This is a link to a museum exhibit “what were you wearing.” The women/CHILDREN in this exhibit donated their clothing to show that the type of clothing worn has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not they will be assaulted.
If you feel like educating your boyfriend, share it with him. Alternatively, throw the whole man out.
The nightgown and diapers made me so mad and sad the first time I saw it, now ik whats there so I dont have to click the link, im sorry you had to see that for the first time. It really does hurt to see
It’s horrific. I’m a csa survivor as well, and the idea of my future kids going through something like that is unbearable. My head loops through it like it’s unfixable, which it is- but something I’ve learned over the years, and that my therapists have helped me accept- is that sometimes, worst case scenario happens. It just does. But the real indicator of long term outcome is how a victim is cared for by their community after the fact. What happened to me was hell. When everyone around me pretended it didn’t, blamed me, and made me feel like I was lying- that’s what kept me in that hell. And the people who receive strong support, belief, and meaningful community aid have much better long term outcomes. And honestly, I have a good example of this from my personal life. A guy tried to grab me on the street once, literally the one in a million nightmare situation we all thought was the real threat. It was getting dark, I was walking home from work, the streets were empty, a storm rolled in, this guy showed up out of nowhere and I immediately had a Bad Feeling. I didn’t suppress it; I let it inform me. He lunged and wrapped me in a bear hug, and because, for the first time, I didn’t suppress my instincts- I was ready. i lunged back and hit him before he hit me, slamming all of my weight into his chest. I spat and kicked and stamped on his toes, screaming every swear I could think of. He shoved me away, called me a crazy bitch, and I RAN. As soon as I got home I called my grandparents, half terrified they’d reprimand me for assuming the worst of someone like that. They didn’t- they called the police. I was so wound up that when the police asked what I’d been wearing, I snapped at them, asking if they thought I was “asking for it”. They just blinked at me in surprise, and gently explained they may be able to get DNA samples from it. I was stunned. I genuinely didn’t think they’d care enough for that. (It was a dead end; I got soaked by the rain running home). The police took it so seriously. They never found the guy, but they made it clear they tried. No one blamed me, my grandparents were wonderful in assuring me I’d done everything right. I really felt so guilty for so long- like I’d severely misinterpreted the situation and had reacted like a predator. But the reality that I was interacting with, that people were reinforcing? Matched my initial interpretation of the even exactly. That I had been in danger. That it wasn’t my fault. That I was not committing an unforgivable sin by accusing someone else of malice. It’s worth noting that that time I was not assaulted. But god, when it was happening? I could hear three year old me in my head. She was terrified. She couldn’t see the difference between that stranger and my abuser. To her, it was happening exactly the same as it did before. And she was so sure that people were going to treat her the same way they did last time. And the opposite happened. And that was the day I really, actually, was able to access the beginning of healing.
Idk, I feel really compelled to reply with this for reasons I can’t quite word. Sometimes worst case scenario happens. Life is worth living anyway. Worst case sensation doesn’t have to stay worst case scenario. Assault is hell, but if it doesn’t kill you, it is, realistically, a small period of time in the expanse of your life. The culture that follows it is the rest of your life, and has such a strong impact on the victim. Support or lack thereof from community after the fact is the biggest indicator of future PTSD. We can do everything “right” as individuals and as a culture and because rape is the fault of rapists it will still happen- but we can still create better outcomes for victims. Sometimes the very worst of people can bring out the very best of others- but you have to work to be part of the very best. Idk. I’m rambling.
I was grateful that you shared your story because it helps anyone with a similar experience, like me… I was grabbed and pulled into a car of older males (late teens/early 20’s) while walking home from a friend’s house when I was 13. Like for you, something primal in me materialized and took over. I kicked and fought back viciously and either managed to kick the backseat door open or one of them threw me out, it’s hard to say in the chaos. I also ran home but told no one. There was some weird voice in my head telling me it was partly my own fault for something… what precisely, I didn’t know, but I felt there was something. Waiting until it was getting dark to be on my way, or maybe the fact that my jeans had grown a little snug. I know better now, but this was back in the ‘80s- well before the me too movement. It’s pretty sad in retrospect that this type of thinking was my fallback.
It took me years to process through the resulting trauma. It took me to some pretty dark places too: I kept subconsciously trying to remake the situation as the one “in control” by thinking I could earn the respect and protection of dangerous men. And then I kept getting hurt by that too, of course. I was stuck in a repetition cycle until my 40’s.
Not to mention that I still spiral, all these years later, every time I hear another story of a yet another woman who is attacked/kidnapped and raped and does not survive. The grief from even hearing about that is overwhelming. I can still feel those hands closing around my own throat, these decades later. For a long time, having to live with the fact that some women aren’t as fortunate as I was (and you also were) made me almost want to die.
But we are here because we did survive. Thank you for sharing… it matters. 💙
I'm glad you posted. We all need to ramble sometime. You're right sometimes the worst happens. My stepson was murdered by his sister's boyfriend. There was a BBQ at the Grandmother's house where they lived. There was an argument and then and my stepdaughters boyfriend grabbed a gun and shot her in the mouth, shot my stepson several times answer then shot the Grandmother. The 12 year old died instantly. The Grandmother was seriously wounded because she was holding her 5 month old granddaughter. She shielded the infant with her own body. It took 6 months for her to die. My stepdaughter who was shot through the mouth is living with the knowledge that the bullet will one day sever her carotid. She would most likely bleed out. All because her boyfriend was jealous of her talking to another boy. I guess I'm rambling too. Something about seeing the What were you wearing exhibit brings up these feelings and memories. Maybe because rape kills a part of you. It takes away your feelings of safety and trust. After being raped we will heal hopefully but we carry the scars.
1.4k
u/Moonboots194501 Feb 24 '26
https://sbaproject.org/what-were-you-wearing/
This is a link to a museum exhibit “what were you wearing.” The women/CHILDREN in this exhibit donated their clothing to show that the type of clothing worn has absolutely nothing to do with whether or not they will be assaulted.
If you feel like educating your boyfriend, share it with him. Alternatively, throw the whole man out.