Tag Archives: #MeToo

Safety

I knew safety was the first step towards healing after trauma. But I had thought that simply meant pushing my assailants out of my life and locking the door behind them. Done. I hadn’t understood that was only the beginning of the beginning. Safety is not achieved by the absence of the perpetrator. Safety isContinue reading “Safety”

The Stations of the Cross

Nothing, other than chronic illness, has acquainted me more intimately with death than trauma. Through the violence that one body can do to another, trauma demonstrated my fragility, my transience, my mortality. It showed me, too vividly, that my bodily autonomy, and even my life, could end at any moment if a man decided toContinue reading “The Stations of the Cross”

After He Strangled Me

The next morning I went downstairs to breakfast in the dining hall as usual, but it wasn’t usual. I sat beside my brother, poking my spoon into the cereal I’d let go soggy, and I avoided looking up from my bowl. My hands were shaking. My pulse throbbed in my throat. I had done everythingContinue reading “After He Strangled Me”

The Ninth Assault

Webbstock is a tradition at Webb Institute going back to 1979. All about booze and bands, it runs from daybreak until long after sundown the first weekend in June. Students, alumni, their families, and close friends are all welcome to attend. There’s an all-day barbecue along with adult bouncy castles, inflatable slides, and other carnival-flavoredContinue reading “The Ninth Assault”

In the Aftermath

Jonathan’s assault was among the least violent of the assaults I’ve survived. In fact, to some people, it isn’t an assault at all. But its effects have been every bit as long-lasting and devastating as the rest of the abuse. *             *             * It wasn’t what he did. It was who he was. He wasContinue reading “In the Aftermath”

The Eighth Assault

You think you know someone. You let your guard down because you tell yourself they wouldn’t. They couldn’t possibly. They’re practically family. Maybe they’re shitty to other people sometimes, other women. But not to you. Never you. *             *             * I’d known Jonathan since he was in junior high. He had come home with myContinue reading “The Eighth Assault”

Predatory Men

Some of my friends—women of color, white women, cis women, LGBTQ+—regard their single years as a time of liberation and friendship and fun. And I am always happy to hear that. I am grateful that they had such a joyous opportunity to come fully into themselves and their lives. And I certainly remember my singlehoodContinue reading “Predatory Men”

Healing Through Dance

Because trauma is of the body, it must be healed through the body. I needed a safe space where I would be supported, where I could practice trust, where I could begin healing in my body. Only one place could offer me that. The dance studio. *             *             * I was 30 years old. IContinue reading “Healing Through Dance”

Breaking Away

It took me two years. Healing from abuse, finding the confidence to believe that you are capable of leaving—it takes a long time. It also takes seeing the other life that is possible. *             *             * The spring I was 30, I began to make friends with a coworker of mine at the college. WeContinue reading “Breaking Away”

My Breakdown in a Bus Depot

And then I went to New York. If you have been asleep, New York will slap you out of it. I boarded the Q47 bus and watched the sunrise from the bus window, mentally reviewing Manhattan’s grid of streets and the carefully plotted route that would take me to the Hotel Chelsea for a nightContinue reading “My Breakdown in a Bus Depot”