< Translator’s note: The original formatting of the stories has been preserved. The translations aim to remain as close as possible to each author's original wording and expression.
I’ve been following this initiative for some time, but just this year have found the strength to share my experience. Anytime I would hear stories about violence, I imagined that it was so horrible that it was impossible to survive. And then I realized that that had happened to me too… and not just once or twice. It was just a system in which I was like a blind kitten and couldn’t see anything. Now I can clearly understand that every boyfriend I have had was trying to bend me to do things I didn’t want.
Violence has always seemed so horrific and distant. And it is horrific, however, not as far as I thought. I don’t know literally any girl who wouldn’t have lived through some kind of violence.
For the first time, I faced it when I was 16. My “boyfriend” invited me to his birthday party. When I came, there wasn’t anyone else, except me… But I was very naive and still stayed. Then, he tried to make me drunk and harassed me all night. And gave obvious pushback, but he didn’t care 👍 Around morning, he noticed cuts on my hand and started apologizing for his behavior. The cuts saved me from being raped. After, I went home and told nobody, because I believed I was the one to blame. Why did I go to his house? Why didn’t I leave when I realized that it’s only the two of us? Why was I so stupid?
Next, I entered uni, and my first sex happened. But I can’t remember most of it. Why? Because I was fucking sleeping. I really liked that boy, and I was obviously not against having sex with him. Why he chose to rape me, I don't understand. As previously, I didn’t realize it was rape at first. Because I seemingly gave consent… However, it was a week prior… Well, maybe it was still relevant 🤡 I think that boy still doesn’t get it, that it was rape, and thinks that everything is ok. Generally, that guy was very “cool”, because with him I did so many things I didn’t want, he literally persuaded me and got offended.
Next, my “friend” tried to rape me, and when, with words through my mouth, I said that I didn’t want to, he said this, “I know that you do want this, you even got wet.” In fact, he tried to have sex without my consent several times. Next time, he said, “my last name, you’re just frigid.” And I kept talking to him. Why? Because I thought that it was normal. Even though he never succeeded, I thought I had to push back stronger, and then he would understand.
I also have a story when my acquaintance came to my place drunk, we visited each other often, and ate pizza together, so that wasn’t out of the ordinary. Next, he started harassing me and said that he knew of my bad reputation but still wanted to have sex with me regardless. Cool, right? It was so noble of him! And do you know why I was guilty of this myself? Correct, because I let him inside my home. I could tell him to go, right?
Do you remember the story where I was raped while asleep? Here’s another one! Another friend did the same thing to me. I realized that sex was happening after a while. I WOKE UP during it… Can a person give consent when they are sleeping? It’s a rhetorical question. Also, I’m very interested in how one has sex with someone who is not even fucking moving. What the fuck? It says a lot about how men see women’s bodies. But I felt an aversion not to that person, but to myself 🤡 And I was ashamed for so long, as if I was to blame that I let that happen. I wasn’t supposed to be there and should have slept at home… Also, I drank alcohol that evening… Maybe it would have happened if I hadn’t drunk?
Afterwards, I continued talking to this guy. One time, I even kicked him out of my room, because he was trying to kiss me and stopped only when I put him behind the door. And guess what? I, again, decided that I was to blame 🤡 Generally, only in two years later that I realized that it was rape and not just an embarrassing sex story 🤡 I’m still embarrassed, even though I know for a fact that there’s no fault of my own there. But he is not ashamed in the slightest: he told the story about the sex with me to all his friends literally the next day. How do I know? They approached me and asked if it was true.
Also, once, one guy was very hurt that I refused to sleep with him and started telling everyone who would listen that I gave him a hand job and then ran away. I was, once again, very embarrassed because I didn’t even like him and didn’t want anyone to know that we had something going. But he did everything in his power to tell everyone around us. Why am I to blame? Because I didn’t need to talk to him.
I described only some of the stories, and I have a feeling that there’s something wrong with me because my life has had so many such stories. I, yet again, search for the problem in myself.
Of course, I understand that it isn’t my fault. But to understand doesn’t mean to believe it.
At first, I wanted to tell just one story. But while writing all that, I recalled a lot of things I don’t want to remember.
Why did I start hating men? It’s a rhetorical question.
Anonymous author; story shared in 2022 as part of the campaign “16 Days of Activism Against Gender-Based Violence.”