Sunday, November 1, 2015
Take Back the Night- Extra Blog Post
This past Thursday I attended Take Back the Night for my third year in a row and each time it leaves me in tears. However, before I go into this years experience with the walk I would like to express my thoughts on the conversation I had with my boyfriend prior to going. Now, he had never heard of this event, so when I told him about it he had nothing of real substance to say about it. But I told him about it and even asked if he wanted to come and he bluntly said, "No." I proceeded to tell him that I wasn't forcing him to come but I was genuinely interested in why he did not want to come. He said he wasn't interested in the topic and it didn't have a life altering affect on me but I thought internally because this isn't a problem straight males are faced with day in and day out, outside of the prison system. But I attended the walk and then the open mic portion per usual, and per usual I cried violently and silently as I listened to each victim tell the various accounts of their attacks. For the past few years I have seen complete strangers and friends, along with a sorority sister tell their story and each time a piece of soul ached for me to tell my story since I have literally told no one, and have no clue as to why I'm choosing to do this now. Maybe it's time, since this is my last year in this safe space of Loyola. I don't really know where to begin....I only have two real memories, I think I've tried to block it out but I was in 3rd grade, eight to be exact. He was in 6th grade and one of my mother's coworkers kids with whom I would spend after school with in the Principal's conference room doing homework and eating snacks. His name is Stanton Boone. And to this day I hate him.
See my mom was a principal's secretary at the middle school, and so with us being a tight nit school district for those who had children and family members within it I would just ride the bus to my mom's school.
But the first memory I have of this violation was when I was napping under the conference table and he came in and started tickling me. Being a kid I thought nothing of it until he started raising my shirt up....I remember feeling a weird and uncomfortable sensation and then another one of our friends walking in and Stanton freezing then inviting him over to tickle me too. I can't recall his name but I distinctly remember the kid, I think his name was Ricardo asking me if I was ok....but I can't remember nodding yes or shaking my head no....The second memory is when we were in the conference room and Stanton started awkwardly kissing me....then its a flash to him exposing his penis and asking me to suck it....I distinctly remember saying saying "No" and ending up in the bathroom just staring at myself in the mirror. I don't really know how this "thing" stopped and I'm glad it hasn't really affected me in my ability to be vulnerable and to show love in my relationships.
The only time I really think about it is during this time of Take Back the Night. I can't put my finger on why I've never told anyone about it... I think it has to do with the shame of being a statistic or being tainted in someway...I'm not sure. But I am glad I got this off my chest.
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