By Jalauna Phillips
(TW: Sexual Assault)
I remember in elementary school, when me and my friends would play outside during recess and nothing else mattered. We would play tag, house, make up dances and find other ways to entertain ourselves. As we were playing, the boys would always come and annoy us. They would ruin our games and mock our dances. It was always playful and silly but thinking of these times reminded me that I have always known how to set boundaries. From physical boundaries with sticks laid out as lines not to cross to verbal boundaries of screaming at people to leave me and my girls alone.
As I sit here and reflect, I am reminded of the times that the boys would break the sticks between us and scream back.
It breaks my heart that no matter how emphatic you declare a boundary, people will still find a way to cross it.
During my freshman year of college, my dorm was the place to be. There were six of us in an apartment style dorm, three rooms, two roomies in each. Our dorm was decorated in an eclectic array of posters, Christmas lights and random nick knacks that we just had to bring with us.
One night, we had a few friends (I say friends in the loosest way possible) over and we were just chopping it up like college kids do. People started to fizzle out and by the end of the night, it was only four of us, me, my roommate, a guy she was talking to and his friend.
I was the least bit interested in this guy. I was enjoying having friends over and the friendly conversation. My roommate and her guy started cuddling up and I think that gave the other guy the impression that we were in the same boat. He started to touch me under the covers, and I immediately got up and told everyone that I was going to bed.
As I entered my room, I turned to see three people behind me. Ummmm… okay?
My roommate asked if it was okay if her guy stayed the night and I said, “sure, as long as yall don't have sex.” She agreed and we headed to our beds. As I’m laying down, I sense a figure standing above my bed.
“Can I help you?” I ask.
“Scoot over.” the friend demands.
“Ummm.. I am going to bed” I responded.
I turned over. Then this motherfucker climbs into my bed. I still haven't scooted over so this demon is moving me over with his truck of a body. He began asking if we could have sex. I refuse. He asks again. I refuse again. He begins telling me how lame I am and how my friend was doing it so I should too.
I looked up what happens to the brain during traumatic events. Apparently, there are three parts of the brain that are affected. The first is the hippocampus. The hippocampus is responsible for forming and retrieving memories, spatial awareness (awareness of your surroundings) , learning and emotional responses. This part of your brain shrinks during traumatic events, affecting how you process memories and emotions and how you respond to stress. The second part of the brain that is affected during traumatic events is the amygdala. The amygdala is responsible for how we process fear and pleasure. It organizes physiological responses based on the information that it has access to. During traumatic events, the amygdala increases in volume. If the amygdala has an overload of stress and trauma, it will cause you to react to triggers more intensely. People with an overactive amygdala may respond to normal events how they would to traumatic events because that is what their amygdala has gotten used to. The third part of the brain that is affected by traumatic events is the anterior cingulate. The anterior cingulate is responsible for decision making, problem solving and emotional regulation. During traumatic events, the anterior cingulate shrinks, negatively affecting how we make decisions, solve problems and how we respond emotionally.
After I was forced to scoot over, my brain shut off and all of my rational thought processes evaded me. He began touching me and I couldn't do anything. For so long I asked myself why I didn't scream at the top of my lungs for him to get out or why I didn't just get up myself.
Everyone knows flight, flight and even freeze, having to do with the three parts of the brain that I just mentioned, but most people don't know about the fourth option, fawn. Fawning is the act of “pleasing the person threatening you to keep them happy.” Fawning makes you give up personal boundaries to ensure your own safety.
Before he was able to get his own pants down, I snapped back into reality and turned towards the wall and began weeping. I cried myself to sleep and somehow, when I woke, that motherfucker was still in my bed. The morning sun was beginning to shine through the window, and I couldn't comprehend how or why he was still there. I finally got up and knocked on one of my other roommates' doors. She let me in, and I spent the morning crying on her bed.
I shook it off and proceeded to go to class. Only to be bombarded with snapchat messages from the demon asking how other people knew what happened and how I was spreading lies. The only person that I told was my other roommate. But I guess my actual roommate, who was indeed having sex with her guy, heard what was happening and told a few people.
I ended up meeting with him, his friend and my roommate to discuss what people were talking about. I was still in shock and had no idea what was said during that “meeting”.
It took a while for me to articulate that what I experienced was sexual assault. I thought it was only when a man inserted himself, but in a way, I guess he did. It wasn't until I saw an image of two women at a MeToo protest. One woman was proudly holding up a large sign that said MeToo, while the other lady meekly held up a smaller sign that said MeToo. In the last frame, the lady with the larger sign grabbed the hand of the woman with the smaller sign and held it up. Just typing it out moves me to tears. That image alone made me realize that sexual coercion is still sexual assault and that no matter if someone touches you or forces themselves on you, your story still matters.
You're probably asking, “Jalauna, why are you sharing all of this?” I'm glad you asked!
There is someone out there who is blaming and questioning themselves for something that happened to them. They set their boundaries, but someone stepped over sticks and screamed back. They believe that their experience isn't worth attention and healing.
I see you. I believe you. And I love you.. so much!!
I am still dealing with how this experience affected my brain, but I am not afraid to share my story and offer comfort to those who are still dealing with it. You are not alone.
This is my tribute to Sexual Assault Awareness Month and verbal flowers to all of the survivors out there. I hold your hand, and pray that God regulates your heart and mind.
Love & Light always,
J
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