Unspoken

    I don't speak about the dark. Instead, I bottle my troubles away and put them in a cupboard. My (adopted) mom says it's a coping mechanism that I've had since I was a kid. I guess you can blame that on my biological parents and the orphanage. We all have demons and secrets we keep hidden, some have scars that are visible. I have one, and I wear it proudly. When people ask I simply say "Yeah it's a Phoenix. I got it done in Germany." I don't tell people the real reason. I guess I think they will look at me differently. I think as women we tend to silence ourselves because we worry about everyone else. Well, here I am saying NO to the silence. 

The Phoenix is a mythical creature, one that lives and dies, Reborn. 

Here is my story.

As women, we live in a world where the male gaze is portrayed everywhere. Men catcall us, and some act as if we are just mere objects created for their own personal use. Highschool luckily I didn't experience too much, I mean at least back then I didn't understand. The art of coercion. My junior year was when I had my first kiss more like a force of the tongue down my throat. That's not how my first kiss should have been, but in high school, you just try to make it one day at a time. I was a transfer student in my junior year, coming into a private catholic school. YAHOO! Literally, you see the TV shows where the students eat their lunch in the bathroom. Yup, that was me. How the star fell. My old high school was a lot smaller, but I had friends and I had security. This was all new, but I learned to adapt quickly. Since prior, I had gone to 5 different schools. I was always the new kid, but this time it didn't seem shiny and fun. This time I just wanted to be accepted more than anything. So I allowed that man to stick his tongue down my throat. At that time I felt desired, and as a high school girl that meant everything. Well, Silver Bell was just around the corner, so I asked that lovely snake if he wanted to go to the dance with me. His reaction couldn't have gone any better. He accepted, and I felt like I was soaring. The new girl scored a date for the dance. I wouldn't be the loser anymore. Anyway, the day of the dance I was getting my hair done in the saloon. Chatting with my stylist and mom about the soon-to-be events of the night. My phone chimed and I looked at the screen. His name appeared, and I smiled. I quickly opened the message.

    Can't go. 

My face fell and my heart pounded. My mom could tell that my demeanor was off. I showed her the message. Woohoo the girl who got stood up at Silver Bell. Well anyway I went to that dance with a friend, and it was great. But, about two weeks later, I was talking to a group of girls and they were discussing the man. The one I was supposed to go to the dance with. Well, finally the reason why he said No. He had learned that I was a virgin, and wouldn't sleep with him. That was my first experience of coercion. 

After that, I kinda just kept my head down or so I thought. Reputations and gossip seemed to follow me. A flirt, a tease, and so on. Sometimes it was easier just playing that role because that's what people expected. 

Finally, graduation came, and the next chapter was COLLEGE. 

2016 I was a freshman at Gustavus. I was so thrilled that I got accepted. I would be the first in my family to get an undergrad. But before school started, Gustavus sent us emails, videos, and online classes. I didn't understand completely what the online courses were for. But now to this day, I see it as they were preparing us for battle. American College. Get ready for binge drinking, passing out, and calling medical amnesty. Then I learned about Title IX, sexual assault, and rape. I quickly rushed through it and my only thought was this. "That wouldn't happen to me." 

HOW DOES A COLLEGE decide we should PREPARE them for this. How in the hell do you prepare someone for assault, rape, the cruelty. The truth is you don't. 

Freshman Year

    Alcohol became the life of the party. Every weekend, most students would plaster themselves in makeup. Tight tops that barely held our chests in. SEXY back then... meant to show skin. At least that's what I thought. In my freshman year, I wasn't looking for love. I was looking for desire and fire. Funny enough certain men fell. I just allowed the words to wash over me, and roll my eyes. I wanted to be the life of the party and guess what? I was. I had somehow risen, since high school. I became friends with upperclassmen and fraternities. I thought I had everything. I did... until the night. The night where I brought eight girls to one of my guy friend's places. He had all types of fancy liquor. I started taking pulls, not caring. I would drink and dance. But that night turned into a night of no memory. To this day I can close my eyes and still feel the heavy eyelids opening, and seeing a nurse simply state. "Pull up your top. The doctor will be here shortly." Or another voice saying "Your boyfriend is here to take you back." 

I woke the next morning to a very good friend (let's call him ace) of mine lying on the floor. I simply rubbed my eyes, and before I could speak.  Ace asked, "How ya feeling?" Honestly, I felt drunk. I looked down at him from my lofted bed, and he could tell I had no recollection of the night prior. "Let's get ya some food." We headed then to the caf and he told me about the events of the night. By 8pm, not even, I was being practically carried back to my dorm by two friends. Because I had gotten blacked out drunk. Ace was the only one who stayed with me that night, due to everyone else leaving just to be safe so they wouldn't get into trouble. A neighbor in the dorm had once been an EMT or something, and they realized the best course of action was to send me to the hospital. Hence Medical Amnesty. To this day I still thank Ace for being by my side. He was and always will be a true one. He kept explaining the events of that night, but we were interrupted by my phone. My mom ...

I could dive deeper into this point, and story, but honestly, all I have to say is. . . If you decide to drink, PLEASE DRINK WITH PEOPLE YOU TRUST! We have all experienced nights of our heads being in a toilet bowl. But, that night could have gone so much worse, had it not been for Ace and the others who knew I needed help. 

Freshman year for me was the year to be wild, to party... But in truth all I wanted was connection. I became a sheep and followed the crowd. 

Sophomore Year

The previous year I had created a lot of friendships. This would be my year! And guess what it was... or so I thought. My first week back was filled with laughter, smiles, and a cute boy who actually liked me. This was the year of lust or love. 

I had a friend who was hosting a party that first or second weekend of school. Some friends and I decided to go. It was the perfect place, I trusted the people around me, and it was such a wonderful energy. One friend had drank a bit much and we decided it was better for her to go back to her place. We dropped her off and then got a message to come back to the party. We did... and that there would be the night when a piece of me would be stolen. 

We were playing of course a drinking game, and a new roommate of the friend's place we were hanging out in sat beside me. I didn't know him, and the others also didn't know him well. But they needed him so they could manage to get the apartment we were partying in. 

I have learned that I have a gift or curse. When I am uncomfortable or feeling like a deer in the headlights, I can switch it off. I become still, frozen, silent. And that's what happened at the table. This man who sat beside me touched me. Without consent. He was getting himself off while fondling me. I didn't say anything. I couldn't. I wanted to scream but it felt like someone had put me on mute. I quickly allowed myself to embrace the darkness. But before I knew it, the table was flung over and someone was on the ground. A man growled, "She's mine." 

I was sexually assaulted. 

I left the apartment. The next morning, I felt dirty. There wasn't enough hot water to wash away his touch. 

No one should have to deal with sexual assault or rape. But back then in college, after that moment. I felt that it was meant to happen. Like a drunk night. The college prepared us for it. A friend of mine who was at the party. The one who told the predator to leave me alone, she actually helped me find my voice and make a case against him through the college. 

My advice, if you have a case. Don't just go to the college, go to the POLICE. 

Sophomore year, I made a promise. Don't think about it, pretend it didn't happen. That's what I did, I bottled it up. No one had to know. I didn't want to be considered the victim. Then one night I went out to see a guy. I learned that man took my No as a YES. I froze again. I accepted rape and sexual assault as if it were as common as a pop quiz. I didn't tell anyone about that night. I couldn't. Why would they believe the girl who just got sexually assaulted? Plus the man who raped me, well he was very well known around campus. Later on, I learned that I wasn't his first victim.

I don't want you to be scared of college. I just want you to know and to learn to use your voice. Speak Up! We are listening, we support you. We believe you. We Love You.

Germany 2020

I got my first tattoo because I couldn't handle the pain. I couldn't fight the demons. Everywhere I walked I could feel him, smell him, and see him. I wanted it to all go away. The alcohol wasn't working, it wouldn't stop the replaying of those events. 

College I accepted it... because for some reason I thought I had to. 

Germany, I allowed myself to trust.

It was a perfect day, he seemed kind and sweet. Until he wasn't. There are nights when I can still feel his hand on my throat, and his breath on my neck. 

I didn't fight. 

I didn't scream. 

I do remember my body pressed to the wall. I looked up and I saw the brightest light and a tree. I held onto that light. Praying to God, that I wouldn't be left dead there. When he was finished, he held my hand and we ended up back at the park with our mutual friends. My friend sensed it. She knew we needed to get out. I quickly held her hand, and we walked away. Once I couldn't feel his eyes on me, I ran. I ran till I couldn't. 

Being Raped in a different country is . . . torture. 

I had no one to turn to. I didn't speak, until one day I realized if I didn't come home. I wouldn't be going home alive. I was losing myself. 

My tattoo made me feel alive, it made me realize I am worth so much more. I am a SURVIVOR! 

Sexual assault, harassment, and rape are not things to use as a joke. I learned many people have dealt with events like these. They don't speak up because maybe they aren't ready to share their story. I am sharing my story because I have had people use these events against me. I have had certain people tell me

-what were you wearing?

-well you lead him on

-how was it rape if you originally wanted to hook up...

NO means NO! even if you can't say it. If someone is terrified, scared, mortified, and not speaking. STOP ! 

I am taking my voice back. 

I am here.

I fight every day. 

The demons come and go, sometimes they seem to be my only company at night. 

I am strong.

If you have ever dealt with sexual harassment, assault, or rape. I am so sorry. If you need to talk to someone, please email me. I am here for you.

Email: alyssawallacerussia@gmail.com