What do I become after an assault on my being?

Recently someone who raped me came up as a suggested connection on my LinkedIn profile and I was very upset by that. But the anger/annoyance/whatever-that-feeling-was-that-I’ve-been-avoiding-all-my-(post rape)-life was quickly replaced by confusion.

Am I a victim? 

As far as I [was] concerned, I was a victim during the rape. Right? Aren’t we all victims of a crime for the duration of said crime, and after that we go back to being who we [are] because the crime is over and we shouldn’t hold onto to it as though the crime inflicted upon us is the end of life as we know it. Isn’t that how it happens?

Shouldn’t I become a survivor now?

To come back (from hell) stronger. To be like society (all of you), unbothered by what has happened – move and get over it. To tell myself everyday that shit happens and not wonder about how I might have been different had that man not fucked me against my will? I mean, other things could’ve happened to create the person I am today, right? Why should I be holding on to some rape situation like that’s the defining moment of my life?

I don’t identify with either of these labels. I don’t. 

I didn’t lose to a rapist because for that moment all my autonomy was gone, my humanity disregarded, my existence nothing but a tool. I didn’t lose, I’m not a loser and he has not defeated me.

And I sure as hell am not moving on like it’s something to simply just “get over”. 


It’s okay to be hurt and traumatised and angry and not let it go.

I’ll never not be angry, and sad. I refuse to feel weak even though that’s what happened – I was weak, I couldn’t protect myself. 


Maybe someone else feels like this and we can make it normal to be neither victim nor survivor. To be angry black women who want to #KillAllMen.


He opened his hand and he touched me on my face. On the same place he used to touch when he said I was beautiful. He touched me on my face on the very same cheeks his used to kiss and he hit me. Three times.

Three times across my face he wiped away his gentle touch, he hit me. I didn’t feel it. I couldn’t feel it. I was numb. I had an out of body experience when he did that I didn’t feel it he hit somebody else. I cam to tell him that now, finally, now that we both knew that we’d both been bad I could talk to him, like normal people. I could finally talk to him and he didn’t want to listen? WHY WON’T HE LISTEN WHY WON’T HE LISTEN I CAN FINALLY TALK TO HIM HE WILL LISTEN, TO ME.

Like normal people.

I can talk to him now.

He used to touch me everywhere. On my forehead, on my cheeks, on the backs of my neck and my knees. He used to poke and squeeze the bulges on my belly, and he told me that I deserved to be loved all over by any one who wanted to feel me. He taught me that I am beautiful, and wrote it everywhere he touched me but then he folded that same hand and shut my eye with a blue & black manifestation of his hatred. I didn’t feel it. I saw him hit someone but it wasn’t me. He was angry at the world and I was his world but it wasn’t me who’s face his fist landed on. He didn’t.

He did, and I healed but he’d shut my eye so I was to never see him again.