The Man Who Raped Me

By Abdulkadir Rafiat

Dear Individual,

It’s been over eleven years since you raped me, yet it often feels as if no time has passed at all. The memory of the weight of your body pinning mine down, the scent of your sickening sweet cologne, the rough sensation of your unshaven face rubbing my cheeks and neck raw as you slammed your hips into me…these are things I cannot forget.

You see, when you raped me, you didn’t just violate me, you stole something I was not yet ready to give freely. You didn’t just take away my innocence, you forced your depravity on me, then accused me of being a poor lover because I was not “into it”. You laughed in my face when I told you to stop while pushing you away, and insisted that you knew I wanted you because I had “flirted” with you just hours before (newsflash: not every woman that looks your way is flirting with you, and if she were in fact flirting, that does not equal an open door to the most intimate part of her body). At the time, I was trying so hard to get away from you, not many words came to mind.

Now, many words do.

For so long I denied myself the chance to feel anything about what you did, because I thought doing so would be admitting I had been “weak” enough to be a victim of rape.

I realize now, you were the weak one.

You were the one so driven by your twisted desire, that you forcefully took something that was not being offered to you. You were the one who physically assaulted someone of smaller stature because you knew you could overpower me. You were the one who waited until I was alone and vulnerable. That was weakness.

I was the one who said no. I was the one who fought back. I was the one who got up off of the floor when you walked away, and determined to not let you see me affected by what you had just done. That was strength.

I’m not sure where you are now. I don’t know if you have changed for the better, if you have a family, or if you’re even alive.

If any of those things are accurate, I hope it is that you are alive.

I hope every single day that passes, you are reminded of what you did, and you feel sick to your stomach. I hope you are tormented by your violent actions that night, and that torment has driven you to be more humane. I hope if you do have a family, that your heart aches with grief, and it moves you to touch your partner with even more tenderness than you think you are capable of having. Above all, I hope you never forget what you did to me. I have not forgotten it, and I never will.

I will, however, forget you.

I am leaving you with the last words of this letter, and I am never looking back.

But before I do that, I have one more thing to say:

I have read many stories of victims of rape who thank their perpetrator for violating them, because it has helped them “become stronger”. While that may be healing for them, please know that is not the case for me. I am not, nor will I EVER, be thankful for what you did to me.

I am disgusted by the deplorable acts you committed against me. I am revolted at the memories you left me with. I am scarred for life, in more ways than one, by what you did.

But I am alive.

You may have wounded my body, but you did not break my spirit. You may have stolen my innocence, but you did not take away my freedom to choose who I share intimate moments with.

I choose to believe not all men are like you.

I choose to finally move on.

No longer will you hold any power over me…I’m leaving you here.