I was raped 16 years ago...and I just found out.
- Hadassah Arkeo
- Feb 15, 2020
- 9 min read
Updated: Feb 17, 2020
Raped...it's not a category I ever wanted to be in. A question you may be asking yourself is, "How did she not know for sixteen years?" Its a question that I have asked myself many times since I realized what happened to me. To answer your question....vaguely... it is complicated. A lot of it has to do with how society, myself included, view rape. Many times rape is portrayed in movies, TV, and books with the woman fighting or being incapacitated. Both are terrible and egregious. My experience was not like either of those.
My experience was foggy. Not in the sense that I was under the influence of any drugs or alcohol (can I just say, if you were under the influence and a man decided he had the right to your body...you were raped. I am so sorry that you went through that. You are not alone.) My experience was foggy because I blocked it out for so long.
Below is a quote from the article that made what happened to me real...
"Consent is an explicit agreement. It should be given enthusiastically and without reservation.
If you’re being threatened in any way, you can’t give consent. Being threatened with force, manipulation, or coercion means any “yes” is involuntary.
Sexual contact that happens after a coerced yes is sexual assault or rape."
I was in a verbally abusive relationship at the time. Everything I did was viewed through his eyes as lesser. In my mind, I couldn't do enough to ever please him, I just had to keep trying. Some of the things he said on a regular basis were that I wasn't smart (he constantly said decisions I made were stupid or things I said were dumb). He said I wasn't beautiful (I was just okay looking). He controlled every conversation we had and everything that we did together. One of the things that he said that still sticks with me to this day was that if a guy wanted to have sex with me that my body was okay but that they should put a brown paper bag over my face (because it was so ugly). This ladies and gentleman was the guy I chose to be with and felt that there was no escape because I loved him, I could fix him. It wouldn't always be like this, I thought. Every time I did escape it was brief because he always pulled me right back in. I say all this to say, that when I was with him, my mind was twisted. He twisted everything I knew to be true about myself. I believed everything he said...because it was drilled into me that what he said was law.
He constantly broke boundaries and this day was no different.
Warning: The next section describes an experience of rape. If you do not desire to read this or you yourself experienced sexual assault know that this could be triggering. Please skip or scroll down past the picture below to continue reading.
I can't remember everything that was said, I don't remember what day of the week it was or what the weather was like outside. I only vaguely remember what I wearing that day much less what he was wearing. I don't remember why we were where we were. What I do remember is how I felt. I remember what I said in my mind and the general things that were said that led up to that moment. I remember that we had been kissing and I felt the guilt of previously having slept with him and wishing I could take it back. I didn't want to "sleep" with him again. He tricked me last time. I was supposed to be his first, but he lied. He said he loved me and wanted to marry me but since then had shown that he neither loved me nor had a desire to marry me. I didn't want this make-out session to lead where he wanted it to. My previous experience with him had been nothing that I had expected or wanted for my first sexual experience and today that didn't change. I was ready to get out of that place and had briefly considered what it would be like if I broke up with him...how long until he pulled me back in? What things would he say or do if I did? Could I really be free? No, I was stuck. I had already screwed up. I loved him right. I mean, this is what love was, wasn't it? His nagging had pulled me from my thoughts. He was trying to convince me that we should have sex. I told him repeatedly that I didn't want to, I wasn't in the mood. My body was telling me that I had absolutely no desire to have sex...especially with him. I don't remember how much time went by with his constant nagging...was it ten minutes...thirty minutes...it felt like forever...he said the normal things to get me to break boundaries...you know you want to, don't you want to be bad girl, I thought you loved me...so many other things...I remember feeling completely defeated. I just wanted him to stop. I just wanted him to leave me alone.
I knew what would happen if I continued to say no. He would eventually get bored with me and cheat...again. He would lambaste me with insults and remind me of just how stupid, prude (as if that is a bad thing) and ugly I was. He would stop loving me. I knew I wasn't bad girl enough for him. I feared that if I didn't consent soon...he might take what he wanted anyway. Wasn't it better for me to just get it over with?
He kept on....becoming increasingly agitated with me as I continued to say no....and then I said fine. It's like he knew that I might change my mind and quickly went about poking and prodding. I was in pain. It hurt. I was begging him to stop...in my mind. I was crying...in my heart. I laid there wishing it would end. Wishing I could be anywhere else. Feeling like a piece of me was dying. The assault and my anguish continued for a few minutes more. Not once did he look me in the eye. He got angry at me for not participating. He got angry because he couldn't finish. My body had continued to say no even when I couldn't speak....even though I froze. He got up, dressed and ordered me to get my pants on and get in the car. We were leaving.
It was over. I remember thinking as we left...okay...that wasn't actually sex...he didn't finish. It was just a bad experience and I don't need to think about it anymore.
I didn't willingly think about it after that. More abuse would follow by another man shortly after and that consumed my mind for years. The "other thing" as I referred to it was just that...a thing that happened. I had been through worse so that was no big deal. Except that it was. It was rape.
Fast forward sixteen years as I am learning about what real consent actually consists of at a conference designed to help churches, help sexual abuse victims...as I listened to the definition of consent I thought...
"Wait, was I raped? No. It can't be true. How could I not know? Why, wha...why can't remember everything? Shouldn't I remember everything?" Images of that day came crashing into my thoughts as I fought off a panic attack. No, I couldn't and wouldn't admit that I was in that category of sexual assault. I had finally been able to make strides in my healing with the sexual abuse from the other time...this couldn't be real...except that it was.
As I returned home from the conference, another crisis brought my focus to the present and I struggled to get through that...I did not have the time nor the desire to deal with the realization that I could have been raped. I couldn't even say the word out loud...still can't. Trying to not have a panic attack right now because I have typed it more time in the last hour than I have been willing to even say in my own mind the past sixteen years or even the last few months.
When the crisis of present-day settled some...the questions in my mind returned. Mostly because I had forced myself to take my daughter to an appointment that was literally three doors down from where I had been raped. I thought I could handle it. I almost threw up in the waiting room. My body was remembering the trauma and my mind had zero control over it. The realization was becoming too real.
That night I looked up the definition of consent again...
Consent is a voluntary, enthusiastic, and clear agreement between the participants to engage in specific sexual activity. Period.
The next morning I called Rainn. (800.656.HOPE (4673)
I had a conversation with one of their victim advocates confirming for me what I had always known. I was a victim of sexual assault. I had been raped.
My own husband had tried his best to convince me fifteen years ago when we had only been dating a short time. I had briefly mentioned that previous encounter to him brushing it off as no big deal. When I told him, I watched as his face and knuckles turned white.
"Babe, you were raped!"
He said gently realizing I had no idea what I had experienced.
"No, no, no." I said and quickly tried my best to convince him otherwise.
He gently tried to tell me again but knew there was no convincing me. He tried to bring it up with me a few times over the years and I shut him down every time. "No." I said...time and time again. When I came to him that night, not long ago, sobbing...I told him that he had been right all along. He didn't say I told you so. He simply said that he knew, that he believed me, he loved me and held me while I sobbed.
I spent most of the time the next few days and weeks trying to fight off depression, flashbacks, panic attacks, reliving that moment over and over. As I fought restless long nights and even worse nightmares, Jesus was with me. His Spirit ever-present as I came to accept the truth of what had happened. As I wrestled once again with sleep, begging Jesus to help me rest, His Spirit and His words blossomed in my heart and mind.
Keep your gaze on Jesus.
A few days later after the peace and instruction from my sweet Jesus, I attended a ladies retreat at our church. The worship team had chosen the song, Another in the Fire, by Hillsong United, to sing as part of our worship time.
As I listened to the lyrics the words washed over me.
Where I used to be and this reckoning
I know I will never be alone
There was another in the fire
Standing next to me
There was another in the waters
Holding back the sea
As the music played, images began to flood my mind. It was the rape...but this time...I didn't panic...I didn't relive it. This time as I looked on at my abuser, and he was focused on what he was doing, out of the corner of my eye I saw Jesus gazing at me. Not in disgust. Not in shame. His eyes were on my face and his hand was in mine. His eyes were filled with tears and love as I endured the pain and the abuse. He knew my thoughts. He knew what I wanted to do, fight, and what my body, mind, and heart wouldn't allow me to do. He knew I was protecting myself the only way I knew how. I froze. I endured. He was with me through it all. His word never promises a life free from hurt or pain, in fact, he gives us much instruction on what to do in suffering. My entire Christian life, I have known that truth that Jesus is always with me but it is hard picturing him in the moments of our deepest darkest pain. Yet...there he was and there he is still.
He was with me when I was: He makes me:
degraded....................................................DIGNIFIED
afraid.........................................................BRAVE
unseen.......................................................SEEN
in pain.......................................................WHOLE
alone.........................................................BELONG
weak.........................................................STRONG
abused......................................................CHERISHED
He was with me in the fire. He was with me when I was raped and he has been with me every second of my life.
As I come to the end of my story of sexual assault and the aftermath that followed, you may be wondering why I shared this at all. It is ugly and very personal. I shared for her and for him. The ones who have been through what I have been through. For anyone who has ever felt alone.
You are not alone...because there was another in the fire...and that someone is Jesus.
I ask that if you have known me a long time and have even an inkling of who my abuser was that you not reach out to him. Though some people in my life disagree, I do not think he realizes what he did. He was, though a young adult, very naive in the definition of consent, as was I. Even though he was verbally abusive at the time I hope he has grown as a person and would be saddened if he realized what he did. As for me, I have no desire for him to be punished for what he did. Not because I don't believe in justice, but that I am trusting God to handle justice and not people. My desire in sharing my story is that one person can come to Jesus for healing...if God sees fit to heal more because of what I have learned through the truth of His word and who He is then that makes this worth it all the more.
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