It gets worse before it gets better - to be bald and beautiful

This is probably the most difficult blog I've forced myself to write. Not because of what happened, but because of the aftermath and its consequences. To this day, I still feel the hurt this experience has caused myself, my friendships, and my relationships.

CONTENT WARNING: Rape and Sexual Assault.  this is about sexual assault and my process of getting over it.

Shock. Disbelief. Embarrassment. Shame. Guilt. Powerlessness. Denial. Anger. Fear. Anxiety. Depression.

These are just some emotions that I have felt after the incident occurred. In May of 2016, a week shy of my Master's graduation ceremony, I was sexually assaulted. To this day, I have a difficult time talking about it and calling it rape. Through the guise of working in student affairs and being a support system for students who have experienced sexual/domestic violence, I thought that I was untouchable and immune to such an incident. How naïve I was to think this...

That evening I had gone out with friends and brothers. We were celebrating the company of one another and ended up in downtown Denver. Drink after drink, shot after shot, we consumed an unimaginable amount of alcohol. This was a typical night as a student at DU. However, it ended in a drunken stupor across town. We visited multiple clubs and bars, danced our asses off, and as the night went on, I also became more promiscuous. I flirted with many, I kissed more than two, and I ended up dancing with you. Our eyes continued to catch one another on the dance floor, our bodies touching, and our lips connecting. But all of this was a blur to me. The day after, I was told that I was enjoying it. 

As we closed down the dance floor, we took an Uber back. I remember laying on my bed and you crawling in. I remember how my clothes were slowing being taken off. But what I remember the most was the guilt of saying no; of coming up with every excuse I could come up with to say no. You started off caressing me and kissing me. And slowly but surely you took my body and power. There was no protection during this intercourse and I couldn't move - I could no longer say no - I was frozen with fear and regret. So many thoughts were racing through my mind as you shook me to my core yet I was no longer able to speak. After this happened, we laid there in silence and you fell asleep. I was awake the entire time - contemplating and reflecting on how I got to this point. To blatantly put it out there - I was sexually assaulted by a friend - someone a trusted and cared for. This is the most daunting part of the whole ordeal. He was a friend. 

Shock – Immediately after the incident, I felt so numb. The next morning, I left my apartment calmly, leaving my perpetrator still asleep. I did not cry. Why couldn’t I cry? I got into my car and drove off to work. I recall breathing heavily as I drove to the mall. 

Disbelief – On my drive to work, I asked myself whether that really happened. Like a cassette tape, I tried replaying the events of the evening. Trying to find the moment I took a wrong turn.

Embarrassment – As I parked at the mall to bring myself back to the present, I began thinking what will people think of me? I can’t tell anyone? How did this happen to me – me?! 

Shame, Guild, Denial, Fear – I feel so dirty, like there is something wrong with me. Like I was plagued by a mysterious sickness. I am so afraid of so many things. Will I get an STD? Can people tell me what’s happened to me? Will I ever want to be intimate again? Will I ever get over this? I’m afraid I’m going insane. I immediately called a friend to process this and that's when I began crying. I blamed myself for this happening. I was the reason this occurred - at least, that's what I told myself.  Throughout the day, I thought, if only I had... I even considered that it was just a one night stand, we’re friends, I’m sure it didn’t mean anything. What’s a hookup in the gay community anyway? And with this thought, I tried to convince myself that it was just that. I was moving in a couple of weeks so there was need to ever go back to this experience. I can bury it, right? 

Powerlessness – Will I ever feel in control again? A large piece of who I am was taken from me – my agency and my voice.

 "It gets worse before it gets better." 

Anger, Anxiety, Depression, & Isolation. These were some things that I went through these past two years. I wanted to hurt him. I wanted to hurt others. I wanted to hurt myself. I wanted the power back that I lost without permission. I trusted no one and I was skeptical of others. To this day I feel the consequences of this experience and I often times have flashes of this memory - reminding myself that this could happen at any given time...again. 

And now we come full circle.

Many male survivors go on to have depressive and suicidal tendencies, problems with relationships, psychological disorders and trust issues. As part of the LGBTQ community, I realize that people within this community face higher rates of poverty, stigma and marginalization, which put us at greater risk for sexual assault. We also face higher rates of hate-motivated violence, which can often take the form of sexual assault. Moreover, the ways in which society both hypersexualizes LGBTQ people and stigmatizes our relationships can lead to intimate partner violence that stems from internalize homophobia and shame. These are things that I am sensitive to. These are the things that I constantly carry with me in spaces that I'm in. Most importantly, these experiences have allowed me to gain my voice again. 

Other experiences of being assaulted at Denver Pride 2017 and other encounters have caused me to distance myself from my friends and family. The shame I still feel for having this happen to me is unbearable. As someone who advocates for safe spaces, I still feel a sense of pain. I'm slowly processing these emotions and hopefully by writing about it, I am able to address it and move on....hopefully. With some reflection with my therapist, I am able to face my issues and shed some light on why I lost many friendships and no longer trust people immediately. For me in particular, sexual abuse carries a level of shame and stigma undercutting the very notion of my masculinity long after the incident had passed. I am wanting to move forward...and this is how I am doing it.

I am moving forward - in confidence, in self-assurance, and in power. 

Unapologetic and relentlessly honest.

Writing has always been a sort of escape for me. A way for me to process my reality and to remember them somehow. We often reflect back on where we've come from and think about what we want to accomplish. But in doing so, we often leave out or forget specific instances from those moments -- I don't want to do that. I want to make sure that I remember how I felt and what I thought about. So here's to the process and here's my attempt at understanding life as I navigate through spaces. 

Similarly to archaeologists, when they uncover lost civilizations and they unearth these worlds that have long since been destroyed, you know what they find most often? They find stories: ancient languages, words, inscriptions from people who have been gone for thousands of years. Because chances are they, like you and me, wanted to know, what's the point? And they wanted us to know that they were here. They told stories and they tried to make sense out of their lives and their worlds and their tragedies. So that's what I'm hoping to do. 

I want to begin writing again - about everything and anything. I want to write about my memories, my passions, my goals, and my journey through life.

The following quote has always stood out to me:

"We often put pen to paper in times of devastating tragedies and we try to make sense of it. Maybe we'll find clarity in some of those words. And maybe, just maybe, we'll find peace. And more often than not, writing about our experiences help to free us from the chains that we placed on ourselves." 

As I sit here in a local coffee shop, I am making a promise to myself that I will continue this blog and share my experiences with people. For too long I've hid behind private blogs and feared criticisms from people and in doing so, I became comfortable sitting back and silently watching. I am not perfect, nor is my writing. But it will be helpful. Whether to myself or to someone else. It will be helpful. And I need to remember this. 

So here I am - unapologetic and relentlessly honest. My name is Jeffrey and I've always aspired to be a writer so here I go. Thank you for reading and I hope you come back and share my experiences with me.