People | Bodies

How I Felt Watching the Election as a Survivor of Sexual Assault

On Election Night, I thought again of the boy who assaulted me. When had I finally stopped blaming myself?



I’m realizing that what C did to me freshman year of high school was sexual assault, but I am still blaming myself.


I’ve never gotten over this fear, the inability to talk openly about the hard things. When I was diagnosed with clinical depression last year, I sent my mom an essay I was writing about it instead of telling her directly.

He was still my friend on Facebook. I knew he had two sons with the girl he gave his first kiss to. I wrote about him knowing he probably wouldn’t read it. That even if he did, he might not realize I was writing about him. That he probably doesn’t think of what he did to me as wrong.

Baby, we’ll be fine / All we gotta do is / Be brave and be kind.If I could see the words every day, I thought, if they were on my skin, maybe I could convince myself they were true.