I’ve been sexually assaulted four times

They say that one in four women have been sexually assaulted in their lives. I’ve been that statistic four times. Four times in the past three years, in the city that raised me.

The first time was in my dorm, where I was supposed to feel the safest. The multiple security procedures made me feel safe from outsiders, but what do you do when someone you know is your attacker? What happens when he won’t leave you alone, when he knocks on your door at 3am and you can smell the alcohol under the door? What do you do when he tells others he wants to rape you?

I tried to ignore it, but that wasn’t the right decision.

He started by saying perverted things and grabbing my ass. I took offense to it, but did nothing about it. Instead, I would just shoot him an annoyed look and walk away. But that didn’t get the attention he wanted, so he tackled me in the hallway of my dorm one night, bruising my legs, back, and shoulders.

The next time, I was alone in my room when he stormed in. Completely startled, I jumped off my futon and that’s when he grabbed me. He grabbed my arms and pushed me against my heater. He told me I needed to stop being such a tease, he said he was going to get what he wanted tonight. He tried to kiss me, to put his hands under my clothes while keeping me pinned down.

Impulsively, I played along – I thought that if I told him I wanted to go to his room, we would get into a public hallway where I could protect myself.

I bolted to my House Fellow’s room and frantically pounded on the door. My attacker got scared off and ran away, leaving me crying outside my savior’s door.

I felt unsafe so I started spending time with my then-boyfriend, in a house where I could find peace.

But three months after those assaults, I was attacked again. This time on my walk home.

It was a walk I did every other day. The street was fairly busy and I knew many of the people who lived in the houses on the block. I had always felt safe.

I was walking in the rain when I heard music and a guy’s voice. I saw someone jogging up to me from between two houses. He grabbed my arms. He pushed me into the wet darkness. He pulled down his pants. He told me the rain would “keep me wet”. His breath fogged up my glasses.

I managed to escape. I was wearing a rain parka that was far too big for my body. He moved his hands and thought he still had me pinned in my jacket, but I wriggled out of the parka and ran. Thankfully, a police car was parked three houses down, and I waited. My parka was there in the mud, no one to be seen. I’m convinced that someone was looking out for me.

My life started to fall apart. My then-boyfriend thought I was searching for attention, he thought I was somehow asking for this to happen. I didn’t have his support, and I now didn’t have a place on campus where I felt safe.

I started jumping whenever I heard a knock on my door, and I wouldn’t walk near that street anymore. I was afraid of all men, including my brother, someone I love dearly and who I know would never hurt me. I couldn’t feel safe around guys anymore.

My life was being controlled by men who decided I was theirs for the fucking, and I didn’t want to feel that way anymore.

With self help, therapy, and medication, I felt more like myself six months later, the lowest six months of my life, ones that I will always see as my “dark days”. With a support system, tools to cope, and a shift to bettering myself, I learned how to handle my past.

That is, until a week ago.

A week ago, I was sexually assaulted in a convenience store by a stranger who followed me for six blocks. I had used all of the tools in my arsenal: I started walking close to the group of girls in front of me, I had someone on the phone who knew what was happening, and when that didn’t work, I walked into a well-lit convenience store with a handful of people inside.

He followed me inside and through the aisles. He got behind me and slid one hand down the neck of my shirt, the other trying to unclasp my bra. I yelled: “I don’t know him, I don’t know you” and tried to get away. The guy kept pursuing me down the aisle until he was aggressively stopped by a police officer in the store.

I was shaking the rest of the way back home, afraid to enter my empty house even with the police officer outside making sure I was OK.

The worst part is that I’m not the only one. I know I am not the only person who has been sexually assaulted and hid it in fear of being judged, being hurt again, or being unable to cope. I know I’m not the only person in Madison, in Wisconsin, in the nation that has been sexually assaulted. In light of the Brock Turner case, I felt like I needed to take a stand. I needed to share my story and let others know that this happens to more women than they think.

But I’m a survivor, and I’ve survived four times.

For the people who have been assaulted: I apologize. I apologize for the stupid decision someone else made, a decision that has negatively impacted your life. I’m sorry that you have to deal with the self-doubt, the depression, the inability to trust people. I’m sorry because I know how hard it can be.

But I learned that there is always help. Even if you are afraid to talk to your family, go see a counselor or a doctor, anyone can be there for you. It’s scary telling your loved ones, but it helps.

It gets better.

I’m no longer sad when I think about my assaults, I am livid. I grew up in this city, and I have never felt more unsafe in my life. These men, these boys rather, have tried their best to destroy me, and I will not let that happen. I will keep persevering in the city I love – no one can change that.

No one should be afraid of their home, and I sure as hell am.

You can contact the National Sexual Assault Hotline on 800.656.HOPE (4673) for access to free support services.

@TheTab