Tracy’s Story:  Why We Don’t Tell

Tracy’s Story: Why We Don’t Tell


The first time I was raped I was 13.
Obviously too young to even have any idea what was happening, or why. I’ve put this behind me now, moved on. It doesn’t define me, not anymore. It certainly DID define me during my formative years though, for sure. Through high school (he was one of the “popular” boys, of course!), through college, and in my early career. I still well remember his name, and know the region where he lives, although I’ve moved far away since then. I also feel pretty sure that I am not the only girl who was ambushed by this boy.
Of course it was my fault, I was wearing my shorts and tank top, and was walking alone along a path through the woods on my way to meet my friends, as I did often. Girls aren’t allowed to do these things, don’t you know? My fault. I’m sure. Or so I’ve been told.
Regardless, the point is, I’ve moved on. It doesn’t define me. (Well, I know I can’t go on a hike in the woods alone anyway, that’s for sure!)
BUT, if I saw him running for supreme court justice right now, on a platform of “decency” and anti-women’s rights, I sure as Hell would speak out right now!



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