Tag: Sexual Assault Awarness Month

The Latest Sexual Assault Nightmare

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Close up of a person's eyes looking afraid

By: Giselle General

Trigger warning: Trauma flashbacks, nightmares, violent sexual assault

I’m sharing this in time for Sexual Violence Awareness Month, which is in May. If you have experienced sexual violence, there is help. This is just one of the many amazing organizations that can provide support and healing. https://www.sace.ca/

On Easter Sunday, my husband and I decided to go to bed like it’s a regular Sunday. He is working the next day while I have the day off.

Sometime in the middle of the night, I had a horrific nightmare. Having nightmares related to sexual assault is not new to me, I’ve had them on and off for a few years. But this was such an expected curveball.

I was captured, together with other people, in what looked like a room in a building located in the mining village where I grew up. There were no other clues or signs that indicated where I was, just the people I was with. I was with N (a childhood classmate), his mother C and a few people whose faces I can’t figure out.

Our captors look like soldiers, and they were rounding up the people they have captured. I don’t hear any sounds from the others, because I was paralyzed in horror as I realized what they were doing to the younger women like me. The soldiers were taking turns raping them.

And then, came my turn. My vantage point shifted from what was happening around me to just seeing how my face, my eyes looked like. I can’t tell who or how many men were violating my body. I can’t tell where it hurts, what body parts or tools were they using. Did they have a gun pointed at my head? Were they yanking my hair so they can access my mouth? Am I getting struck by sticks, ropes, or knives? Was the pounding in my vagina or anus so rough my body shook uncontrollably? I don’t know, I couldn’t tell.

From my vantage point, I see just my head, sometimes bouncing and shifting in direction, likely because someone or something was ramming inside me. Am I lying down, am I tied up, am I sitting up, am I being straddled, carried or thrown around? I can’t tell.

Everything around her face – my face – was fading away. And my eyes – her eyes – came to focus. And I know that look. The flash of horror from knowing what is about to happen, then the silent scream of taking in all the pain happening all around my body inside and out, and how much being violated is ripping my soul. And then, the resignation and escape, when the brown of my eyes lost sparkle and life, still wide open but fading into dullness and numbness. My head bounces more roughly, the invasion getting frantic. My mind trying to tell me “he’s almost done, it’ll be over soon”.

The next thing I know, I’m thrown into the ground, my body naked, grime and mud on my arms, legs and knees, my belly feeling hollow and raw. I lay them stunned for a few minutes, and then I tried to crawl on my hands and knees, forcing myself to sit up. As I painfully manage to do so, I look down between my legs. There’s a pool of blood on the dirty floor, slowly growing in size.

I frantically crawled to the end of the room, where my fellow captives were. I locked eyes with N, who was sitting beside his mother. As I get closer to them, C had a good look at my battered, broken body and my lifeless eyes. She then pulled my in her lap, the way a mother would for her child. I scrambled to touch the blood still coming out from between my legs and weakly asked “I’m not that broken, am I?” She said “no you’re not!” and pulled me closer, as if giving me permission to seek refuge in her arms. I crawled closer to her lap, and wept.

Silhouette of three Soldiers Walking

And that’s when I woke up, shaking, crying and breathing hysterically. It shook the bed so much that it woke my husband, who swiftly took me in his arms. This is nothing new to him, although I can tell for sure, the first time in at least a few years.

What’s even more messed up is that it’s not the sexual assault that distressed me so much to wake me up. It was when a motherly figure, one that I don’t have anymore, tried to give support and comfort. The reminder of what I don’t know, of what I will never have again, is what hurt more, enough to shake me awake.

It wasn’t until the morning when I was about to prepare for lunch, alone in the house, that I realized that it has been fifteen years since the sexual assault incidences that happened to me took place. It felt like so long ago, but at the same time, it doesn’t.

Another realization that made me pause is the gruesome scene that came in my dream. The sexual abuse I experienced was with a known person, and involved more blackmail and quiet threats. No tools, weapons, or violent physical injuries occurred. I think that subconsciously, the knowledge that rape and sexual abuse are common tactics in war came up on the surface that night.

During that week I had a surprise. Turns out, my next therapy appointment is for that upcoming Sunday. It was a relief knowing that I’ll have my phone call in just six days instead of thirteen. Telephone therapy went well overall, and this was the last thing I brought up. He confirmed something he had said in the past, the reality of how trauma works. Triggers can be unexpected and can pop up anytime, and it will affect me in varying degrees for the rest of my life. Hearing this a few times in the past, it feels more reassuring every time. Because it means I’m not flawed or weak or bad for having reactions to these again.

But with all that said, I’ll be glad if it is five years or more before I get a horrific nightmare of this sort!

Sexual Assault Survivor Gets a Boudoir Photoshoot

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By: Giselle General

CONTENT WARNING: Sexual Violence, Sexual Assault

Back view of woman sitting on the edge of a bed.

One’s bedroom should be a place of rest, escape, peace and comfort, after a long day of exhaustion, activities and responsibilities. The darkness of the night should be an opportunity of calm solitude, an end of a long day, a pathway to a new morning with the hope that the new day will bring about new adventures and experiences. One’s womanhood and the journey to become one can be uncertain and confusing, but should be one that is filled with discovery, curiosity, and optimism, as one transforms physically into adulthood.

Sexual assault, rape, abuse, molestation, however you want to call it, regardless of how it happened, not only defiles one’s outlook in their life and their bodies, but also taints one’s soul with an indescribable amount of fear and pain.

There were roadblocks to be had, that dragged on and weighed me down for months and years, and clouded the vision of myself, my body, my behaviours, and motivations. From having difficulty articulating how I’m feeling physically, emotionally, and sexually in my romantic life, to feeling uninformed and afraid to learn about reproductive health. From nightmares about being raped with scenarios more gruesome than what I have experienced, to daydreaming while taking transit on what I would do if I get assaulted again, but this time in public.

The journey to healing started online, thanks to the increased discussions about sexual assault. Simultaneously, my current relationship played a huge role, from being believed after I shared my story, to having a voice and being heard when talking about issues related to sexual health and sexual activities. And then a few years ago, the healing became more professional-based, when I finally went to therapy to address the mental and emotional entanglements caused by this particular traumatic event, as well as others.

But there was one thing I mulled about for a very long time, and that is addressing how I view my physical body. The conventional assumption of “she must have looked or dressed a certain way which is why she got assaulted” is one of the key messages I wanted to debunk in my mind and heart. Mind you, during the assaults, typically I was wearing pajamas and clothes of my deceased parents as my sleepwear back then. This is the biggest reason why this assumption enrages me.

Finally, after some time hemming and hawing, browsing through several photographer’s websites, and convincing myself that my budgeting skills are on track, I finally booked the appointment. I chose for the photoshoot to be done on a rented studio, with a wide variety of backdrops for various effects. Many of the backdrops depicted typical parts of a house, just more glamorous looking: the bedroom with pristine sheets, a fancy bathroom with a clawfoot tub, elegant couches and plush chairs, and brick and pastel painted walls. I purchased a few outfits to help me have a theme in the photos, I had my hair done by a hairstylist but chose to not have makeup on. Finally, I told the photograher I’m okay with being a bit of a daredevil with some surprise poses.

It was hard to articulate how enjoyable and empowering it is to feel calm while practically semi-nude in front of a stranger. It is particularly freeing given that my sense of trust was broken by someone who is definitely not a stranger. I felt a bit awkward when I was asked to do certain movements, because part of the approach is not holding still for a certain pose, but instead, to do things such as move your arms and hips in a sexy way while standing, or play with your hair while imagining that you’re feeling like a superstar on the bed right now. But soon enough, the awkwardness transformed into playfulness.

The biggest surprise of all for me, is how I looked like in the photos she captured. When I was doing a ‘movement pose’ such as walking into the door ready to ‘have some fun’, she was pressing the shutter button non-stop while saying ‘oh wow! yes that’s good!’. Fierce, confident, alluring, vixen, all womanly, and not even needing to act like a skinny model while doing so.

When I picked up the printed photobook that was part of my package, I had a bit of a chat with the photographer. I was amazed at how many of the clients the photographer had, were indeed, survivors of sexual violence. Our conversations touched on perception of women in general, the “male gaze” and how it impacts our own perception of ourselves.

In the very visual way we live our lives these days, I figured, using that to my advantage is worth it. It was pretty neat to turn something used to objectify women, professionally photographs, into an opportunity to challenge unhealthy views about one’s self. I feel inclined to do this again, perhaps in five to ten years, to celebrate any transformations in my body, while celebrating my personhood and womanhood. This is something I definitely would encourage other people to consider, particularly if their trauma affects their outlook of their physical bodies and their vision of themselves.

My Contribution to Sexual Violence Awareness Month

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By: Giselle General

May is Sexual Violence Awareness Month. It seems like every week, month, or day is dedicated towards something that it can be hard to keep track, this is something I’m not complaining about at all. Sometimes it can be something fun and casual like National Puppy Day, or something deeply important like Black History Month. I feel fortunate that in Canada, Alberta, Edmonton and other places worldwide, there were opportunities to talk about this important (and terrible) issue, give support to those affected, and have conversation on how to be aware and put an end to this.

The issue is a bit personal to me, since I myself have been a victim/ survivor of sexual assault. I purposefully used both words because these horrific act definitely have harmed me, and that should not be discounted one bit. At the same time, similar to the other life hardships that life threw at me, it is something I have survived from and changed who I am, hopefully for the better. The month had provided me with tangible opportunities to meaningfully participate.

Attending a Fundraising Gala

It seems like fundraising galas are everywhere, and attending them is actually pretty cool. I attended the fundraising gala for the Sexual Assault Centre of Edmonton at the Edmonton Convention Centre. While giving a hefty donation or a regular monthly donation is not within my budget at the moment, I figured that doing a one-time activity and donation is still something.

When it comes to food, I’m not picky anyways, and simply welcome the opportunity to have something different from my regular routine. This gala was a bit special as well, as I managed to join a table with other people who are actively involved in Edmonton. Some people at the table were familiar faces and names, which is thrilling! The keynote speaker, a gentleman who is a lawyer, was wonderful! What I appreciate most about the keynote speaker is that he addressed head on some of the misconceptions that surround sexual assault, from the act, to how survivors behave, and to how a perpetrator can look like. As someone who is part of the legal community, I also appreciate how he humanizes the flaws of the legal system. ‘These are human institutions with people who care‘ he said. I think that when we don’t get the results we are seeking, this is something that we forget in the midst of our anger, pain and discouragement.

Attending an event with a host who is also an auctioneer was a first for me, and seeing how the on-stage sign language interpreters keep up with the host was entertaining! I was blown away by the generosity and disposable income that some people have. Hearing the thousands of dollars being announced during the live auction bids made me gawk, and the tables of items available at the auction tables made me hope that lots of funds are indeed going to support the organization. After this, I definitely feel more inclined to make time and attend more fundraisers like this.

Educating Myself and Learning More Stories

There are lots of ways to make this convenient, specifically through social media. Simply following a few pages that talk about feminism, social issues, storytelling/artistic ones like Humans of New York, give a steady stream on my social media feed about stories and insights that people have. It can be heartbreaking, empowering, informative or hopeful depending on the story or the article. What I know for sure is that it is a reminder of how these experiences are common and universal. My goal is to spread awareness, reduce stigma and victim blaming, and seek out comfort for myself and others.

Evaluating What I Learned from Therapy

It has been almost two years since I went to therapy, and the effort to diligently apply what I have learned is going well. Other positive and healthy habits are being integrated in my life day by day, which also feels very promising. One thing I know is that it will take the rest of my life to remind myself to not be so outcomes-focused in my approach in life, and that is okay.

Also, as it turns out there are times when these calming or self-regulating techniques do not work and I’m not panicking about it. That really is the bigger victory. The calm that comes from accepting that I am a person that grows, changes and that have some weird quirks is liberating. I’m as messed up as anybody else, and this is not a crippling idea anymore.

The dictionary definition of internalize is “to incorporate (the cultural values, mores, motives, etc., of another or of a group), as through learning, socialization, or identification.” This is the biggest victory of my therapy experience, to internalize that it was okay to feel angry and sad and hurt about being treated poorly, to internalize that is is okay to set aside time to acknowledge these feelings, to internalize that there is a way and I deserve to process these feeling and release them, to internalize that I deserve all those good things I life that I didn’t have for a while.

I encourage anyone to find a cause you care about that has a date/ week/ month dedicated to spread awareness, and take it as an opportunity to spread awareness, provide support, and improve ourselves.