Memorial Day: A Trauma Anniversary
*Content Warnings: Mention of sexual violence and attempted suicide.
Today marks the four-year anniversary of when I was raped. For the last few anniversaries, I have found myself wanting nothing more than to go back in time and have those days be any ol’ day. I have wanted May 26th to be just a regular day amidst a lifetime of not remembering what I did on any given Memorial Day weekend.
Yesterday I had planned to go to the store to get some of my favorite comfort foods (Entenmann’s donuts anyone?!) and take care of some final items on the to-do list. I have been dreading this Trauma Anniversary for months now. This year feels different. To be candid, I think it’s because this is the first year that I have given up hope on ever getting any real accountability. I don’t say that in a Debbie Downer way. Okay, well maybe partially. The reality is that it’s the truth and accepting it is part of this seemingly endless journey.
The truth is as much as I am exhausted from having a never-ending slideshow of haunted memories that invade my brain both day and night, I woke up today finding myself not wanting to forget.
Four years ago, I was a healthy thirty-something working at “my dream job” as a director’s assistant on a tv show. I was a homeowner, had what I thought was a great group of friends, went abroad for the first time. As I’ve told my therapist a dozen times since, I was thriving. It was the first time I had two days off work in a row since January. When I left the house that evening, I thought I was going to have fun, let my hair down with some friends, and enjoy the evening.
I didn’t know that my life was going to change forever. I thought the next day maybe I would be hungover and might want Dunkin’ Donuts as I slept and caught up on laundry before going back to work. How could I have known? We never know. If you could plan for trauma, it wouldn’t be trauma.
How could I have known that hours after the bar closed, I would be raped and sodomized by the lead actor on the show I had been working on. In my opinion, it was violent, and I truly didn’t know when or how it was all going to end. I was terrified. I have been fighting for my survival every second of every day since.
I’m tired and angry. I’m angry that the majority of people from my old life don’t seem to care, let alone be angry, about what happened to me. I’m angry because when I say me, I mean all of us because it’s bullshit the way survivors of abuse and sexual violence are treated.
I’m angry that I’ve been failed and harmed by all the people and systems that were supposedly intended to support me. I’m angry at how few resources there are for victims/survivors and how often these alleged resources further perpetuate harm and recreate cycles of abuse. I love the work I do now, as a victim advocate and trauma educator. Work that so many survivors have done long before me and will long after me, but it shouldn’t always be up to us. Healing shouldn’t be a privilege.
Everyone tells me it is not their place to get involved and I envision myself standing in a long, dark corridor screaming into a void; Then whose job is it? It’s not a rhetorical question either.
Every day I watch this borage of people tangoing with misogyny, the feminist/girl powering all over their timelines, and organizations claiming support, only to bring their pitch forks out at any sign of inconvenience or glimpse of shiny reward.
It’s always Believe Women, Believe Survivors. But not that woman. Not that survivor. I know with all my heart that there is no such thing as a perfect victim, that it is a victim blaming myth but I’m angry that I’m not a perfect enough victim. Society, my old friends, my brain on hard days, all tell me that I’m not likable enough or that I didn’t respond to the trauma in a suitable enough way or that I’m not believable enough or worthy enough. And that makes me angry!
Am I the only one angry though? I’ve learned the hard way time and time again that you can’t make someone care. More often than not, I’ve had people angrier at me for telling them about the abuse and harm I’ve experienced than the fact that I was abused and harmed.
With all I’ve been through and learned over the years, I now can’t help but think about the massive power differentials at play. I’ve even done some math. Based on our salaries on the show, the actor who raped me made at least 2000% more than I did. If you equate money with power, this man was already at least 2000% more powerful than me, not even including all the other power dynamics at play. That’s more than 2000% more able to control the narrative, with more access to resources, and more money to be able to pay for the best. Add in the case of CBS, the promising futures of all creatives involved, it wasn’t even David vs. Goliath. It’s always been David’s tinier, nerdier little sister versus Goliath. Note to self: Never accept work on a project with the tagline, “How much does it cost to bury the truth?”
With that being said, it wouldn’t be fair if I didn’t give myself some credit. I’ve since settled a sexual harassment lawsuit with CBS and the executive producer on the show who bullied and harassed me the majority of the show and led a smear campaign against me when I tried speaking up. This was the same man who cried about how hard it was to be a man in the MeToo era, called me crazy and laughed at me when I told him I wanted to die at the tail end of one of his tirades. That day had been about three weeks since the assault and two days before I actually did try to take my own life. He would later tell cast and crew that I went crazy because I was upset that he didn’t want to sleep with me (clearly not the case). I was asking him to not be disrespectful to me, but some people truly don’t get that you have to be respectful to people you aren’t attracted to or going to sleep with. He is still making tv and seemingly not affected or had his life derailed. The actor who assaulted me continues to thrive and escape accountability. He’s been threatening to sue me for defamation since the end of 2018. With his power and resources, it’s a very real threat. Truth is the ultimate defense to defamation, and I believe I would win but as many are learning in real time now with Johnny Depp suing Amber Heard for defamation, the suit itself is part of the punishment.
I have been left to pick up the pieces. Four years later I am still working through it all. Four years later, I am still in pelvic floor physical therapy for issues stemming from the assault. My life is forever changed. I am angry that the film industry lost a talent such as myself. Too many bright futures dimmed too soon.
Sure, who knows what will happen in the future but for now the truth is that he has used his fame and power to escape accountability. I’m mad and that’s okay. I’m allowed to be. Being mad means that I know I didn’t deserve what happened to me. Under my anger are unmet needs that deserve to be realized. More people should be angry. They should be furious.
Today I will be angry. Today I will be furious. I’m furious that I was harmed and tossed aside by so many. I’m angry and outraged for all of you that have been as well. Today I am angry for all the families waking up to new realities without loved ones, wondering if it’s safe to send their kids to school or their aunt to the store. Be angry. This is not okay. Be outraged.
Today I will remember.
