#MeToo

A Hindu student recounts their experience.

Trigger Warning: Sexual Violence, Self Harm, Suicide

Sexual Assault Helpline: RAINN.org

Suicide Helpline: National Suicide Prevention Lifeline

Mental Health Resources: @mentalhealthamerica, @realdepressionproject, @healingfromptsd

—

I don't know when this all truly began. I suppose it was during Christine Blasey Ford's testimony in front of Congress. She had testified that Brett Kavanaugh had attempted to rape her during their high school years. Like millions of Americans who watched, I was one of them.

I watched as she recounted the incident, discussing the gaps in her memory and the trauma that she had been through. In spite of it, she was sure that face from 36 years ago was Kavanaugh's. I watched as the sitting U.S President mocked her openly without consequence "How did you get home? I don't remember. How'd you get there? I don't remember. Where is the place? I don't remember. How many years ago was it? I don't know." He chanted, as the crowd laughed and cheered him on. Like millions of Americans, I sat there through the ordeal feeling sick and disgusted.

But that wasn't all.

Later that day, I walked to work. But this time, I felt weirdly different and ill. On my walk there, I suddenly felt this pang of anxiety that had hit me. I could hardly open the door, and my hands were shaking and sweaty the entire time. My heart was racing and felt like I was about to have a panic attack in the middle of the hallway. I don't know what I did, but I managed to curb the feeling and continue my day as if nothing had happened.

The next morning, I woke up and threw up everything I had eaten the day before. I could feel my entire body in complete panic and this time, I did not know how to stop the feelings from continuing. I wasn't sure why I was reacting the way I did, but I knew something had changed in me after I watched the testimony.

What was it that had changed?

It was just the start of my realization that I could relate to what Christine Blasey Ford had been through.

Further Reading: Why Women Can Take Years to Come Forward With Sexual Assault Allegations

—

It happened when I was 15 years old. Growing up, I was always well respected and popular. I seemed to be the kind of girl that everyone aspired to be: pretty, confident, self-assured, never got anything less than an A in class, Bharatanatyam dancer, Carnatic music singer, and above all, a person who did not have trouble with anyone. I grew up in a Hindu American neighborhood and was heavily involved in our local temple. I was practically friends, or friendly, with everyone in my school grade.

It was a shock to me that when I turned 15, my dad decided to sell our house and move us across the country to the opposite coast. I was thousands of miles away from my best friends. I understood, since although I was happy with my school, my dad wasn't with his job. The summer of freshman year, we spent packing up my childhood home and moving to a place where we knew no one.

I was in for a rough shock when I arrived at my new school. Despite my confidence and optimism, I found the environment to be extremely hostile. Growing up around a large Indian American population, I had taken for granted seeing faces like mine; I found myself to be one of the very few Indians at my new school. I was immediately labeled as the strange new girl who no one wanted to talk to or befriend. I'm reminded of the scene from Mean Girls, where Lindsay Lohan eats alone by herself in the toilets because she had no friends. That girl was me.

I thought that this was perhaps just a rocky start, but it would eventually get better. Unfortunately, I was wrong. I desperately longed for a friend or any familiar face who cared to have a conversation that didn't talk about Instagram likes or make snarky comments about others. I struggled to find common ground with my classmates who seemed to be extremely superficial and shallow. I tried to join school clubs as a way of meeting people outside of my grade to be friends with. The school had a hiphop dance team, which I tried out for and got selected too. Nonetheless, my social life did not seem to get better. Even during practice, most students had already formed cliques and friend groups. I found it very hard to relate to anyone or feel a part of things.

This all changed a few months later. At one of the practices, I saw a guy sitting at the other end of the studio who kept glancing over at me. I had seen him around before and while I was a sophomore, he was a senior. Although he wasn't Indian, he did come from a Pakistani Muslim background. He came up to me at the end of practice and asked me "Are you trying out for nationals?" a very obvious way for him to start a conversation with me. He walked with me to the parking lot as I waited for my mom to pick me up and we actually had a nice conversation. For the first time, I felt slightly less alone at school. I came home to see that he had added me on all my social media handles.

He started to message me regularly after our first interaction. I was happy to have a friend at last. After meeting him, I no longer walked through the cafeteria worried about where to sit or who to go to because I knew that we were friends and I could hang out with him. I didn't worry about the looks or weird stares I'd get from my peers because I was just happy to have a friend that didn't bitch about others all the time. I got the impression that perhaps he could be flirting with me, but I wasn't sure. I was never the type of girl that all the guys would fawn over so I thought why would he? He just wants to be friends.

Of course, I was completely wrong. He began to send me good morning and good night texts, which I subtly ignored and pretended as if I didn't see them. Whenever we would hang out, he would only talk about going to the nationals dance competition, and how we would sleep in the same hotel room bed together. All of these were framed as petty "jokes" which I tried not to take seriously since I did not want to be picky with the only friend that I had.

A few weeks later, he confessed that he had feelings for me. He asked if there was ever a chance at us being together and I openly said I'm not sure since we’ve only known each other for a few weeks, so it's better to stay friends than get into a relationship and ruin things. Besides, I did not have feelings for him. I thought he took it decently but he started getting very crabby about being ‘friendzoned’ and said "Even though you said you friendzoned me now, we know that things can change in the future and I'm not going to stop trying or stop liking you." which although seemed innocent, it started to become clear that he didn't truly respect my decisions.

That night, he had gone out with his friends to a party where they'd been drinking. In the morning, I woke up to his drunk voice notes saying that I'm "leading him on only to reject him" and that I "shouldn't have sent false signals if I didn't feel the same way." People who had never spoken to me before started calling me a bitch for leading on guys. Only, none of this was true.

Worrying about all the rumors, I tried to convince myself that maybe there was something. I told him that it's too early to decide but I'd be willing to spending time with him to see where things go. During that period, he bought me flowers, chocolates, and gifts. He went out of his way to be nice to me, in an environment where I felt hated and excluded from everyone else. For that, I felt emotionally dependent and indebted to him. He also shared many personal details about his life; his past, how he had been bullied at his prior school, and the emotional toll that it had taken on him. I did whatever I could to be a good friend to him through his struggles.

Even though we were in a phase of getting to know each other, I still thought in the back of my mind that he was extremely intrusive to my personal space and clingy. He would always pester me about whether I was home alone or not, to see if he could pay a visit. Even though I made it very clear that I wasn't interested in any physical or sexual relationship with him, he would ask me a lot of personal questions about the subject. He kept asking how far I had gone with a guy before and how far I'd be willing to go. Although sometimes, his compliments were nice, other times I would feel disgusted listening to them; He once told me that he's desperate to kiss me that it's my fault because my good looks tempt him.

I thought most of these comments were empty and it would never escalate to anything physical. Even though he made those comments, he would also talk about how he'd wait until I was ready (with certainty that the day would come). Over break that year, my parents and siblings happened to be out one day so he invited himself over. I told him that he couldn't say for long and he didn't object, but he overstayed nonetheless. We spoke normally and everything seemed fine. A few minutes before he was supposed to leave, he grabbed me and pushed me into my bedroom. He then threw me onto the bed and climbed on top of me. It happened so fast that the voice screaming no in my head still feels like it's ringing to this day. He leaned in to kiss me but I moved my head away so he began to kiss my neck instead and started touching my breasts. His hands started to make their way down to my thighs and I could feel him tugging my pants down. I wanted to try to get away but his whole weight crushed me underneath and I couldn't breathe. My mind went completely blank after that and I struggle to remember what happened next. Eventually, he stopped and got off of me. He looked at my face, laughed, and said "Wow, why do you look so scared?"

Even though I was shaking and frightened after he left, I made up excuses as to why that behavior was somehow justified - after all, weren't we getting to know each other? At the back of my mind, I knew none of it was consensual.

A few days after this happened, he sent me a text saying that he doesn't care about me, he doesn't have any feelings for me anymore, and I don't matter at all to him. He said that even though he doesn't feel this way anymore, he'd still speak to me but just not hang out as much. When you're 15 and hear this come from someone who you emotionally depend on, it makes you feel completely distraught and shaken. I thought I lost the only person who could save me from the horrible environment at school.

I must admit that I struggled with my own insecurities at the time along with a history of mental health issues. I went through an extremely traumatic incident when I was younger that plundered my self esteem for a few years before things got better. To cope with the trauma, I had taken to self harm. I had stopped prior to this incident. Later that night, however, I slit my wrists and tried to bleed myself to death.

I went back to being the girl with no friends, except this time, everyone seemed to know the latest rumors about me while I pretended not to care or let it get to me. I hardly spoke to him after the incident and continued the next few weeks of school in the same way that it had begun: miserable and lonely. Even during practice, he would avoid eye contact with me and pretended as if I didn't exist.

Both of us were selected for nationals, but we still weren't talking. I was worried since we'd be staying in a hotel room near each other and I didn't actually have any friends to spend time with. To my surprise, a few girls with who I had not interacted much during practices began to be friendly to me. One of them offered to carpool so we did, and we spent our car journey sharing stories, bonding, and laughing.

One of the girls began to ask me questions about him - "Were you guys together or something?" - to which I explained the story with very few details and made it clear that I did not have anything bad to say about him. She looked confused for a moment and then replied "But this is quite different to what he's been saying," so naturally, I asked what had been going around. She began to tell me about how he had told people that the only reason he was trying to be with me was to have sex, and when I told him I didn't want to have sex, he wanted to punch me in the face and other violent things about me. He had threatened to break into my house and hurt me. He said I was boring and that I led people on and gave him the wrong signals. He basically said that I meant nothing except someone he tried to use for sex, but failed.

Up until this point, I had always felt heartbroken by what was happening but this time I felt the raw anger, betrayal, and a complete breach of trust. Once I got to the hotel room, I sat alone in the bathrooms and cried it out. I decided to put an end to all of this once and for all and proceeded to remove him from all of my social media. I threw it all out of my mind and spent time with my new friends, practically ignoring his existence.

Our team didn't win nationals but we certainly did get invited to all the parties from that week. Boys from different high schools began to approach me and try to get my number. A drunk dancer from another high school confessed on stage "That Indian girl is pretty cute" (referring to me) but I didn't feel the need to hook up with anyone. I suppose me getting attention from other guys spooked him enough for him to come up to me and say "You do realize the only reason he's saying this is because he feels sorry for you, right?"

A night later, I went to take a shower before sleeping. While I was showering, I heard knocks on the hotel room door. I thought it would be room service or housekeeping so I ignored them. The knocking continued and I started to panic. I then heard a loud voice shout "If you don't open the door right now, I won't hesitate to break in." and the knocking proceeded to get louder and louder as the whole room shook. It was him.

I quickly managed to get dressed before he broke the door down. I opened the door to get the noise to stop which was when he began to scream at me. He started screaming about how I'm supposed to be "Better than that to believe those rumors" and that he never said all of those things about me. I lost my temper and we both started screaming at each other until the hotel authorities and security came to get him to go away.

The little friendships that I had built up were very quick to crumble. He began to spread rumors about me, making up stories that never happened and that I was the one who was playing him. He went as far as telling others my history of self harm to make it look like I was the one who was psychologically deranged and clear himself of any wrongdoing.

Although the experience was horrific, I did manage to dedicate a lot more time to studying than I otherwise would have. I managed to secure admission at one of the most prestigious boarding schools in the country on a full scholarship. I was scared to leave my family, but I knew it was what I needed. I would not have lasted another two years at my high school without losing my mental sanity. Coincidentally, I found out that he was not going to university and chose to work in his father's mechanics store.

I left, cut any ties I had, and never looked back.

—

I spent the summer to myself, relaxing and trying to forget about school, what had happened that year, and kept myself in a positive frame of mind before moving to boarding school. I spent a weekend trip at the new school for orientation and loved the people that I had met.

My experience at my new school was nothing like what it has been at my last. I made loads of friends easily, got along well with my roommate and others on my floor, and settled in well into the environment. But there was always something wrong inside, despite me seeming confident on the outside.

I found a message I'd written to my friend that summarized my emotions quite well:

15th October

Everything feels like a crazy fucking mess. I feel a mess too, and I notice myself falling into another shitty pattern and trying to convince myself that tomorrow will be a better day, I won’t feel this way tomorrow, everything will be fine tomorrow, etc, etc. I don’t think I have felt this low in a while, because last year everything was circumstantial and based on events and how they all built up like tiny little blocks but eventually, everything came crashing to my feet. I have the same thoughts as I did when I was depressed a few years ago, and the feeling of holding a huge sack of stones in my chest is bringing back an uncontrollable ache that makes me imagine what it would be like at my own funeral, or the look on some of my friend’s faces when they find out that I’ve gone missing or the look on [friend]'s face when they find out that I’ve slit my wrists and now I’m struggling for my life in hospital. All of these kinds of thoughts, the urge to just cut my wrists to feel a type of calm that I haven’t felt in a while now... it’s just shining through. Yet, I don’t let it win, I can’t let it win because I know that I won’t forgive myself and it would just lead back to an endless cycle of self hate that I won’t be able to break free of. I’m not really sure what it is, because everything is looking up in my life rn. It’s just that there are a lot of things going on, which I suppose is completely clogging my mind and I don’t think anyone has noticed. Only my roommate has noticed, but she only saw a glance of me looking startled and confused. I’m glad no one has noticed the pain that I’ve been trying to hide at school, because I seem to be covering up my feelings with all of the stupid jokes that I’ve been making to hide how anxious and insecure I feel.

My school didn’t have a dance team, so I instead auditioned for the acapella group, which I did get into. I was informed of the winter performance that the school was putting on - and they wanted me to be the lead singer. I instantly clicked with everyone on the acapella team who welcomed me with a tremendous amount of warmth.

By the time winter came around, my mental state was still the same, if not worse. I used to sleep around 2 hours a night because I would have nightmares about what happened that day he came to my house, except in my nightmares, he would actually rape me. I would sit in class and hear the scream of my own voice, only I wasn't screaming, it was in my head. Everyone would think I’m concentrating on  class but in reality, I was imagining my own death. Meanwhile, I would get told that I’m always smiling so I must be really happy. I guess I just became very good at hiding how I really felt.

Usually, I'm a good singer, or at least, I thought I was. But when I went on stage that night, I could not hear the sound of the music. I thought I was going to blackout or even faint in front of everyone. I did well in practice, but by the time my voice came out, it was hoarse, off-tune, and completely missing the beat. I could sense the puzzled expression from the crowd and tried to continue. But I couldn't focus on my own voice and instead, heard more screams inside my head which spiraled out of control. I ran off the stage in the middle of the performance and burst into tears backstage.

My acapella group wasn't angry with me like I thought they would be. They actually told me that I did well in contrast to what I thought and were genuinely really concerned about me. I couldn't believe it; I felt nothing less than shame and embarrassment. Instead of staying for the rest of the show, I ran to my room and cried. My house was near a bridge that dropped down to a fast-flowing river. I snuck out in the middle of the night and walked to the bridge alone. The night was lonely and dark but I didn't care. What did I have to lose? I stared down at the water flowing beneath and imagined how it would feel to jump.

But I imagined my mother, father, brother, and sister hearing about my death. How would they feel knowing that I ended my own life? I remember my mother saying to me "Beta, remember whenever you feel low, Hanuman is with you." and gave me a copy of a pocket-size Hanuman Chalisa. I listened to it in the freezing cold, dark night and felt an instant sense of relief. I walked back to my room slightly more calm.

I had always thought of what had happened in my last school as a "bad experience" but I didn't classify it as something more than that. I turned to my teachers and school counselor for some form of emotional support. I didn't think I would suffer from what I now understand is complex PTSD. Eventually, after the initial shocks, my recovery went in waves. Even though I could speak to my advisors about my raw emotions, I never actually spoke about what happened to cause me to feel the way I did.

Even though I started recovering, I must admit that I've never sung or danced ever since. I quit the acapella group and stopped going to my Bharatanatyam classes. I never went back.

—

I met my boyfriend almost a year later when my mental state was slightly better. We were in the same AP and Honors classes and sat near each other. We started as friends, when I once turned my head around to his desk and asked “Are you Indian?” and he laughed and said yes. We would only speak about homework and study together in the library. He was always respectful, never flirted with me or overstepped any boundaries. We would stay together after class every day and go to the library together until dark, then walk back to our own rooms. I felt we instantly connected in a way that I had never connected within my life before. He understood the words that I did not say out loud and our minds seemed to be in sync. Instead of asking me out, he encouraged me to work harder to pursue my dreams. His presents were never gift cards, but instead, he gave me books to read and helped me open my mind to the world around me. Because of him, I became more rational, more balanced, and felt motivated to become a better person.

We began to spend all day together and talk until late in the night, but it never felt like it was enough. One weekend, we decided to go to the nearby city together. We spent it at street food markets and museums, laughing the entire day and filled with amazing conversations. On the bus back to school, I leaned my head on his shoulder and we snuggled up to each other. He stroked my hair and I felt safe, protected, and comfortable. As we got off the bus and walked back to school, he took my hand and held it. He walked me to my door to make sure I wasn't alone. Just after we hugged goodbye, we held each other for a brief moment and looked into each other's eyes. We shared a slow, long kiss at my doorstep. After the kissing and the hugging, he went back to his own house. I went into my room feeling like a giddy toddler who had tasted chocolate for the first time. I spent the rest of my evening thinking of him and smiling to myself.

Even though I was extremely happy with how things were going, I must admit that it took that to cause my trauma and anxiety to come back in a heartbeat. I began to inspect every single thing he did to look for signs of a toxic personality that didn't exist. "Is he coming late to our hangouts? Maybe he is plotting to hurt me secretly." I would think to myself. I started to question whether he was perhaps with me so he could convince me to have sex with him, even though none of our conversations were sexual. I made excuses about how I'm worried about college admissions, or the SAT to hide my anxiety and use it as an excuse to isolate myself from everyone. It wasn't anything he did, but it was my trauma replaying in my head.

For almost two weeks, I ate less than one meal a day and slept 4 hours a night because the trauma was too difficult to process. Even getting out of bed in the morning became increasingly impossible, and I ended up missing a whole list of school deadlines. Even though my relationship was practically non-existent at that point as a result of my actions, I abruptly ended it due to the influx of emotions that I was facing and did not give a reason either. I simply disappeared through summer and stop replying to his texts and taking his calls. He knew that something had happened to me, but I never cared to go into detail. I knew that my actions hurt him but I wanted to run away from the situation as quickly as possible.

I thought he deserved someone better than a mess like me.

—

With all of my hobbies gone, I struggled to channel my energy into anything that I felt was worthwhile. I admit that my grades began to slip drastically. For someone who never got anything less than an A my whole life, I could feel my performance plundering slowly and I did not know what to do. Besides, I needed to apply to college. I had childhood dreams of attending Harvard, but my grades were nowhere near any respectable standard.

I began to spend time away from everyone, locked in my room, and spent studying all day. It helped me take my mind away from the pain that I had been through, forget the breakup with my boyfriend and let my mind slip into my work. For many long months, I spent studying and sleeping. Since the school remained one of the most prestigious in the nation, it was also known for its toxic and competitive work culture. I never felt as though I was enough.

But it was too late. By the time exam season came around, I not only performed poorly, but I also failed multiple exams. I did not do well in the SAT either, and it was the last chance to improve them before submitting my applications. While my friends were getting acceptance letters from Early Decisions and Ivy League schools, I felt unsure about whether I would even get into my local state school.

It seemed like my depression would never end. I blamed myself entirely for screwing up things over the last several years of high school, arguably, the foundation for college. I worked so hard to get into my high school and thought it would be the same for college, only, I didn't expect things to go this wrong. What was the point of getting into a prestigious high school if I was a nobody with it? I ended up rejected from almost every college I applied to.

I was suffocating in shame, not just for myself, but to my family who had believed in me. After all, my family never struggled to put food on the table, or hesitate to give me and my siblings whatever we wanted. I told myself that I deserved it for letting a predator into my life, who brutalized me, broke my trust, and hurt me. I hated myself even more for giving someone control over my emotions. I started to develop a form of dissociation to cope with my sorrow: I began to feel a sense of numbness to the world around me. I could get caught in my own daydreams for hours on end, losing sense of time. My memories would frequently blank out and all I would see is fragments coming back together.

I had set myself up for failure and the time came for me to fail.

Further Reading: After a sexual assault, survivors GPAs plummet. This is a bigger problem than you think.

—

Six months after the breakup with my boyfriend, I wanted to try to at least rekindle a friendship. We had not spoken at all since the prior summer. I went to bed most nights thinking of him and what we used to be together. I struggled with my complex feelings inside and decided it was time to do something. One evening, I waited until he finished studying at the library and went to go see him. We were happy to see each other but he told me that he had a lot of personal matters going on so he wants keep to himself until graduation. I accepted it and respected his decision.

Once we graduated, the first thing I did was shoot him a text message. We met up the week after at a park and spoke about things. For the first time, I opened up to him about why I had behaved the way I did - I talked about my anxiety and the negative feelings inside of me. But again, I focused on my feelings and not the why I felt that way. We began to laugh and joke around in the way that we used to. It was only then that I realized all the feelings that I still had for him, no matter how much I had tried to suppress them. We then went back to a mutual friend's apartment and watched a movie together. Our relationship was officially rekindled.

I was always the happiest person in the world whenever I was with him. But I must admit, he did still scare me at times. We were once in my house sitting on the sofa together and I got up to get some water. He then playfully grabbed me to pull me back onto the sofa and I suddenly started getting flashes of memories. I began to shake uncontrollably and he realized and said "I'm so sorry, did I do something wrong? I didn't mean to hurt you." and I almost wanted to cry but I think he tried to ease the situation by making a silly joke so I just laughed and forgot about it.

One night, we stayed up talking until very late. We spoke about our childhoods, which weirdly enough, had never come up in the conversation before. He began to ask me questions about my old high school. I then opened up to him about what had happened, but not in extensive detail. He quite literally called the guy who hurt me a predator and pedophile, words that he would not throw around easily.

Further Reading: Understanding Sexual Assault - Consequences

—

College was a good distraction from all of this. My boyfriend got into an outstanding program across the country and we decided to continue our relationship. Despite feeling unhappy with my college choice, I seemed to move past my trauma since I was distracted with college life.

—

It only really began again when I heard Christine Blasey Ford's testimony. It was when I began to understand that I had actually been suffering from for years subconsciously. Just when taking a walk, I would get random blackouts, hear the sound of screaming No, and feel this sudden need to run away. I realized that for years, I would struggle to sleep at night. But I had just accepted this as a new kind of normal. Only it wasn't normal, it was suffering that I had learned to live with.

A couple of months later, I started to conclude that maybe I was sexually assaulted. I mean, it fits the definition, right? I first said it out loud at a dinner conversation with a friend. He told me about his girlfriend, who had been sexually assaulted in her childhood and wanted to support her. I began to feel an inner tidal wave, which was when I said "I think I can relate to her." and he looked really worried and said "I'm so sorry, I'm around if you ever want to talk about it." but he didn't question me further.

Whenever speaking to friends and have the subject come up in a conversation, I began to say that I was sexually assaulted. I would usually get a lot of sympathy from people but I never opened up to anyone about what exactly happened. Even when people would bring up sexual assault in a conversation, I would feel the pit at the bottom of my stomach.

I saw my boyfriend a few months after and decided to come clean with everything that I was feeling. He needed to know, so the time came to tell him. I began by talking about the entire story from start to finish, including the details of the assault. I struggled to find the right words to describe the incident and said "Perhaps it was sexual assault." but he interrupted me and said "There is no 'perhaps,' this is clear cut sexual assault. I'm so sorry you've been going through this, I wish you would have told me sooner so I could have been there for you." I didn't say much because I thought that he could be an overprotective boyfriend or overly worried about me. I was wrong, he was right.

For years, I had refused to believe that I was a victim. Even if I had only begun to say "I was sexually assaulted." out loud to others, who agreed that what happened was sexual assault, there was always a what if inside my head that questioned my own trauma. I understand now that this is gaslighting at its peak, which is exactly what many survivors of assault do to themselves.

The reality only fully hit me when I took part in a project about childhood trauma. The interviewer began to ask me questions about my childhood which was when I started to discuss what had happened instantly. I didn't know what right words or terms to use and still could not grapple with the thought that this truly happened.

I found an online anonymous chat room for women who survived childhood trauma and sexual assault and told my story from start to finish. So many kind strangers responded to my story with utmost sympathy. One even said that there is no exaggeration in what I went through at all and that many women downplay the seriousness of assault to cope with it. Only, this never holds in the long term when people eventually realize that what happened was wrong and reaffirm that it was, indeed, sexual assault.

Ever since, I have stopped gaslighting myself and fully come to terms with the fact that I was sexually assaulted and harassed. It has been a difficult process, but I think coming to terms with what really happened has finally helped me cope with the PTSD that has followed. The pain of not reporting him still haunts me; what if he hurts another child? Wouldn't it be my fault? Even if I took this to the authorities now, I have no evidence that this happened. It's his word against mine. There are no witnesses either. So who will believe me?

The sexual assault in and of itself is not the only aspect of my trauma, but also the emotional abuse combined with it. The violation of trust, the fear of being terrorized in your own home, and the sexual harassment that followed. Living with the fear of getting hurt, listening to the constant disparaging of your personal character at an impressionable age, and the gaslighting are not things that can be taken lightly. It's why TV shows like 13 Reasons Why felt relatable - not just for me, but for many.

One of the things that keeps me strong is my faith. I still won't forget what my mom said to me, so I read the Hanuman Chalisa every day. It has given me a tremendous amount of strength during adversity. My connection to Hindu dharma growing up always managed to save me. In retrospect, no child should have to go through what I went through.

I've made a lot of progress over the years. I graduated college with excellent credentials and got a job at the firm I've always dreamed of. My boyfriend and I are still as happy together today as we were the day we met. As I begin to accept, recover and move past the trauma, I hope to share this story with others who experienced sexual violence in their childhood and let them know that they are not alone in their struggles.