I didn’t report my rape because I didn’t say no and I thought that made it my fault. I thought no one would believe that I said no with my body when I froze and couldn’t speak. I also didn’t think people would believe I let me boyfriend of over a year rape me because “rape doesn’t happen in relationships”, right?
When I was a full time student at the University of Durban Westville I had a gap in my time table that allowed me to have a nice long swim once a week. The walk from the swimming pool back to main campus was a lot of uphill so I would often just stay in… Read More ›
I am a rape survivor. I reported it the first time went to court and the accused was released due to a lack of evidence.
I was on a camping trip with friends and sharing a tent with my boyfriend. I said no, he ignored me.
When it comes to being a victim, I am a rapist’s delight.
Because I don’t believe sending someone to prison is going to help me heal.
I didn’t report my rape because I don’t know if it happened.
I didn’t and still haven’t reported my rape, and never will.
I didn’t report my rape, because to this day – almost seven years later – I still flip-flop between whether or not it was actually “rape”. It’s funny, if it had happened to anybody else, I probably would say that it was a rape. But because it’s me, well… Anybody who knows me knows that I blame myself for everything. And that night I knew what I was doing, up until a point – I thought I had control of the situation, until I clearly didn’t.
I was raped at four years old by an “uncle”.
X is my cousins best friend. We got together at my cousins 21st many years ago, and dated for about a year. I called it off, for a variety of reasons, the most important being that I knew he wasn’t someone I wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I knew that he felt differently.
I have never told a soul, except for my GP who I saw the next day for HIV tests etc
Struck a cord. Difference is I did report. I walked into the police station after being beaten blue, nose swollen, blood all over my shirt from my nose, shorts in tatters from being ripped with a knife, one eye blue and swollen closed. And I was victimised by the police.
I had incredibly low self esteem as a child and teenager, my family had moved around a lot and I always felt like an outsider. I had had one very brief, naive relationship, and wasn’t really sure how to go about dating, but I was very lonely, and desperate for someone to take an interest in me in the hopes it would somehow validate my existence. A 19 year old who worked as a waiter where I also worked seemed to take an interest in me.
That’s the last bit I remember. A few hours later I woke up in his arms. He was asleep. I was fully dressed, thank God. However, I kept wondering what he had been doing to me while I was asleep. I wanted to throw up. I really hated the guy, and no matter how drunk, I could not imagine getting in this situation willingly.