For my April 2022 blog, I want to write a vulnerable piece in honor of sexual assault awareness month. Trigger warning; I will be talking about sexual assault experiences (SA) and related content.

One of the hardest things that I have noticed within the field of sex education, sexual assault prevention, and risks factors that LGBTQA+ people face is that the experience of SA is hardly ever talked about. In my experience, I have gone through 5 counts of sexual assault from the ages of 19 to 23—the ages where I first learned and engaged in sexual activities with people of the same sex. My very first time engaging in such sexual activities was sexual assault. It took me years to learn that my first encounter was SA, that it was not ok. At that time, I didn’t know how to communicate what type of sex I wanted; I was forced as a bottom, I didn’t know that I needed to say yes with enthusiasm, and I wasn’t even sure how to take the lead. My experience led me to know the hard meaning of consent and the meaning of finding my voice in my sexuality. However, I had to overcome counts of rape, and SA, while also overcoming the shame and stigma I grew up with for being queer. As a 19-year-old queer kid, I didn’t know that sex for someone like me wasn’t supposed to be so violent. I never learned what same sexual encounters were expert for what a partner did or told me.

I remember my first SA because it was my first sexual experience, I also had 4 more encounters with 3 more people. Out of the 5 counts, three of them were people I was supposed to be in a relationship with, and one was a friend who had too much to drink. Each story has its truth to it and its scenario. I have found that the details of those stories are less important to me the more I grow and heal from those memories. Healing has become a moment of silence as well. Friends hear me say, “I don’t like to be touched by people I don’t know,” and they know I don’t like to be left alone in a bar by myself or even be around many gay men at once. None of them have ever known why. They never knew what I had to heal from. These actions of making sure someone I felt protected by was with me were my tool to help me feel safe and in control. However, the healing process is beyond mere awareness; it’s taking power back for my own sense of sexuality and well-being.

How did I take my power back? I remember screaming alone, on the shower floor, feeling my energy being drawn from depths where I stored it. It had been buried under the delusions that I let myself believe. Delusions of memories that I let define me. It was a partner, at the time when I was 21, that I remember who asked me and told me that it was ok if I wanted to stop engaging in sex; I remember crying because he was the first man that made me feel safe and powerful in my sexuality. I could say no, and it wouldn’t be an issue. I could be loved even though I didn’t want to engage in such actions. That was the start of my voice, my direction, my movement to loving who I am. A simple understanding that I can say no and be safe.

The scars that I carry from the harm caused by others are invisible. I learned to love myself through overcoming hard nights of shame and anger. My supportive friends allowed me to open up and share my pain without fear of judgment. The healing can take a lifetime, but it comes with learning that I have power in who I am. Many don’t know that I have lived such stories, but if anything, I want queer people to know you are never alone if this has happened to you. You can heal, others do not define you, and you are loved beyond the scars that may affect your relationships with others and yourself.

In honor of SA awareness month, please know that many of us who have these stories bear them in silence, in our comfort, or in shame.  I don’t want the pity of attention rather, I want everyone to understand and recognize that internal power results when we reclaim what someone took. We also may not know how to talk about such pain with ease. Believe the stories, help people heal, enforce consent, teach how to communicate about sex, and be shame-free and nonjudgmental in your listening. I hope anyone who finds this message knows finding your power is an understanding of finding your peace. 

National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673ho