Rape doesn’t always conform to the stereotypes you might have in mind. It doesn’t only occur in dark alleyways where a stranger violently assaults someone unaware. It’s not exclusively linked to alcohol or the actions of deranged individuals. Sometimes, it happens at the hands of those we trust most—like a close friend.
How do I know this? Let me explain.
Not long ago, I was a new mom, confined to my home for months. I hadn’t enjoyed a cocktail in a year and missed the laughter and fun with friends. My husband encouraged me to take a night off while he handled our baby’s bedtime. I decided to go out with some of my closest friends, reliving the carefree days of college.
We danced, laughed, and reminisced about the good old times, vowing to reconnect more often. At the end of the night, I couldn’t drive, so my longtime friend, Jake, offered to take me to my girlfriend’s house. Jake and I had shared countless memories together, supporting each other through thick and thin. He was someone I thought I could trust without question.
Fast forward to the next morning, I woke up in an unfamiliar room, completely naked, next to Jake. It dawned on me that his emotional distance at my wedding wasn’t about his relationship troubles; it was about me. I realized he didn’t see me as a friend, but as something he could claim for himself. When I got married, I was no longer “his,” and he had taken his chance to assert control over me.
The realization hit me hard. I could smell the remnants of alcohol and feel intense pain. My “best friend” lay next to me, oblivious to the horror of the night prior. I felt utterly violated and ashamed.
Returning home was excruciating. How could I face my husband and pretend everything was normal? I felt trapped, too ashamed to share what had happened. I’d become the girl others talk about—the one blamed for being in the wrong place at the wrong time or for “asking for it.” I didn’t want to be labeled as weak or promiscuous.
It took me a long time to confront the truth, but I’m ready to say it now: my best friend raped me. That’s what it is when someone takes advantage of another without consent. I didn’t ask for this; I didn’t put myself in danger by trusting him.
Rape isn’t an accident or a mistake; it’s a deliberate act. It’s a horrifying reality that leaves lasting scars. So, before you judge someone for their circumstances, consider the times you or someone you know has been in a vulnerable situation. Did they deserve to have their dignity stripped away?
Our justice system may fail us, but we can support each other. Let’s call rape what it is: inexcusable and malicious. Let’s stop victim-blaming and understand that survivors like me, who fear sharing their stories, deserve compassion and support.
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In summary, this experience was a painful reminder of trust betrayed, the complexities of consent, and the need for open conversations about sexual violence. We must work together to create a supportive environment for survivors.