Finding Strength After Saying, "#MeToo"

I’ve already written about my experience being in an emotionally abusive and physically violating relationship in college, which can be found here.

However this week, in response to the multiple headlines around Brett Kavanaugh, Justin Schneider, and Bill Cosby, I’ve been reflecting on #WhyIDidntReport and the freedom that came from when I finally did in my own time:

***Trigger Warning***

The first time I was sexually abused, I was a child desperately eager to make friends. My dad had left our family and that created a void in my heart that I tried to fill with the attention and presence of friends. What followed were years of being labeled “weird” and “annoying” because I wanted to follow my friends around all the time out of fear that they would leave me, too. I cringe thinking back on all the embarrassing and dehumanizing treatments I allowed my 7 year old self to endure just so I could call someone my “best friend”. If I could go back in time, I would hug that girl so tightly and whisper affirmations of her worth to her as lullabies because that insecurity she held onto as tightly as air would be what led her into a friendship with someone who would betray her trust and confuse her for the rest of her life.

When I was young, I was best friends with a girl from church. We were pretty inseparable and she never made me feel less than. Our moms were friends and, when hard financial times hit our family, her mom would suggest I sleepover at their place. I was SO excited – I couldn’t wait to have a sleepover at my best friend’s house. When I went over, we ran around outside and played games, watched TV, ate good food, and then spent the rest of the late afternoon in her room with her sisters. It was there that we played a new game: “house”. I would be the mom and she would be the dad and her sisters would be the baby and the aunty.

At first, there was nothing malicious about her intent – we were only playing a game – and it seemed innocent enough: I pretended to cook food for our “house” and she would act like the loving, doting husband calling me “beautiful”. Then, she mentioned that we should act as if I was pregnant with another baby so the story would be more interesting – so I did. In my naivety, I waddled around and acted like my back was hurting and we just laughed about it throughout the day until it was time for bedtime. Because all of her sisters stayed in the same room together we had to share beds, so I naturally shared hers and her two siblings shared the other. When they went to sleep, we would link our Nintendo DS’s together (this really shows how old I am) and play games late into the night until she asked me if I wanted to play “house” again. I was confused; we had just finished playing the game earlier but – being the desperate child that was eager to please – I said, “yes”. She then proceeded to rub my body with her hands, put her hands under my nightgown, and kiss me on my cheeks and neck all while saying “you’re so beautiful”. I laid there stunned, confused, and unsure what to do or think:

Did I like this? Was this okay? Are her sisters awake?

The next morning we acted as if nothing had happened but I knew that a secret had been formed between us that we were NEVER to speak about to anyone else. From then on, whenever I slept over at her house this cycle would continue until her family moved away.

For almost 15 years I’ve held onto this secret and only revealed it to my parents (who got back together when I was ~10) when I was 13 after returning home from a missions trip where I gave my life to Christ. I revealed to them how I struggled to hold in this secret for so long and how it ate away at me for years. I would later tell my mom how I remember being so tremendously depressed when I was younger because I was being bullied at school all while deeply hating myself; I would lay awake in my bed and stay up for hours fighting against suicidal thoughts because I thought my life was worth nothing and that I had committed a sin that marked me for the rest of my life. It wasn’t until I was saved and much older that I learned I was abused and that God loved me all along during that time as much as He does now – and will forever.

Praise God.

Several years ago, she sent me a friend request on Facebook (which I declined) and all this anger suddenly rose up in me. THAT was when I knew that what I had experienced wasn’t just a “game” – it was abuse. Even just a few weeks ago I saw her face scroll across my timeline; she was even under recommended friends a few years ago. When I saw her online, I thought about what happened after she moved away and our friendship ended:

Did she do this to other girls? Are they as confused as I was? Are they okay? Why didn’t I say anything sooner?

And it’s that last question that haunts every victim of abuse for so long because we live in world that places all the burden of assault/rape/abuse on them but never on those who perpetrate it against them. And I refuse to hold onto this fear of rejection and shame any longer.

So, I share this with trembling hands because this is the first time I’ve publicly spoken/written about it - ever. This defining incident in my life changed everything and marked my entire adolescence, and some parts of it continue to impact me to this day: how I view God, how I view myself, how I view sex, how I view dating and relationships, how I view sexuality and gender. But, by the grace of God and the understanding love of my mother, I’ve been healed and I don’t consider myself a victim but a conqueror. I no longer suffer from suicidal thoughts or deep self-hatred; I now rest in the power and victory I’ve received from being a beloved child of God; I have found peace and comfort in Genesis 50:20,

“Don’t you see, you planned evil against me but God used those same plans for my good, as you see all around you right now—life for many people.” (MSG)

This was, and still is, not an easy thing to share. I’ve held it in out of fear of rejection from those close to me because this type of abuse raises so many irrelevant and biased questions that just exhaust and tire me: Are you gay? Have you ever been gay? Are you attracted to women? Can you serve in ministry with a past like that? All these questions are irrelevant because they miss the point and stem from a place of ignorance. Instead say this:

I’m sorry this happened to you

I believe you

I am thankful God made you who you are

Though I still deal with the aftermath of being sexually abused at two different times in my life, I am now whole; I am being made into Someone beautiful every day; I am worthy of receiving respectful, honoring love from those around me. So, I share this with you today from a place of freedom and healing which could never have happened if I was forced to tell my story before its time or before I was ready, which is why I deeply respect the bravery of the numerous women and men who have come forward in the wake of #MeToo and #ChurchToo and stand with them in solidarity.

To them I say, “Thank you for sharing”, and to you I say, “Thank you for listening”.