive relationship. I hope that anyone reading this poem & it resonates with them will take comfort in knowing that they are not alone ❤️ He Didn't Hit Me He didn't hit me, but his words cut like a knife, He didn't hit me, but he upended my life. He didn't hit me, but he made false accusations, He didn't hit me, but he had unreasonable expectations. He didn't hit me, but destroyed my hopes & dreams, He didn't hit me but ripped my confidence at the seams. He didn't hit me, but I always had to take the blame, For his shortcomings, moods & his manipulative game. Abuse isn't just physical, this I know to be true, Gaslighting & manipulation are powerful tools, Knowing I deserve better, I am finally free, For I am much more than what he tried to make of me.