I was in a coffee shop that I used to frequent the other day, and I took a moment to thumb through a journal that's always tucked in with the magazines. One of those perfectly worn, coffee-stained, "we left an empty notebook to see what would happen," sort of things. The kind with character. That particular journal has been sitting on the shelf since at least 2018. I didn't think it would be the same one when I went back, but it was. I have a single entry in it from April 29, 2019. In shaky, tiny text, I had written, "My body has not been my own in years." I still feel that way and have felt that way for a long time now.
For this year’s Sexual Assault Awareness and Prevention Month, I am revisiting a recent favorite, Shout, by Laurie Halse Anderson, and Smear, a new, female-led collection of poems edited by Greta Bellamacina. Both do a beautiful job breaking down what it means to live in a female-presenting body. In reading these works, and with a trauma anniversary fast approaching, I have been thinking quite a bit about what it means to be a strong woman in society, especially within the context of rape culture. How do we as a generation learn to speak out when our mothers and our mothers’ mothers knew only how to swallow their tongues? How can we become a different type of strong? Not a silent strong, but a loud, uproarious, scream-at-the-top-of-your-lungs sort of strong.
I am grateful for all the survivors who have shared their stories and paved the way for me. Despite how horrifically common sexual harassment, abuse, and assault is, especially amongst women, it is an isolating experience. And so, I cannot stress enough how important it is to believe the victims or survivors or whatever it is we are. There is power in speaking out, and there is power in validation. We deserve to feel powerful in our own bodies because autonomy is a human right.
For more information on sexual violence and resources for survivors, visit https://www.rainn.org/.