The news of Harvey Weinstein’s repulsive history of sexual assault has sparked a deluge of social media posts from men and women alike detailing their experiences as sexual assault survivors. As a sexual assault survivor myself, I, too have participated in the movement, and for me, nothing has been more cathartic than getting the millionth fucking chance to share this harrowing experience from my life on the internet.
It’s amazing how freeing it feels to finally be able to speak out about sexual assault the eight hundred thousand fucking times a year it’s in the news.
The story of my assault is a traumatic one that I wouldn’t necessarily post on Facebook or Twitter on any regular day, so I am grateful that the revelation of a powerful man sexually abusing women is so goddamn common that it gives me plenty of fucking opportunities to share my survivor story with other women. I will never forget the relief I felt when I finally shared it during #RapeCultureIsWhen, and then again during #YesAllWomen, and again during #FreeKesha, and a-fucking-gain today for the currently trending #MeToo. It’s a blessing and a comfort to know that I now have a platform to get the frustration, anger, and pain that comes with sexual assault off my chest, and that that platform will continue to come up over and over as long as not a damned thing changes in this godforsaken world.
The release I’ve felt today and on a shit-ton of similar days over the past few years has been absolutely enormous.
I’m lucky that I live in a time when I get the occasion to bare this painful and personal part of my soul probably once a motherfucking month.
I have seen many people using #MeToo to unburden themselves of their stories of rape and assault for the first time, and I would like to hearten them with the knowledge that they will surely be able to do so again when another hashtag along the lines of #ItsBeenMe or #SurvivorsUnite or #PutAStopToIt crops up within the fucking week in response to another high-profile assault case. I hope I speak for all of us when I say it is incredibly cathartic to use my own story to educate others about the magnitude of this problem and then essentially copy and paste that same post every time this pervasive and horrifying issue rears its ugly, shit-caked head like you’re screaming into the fucking void.
The release I’ve felt today and on a shit-ton of similar days over the past few years has been absolutely enormous. I am grateful that I feel safe enough to be able to talk about this universal problem. I can only hope that my posts will inspire another man or woman to share his or her story for the first of one bajillion goddamn times—because to finally do so, and then to be moved to do so again and again without fucking end, feels amazing.