my sisters just so we are clear, it is NEVER because of you.

Because you wonder if it was maybe your fault.

Since

You were drinking

You had a promiscuous past

You did kiss him at the bar

You didn’t scream for his roommate in the room next to the couch

You didn’t run out in the morning

You went on another date with him

You told yourself “he was too drunk to know any better.”

Because you wonder if it was maybe your fault.

Since

You were at a bar

You had ordered a drink while you waited for your friend

You hadn’t drug tested that drink

You told yourself if you hadn’t been alone it wouldn’t have happened.

Because you wonder if it was maybe your fault.

Since

You didn’t hit and kick him

You didn’t run to tell your mommy right away

You didn’t tell him he was wrong when he told you “playing doctor is okay” and you knew it felt “icky” and wrong

You knew if you told he would be mad and not want to be your playmate anymore.

Because you wonder if it was maybe your fault:

So, you say nothing.

You take the blame.

You try to shake the shame that always comes with sex and your body.

You explain it away as “boyish” behavior- if it wasn’t really “rape” “attempted assault” or “molesting” then maybe you can pretend it never happened.

You believe you are at fault- because if you are to blame then no one can make you a victim.

You drown your pain with more alcohol, more men and more destructive behavior. Without knowing it you are out to prove just how much a victim you are not. And in the proving lose yourself, hurt yourself and then hurt others. Loads of others.

You run. And run and run. You become the kind of person who should be blamed. Because you are to blame? Aren’t you? Couldn’t you have avoided it all if you would have had different friends, different hobbies, different clothes, different Friday night activities and a whole different college?

Because you wonder if it was maybe your fault.

But then you hear stories. But then you tell a counselor. But then you start listening. But then you start reading. But then you want to stop. Stop it all.

Because then you wonder if maybe it wasn’t.

maybe it wasn’t your fault?

And then you wonder some more.

What if it was his responsibility to stop when you said “no. no. no. please stop.”?

What if he wasn’t supposed to put shit in your drink?

Maybe It Wasn’t Your Fault?

What if he was older, bigger, knew better and took advantage of your size?

What if maybe you are a victim?

What if maybe you are the statistic?

MAYBE IT WASN”T YOUR FAULT?

What if it is true that there are women, maybe 1 in 4 even who, regardless of their history of promiscuity, decisions about sobriety, choice of clothing, Friday night hobbies, and college selection are wondering the exact same thing? Right now. As you wonder.

But then you wonder what if it is easier to be at fault 

then deal with the possibility you were a victim?

And you realize, there are women who protest #metoo and question the coming forward of more survivors because they quite possibly have the most to lose. Because if it happened to the others, you are forced to remember, then choose:  Did it happen to you or because of you.