I am writing this entry, but this story has been mostly dictated to me by my wife. She's been watching the Kavanaugh coverage as closely as anyone, and like many, she hopes that telling her story will help someone else.
The first time my wife was assaulted, she was 7. Her parents were recently divorced and she lived with her mother. Her assailant was her "step-father." She moved a lot as a young child. She doesn't remember the name of the school she went to in Kindergarten, or her first grade teacher, but she does remember *every* second of every time she was assaulted. Over the course of a year, her mother's boyfriend assaulted her five times. I'll spare you the details, but it started off "mild" if you want to call it that, and gradually escalated. The final time he assaulted her, he went too far and she began to cry. First, he got mad. He told her, "You never told me to stop. I thought this is what you wanted." Even at 8 years old, my wife was being conditioned to think that she wasn't a victim, that it was somehow her fault because she didn't ask him not to. Then he cried. He told her that he loved her and would never do anything to hurt her. Then he got mad again, and told her that if she ever told anyone he would take her mother away from her. So she didn't tell anyone for a long time. When she was in 6th grade, she finally found someone that she was comfortable confiding in: her pastor. This pastor looked into her 11-12 year old face and told her that she was going to hell because she lost her virginity before marriage. She's not real interested in going to church even to this day -- wonder why?
Without going into too many details, I met my wife sometime between the end of elementary school and the middle of high school. After we had been friends (and dated) for around a year, she confided in me that she was assaulted as a child. It's been a long time since the day she told me, but it's a day that I'll never forget. By this point, her assailant was long out of the picture; her mother had eventually realized that he was a slime-ball and moved on. I've never met him, which is probably for the best; I would likely be sitting in a jail somewhere rather than writing this blog post.
Again, being purposefully vague: we had an amicable split-up somewhere around the end of high school and rekindled our friendship (and relationship) sometime in college. She was not a partier, but she had friends that were. On one occasion shortly before we found each other again, she went with a friend to a party at a local college. Someone slipped something into her drink and she was assaulted again that night. She remembers bits and pieces of it, but she has absolutely no idea who her attacker was. This time, she didn't report because her memory was fuzzy, she was drinking underage, and she didn't think she could definitively ID anyone, anyway.
My wife was struck, because in many cases, her life experiences have left her in much the same position as Dr. Ford. We don't have two front doors, but she is extremely claustrophobic, and when we were shopping for our house we had to find one with an open-floorplan and without any narrow hallways. She is also very successful in her chosen field, and while she doesn't let her experiences define her, she does deal with some social anxiety (mostly around men) and mild-depression problems to this day.
Dr. Ford's testimony caused her the same feelings that it caused many survivors: she's spent the last two days remembering. She doesn't regret watching, but she feels the same profound sadness that I do that many of the men in those hearings couldn't give a shit less about Dr. Ford's story. She also made the comment to me that Kavanaugh's outburst in his opening statement reminded her almost *exactly* of her first assaulter. Less than 5 minutes into his comments, I got a text from her that simply read, "He's guilty. Watch the anger, and wait for the tears." Sure enough, she was right. The uncontrollable sobs started, but I'm not sure I ever saw any tears.
My wife knows that her story isn't unique; unfortunately, it's one that is told far too often. She is furious at all of the "If it happened, why didn't she say anything?" coverage that's all over social media. Aside from me, her pastor, and a couple close friends, my wife has never told anyone about her experiences. Her mother doesn't know to this day that a man she brought into her home spent the better part of a year assaulting her daughter. That's another reason she never reported; she knew it would break her mother's heart.
As a final message to survivors: we are so sorry for what you've been through. Just know, we believe you, we're here if you need to talk, and this assault does not define you.
Dr. Ford's testimony caused her the same feelings that it caused many survivors: she's spent the last two days remembering. She doesn't regret watching, but she feels the same profound sadness that I do that many of the men in those hearings couldn't give a shit less about Dr. Ford's story. She also made the comment to me that Kavanaugh's outburst in his opening statement reminded her almost *exactly* of her first assaulter. Less than 5 minutes into his comments, I got a text from her that simply read, "He's guilty. Watch the anger, and wait for the tears." Sure enough, she was right. The uncontrollable sobs started, but I'm not sure I ever saw any tears.
My wife knows that her story isn't unique; unfortunately, it's one that is told far too often. She is furious at all of the "If it happened, why didn't she say anything?" coverage that's all over social media. Aside from me, her pastor, and a couple close friends, my wife has never told anyone about her experiences. Her mother doesn't know to this day that a man she brought into her home spent the better part of a year assaulting her daughter. That's another reason she never reported; she knew it would break her mother's heart.
As a final message to survivors: we are so sorry for what you've been through. Just know, we believe you, we're here if you need to talk, and this assault does not define you.