A Survivor Speaks: Enough Really Is Enough

Views from a Ridge

Revelations about presidential candidate Donald Trump's bragging about sexual predation have exposed the reality that every woman faces every day – the prospect of sexual assault. Many Americans have come to the same conclusion as First Lady Michelle Obama in her Oct. 13 speech in New Hampshire: Enough is enough!

Mrs. Obama is right: this is not something we can ignore. The Centers for Disease Control have determined that 1 in 5 women will be a victim of sexual assault in her lifetime. According to U.S. Department of Justice's National Crime Victimization Survey (NCVS), an American is sexually assaulted every 2 minutes. The National Sexual Assault Hotline reports that 9 out of 10 of sexual assault victims are women (see chart for details).

I am one of them.

The physical, emotional and spiritual wounds inflicted by that assault from my young adulthood have shaped my life in terrible ways. I trace some of my physical ailments, especially cyclical clinical depression, to the aftereffects of the attack, which I kept hidden from everyone for more than 30 years. I'm still trying to get over some "fight or flight" reactions. I viscerally recoil at being hugged from behind, because that's how my attacker trapped me. Surprises frighten me beyond a normal startle response. Men of certain statures and with certain behaviors terrify me because subliminally I associate them with my attacker, and I react with anger. I'm getting better, but there are still hyper-vigilant behaviors that I can't suppress.

So why do I risk relapsing into post-traumatic behaviors by speaking out now? Because enough really is enough.

Just as African-American families must have "the talk" with their sons and daughters about what to do when (not if) they're stopped by police, women for generations have had to have "the talk" with one another about how to respond to men who view women as objects of their power gratification. Yes, I said "power," not "sex," because sexual predation isn't about sex, it's about exerting power over another. It's about having someone penetrate your innermost physical being against your will, destroying your sense of being a sacred creation made in God's image. Donald Trump's assertion that "when you're a star, they let you do anything," precisely describes this sin: it's about having the power to force others to satisfy your lusts, including physical gratification. (I have become convinced that this is what Paul really meant in Romans about men have sex with other men, not about loving, committed, mutual same-sex relationships).

"The talk" about sexual predation is very nuanced, covering responses to everything from a sexual remark to groping to actual physical assault. I need not reiterate the specifics here, because they've now become part of the national conversation. As far as women have come in being able to live with dignity, underneath we all still quake with fear that we will be violated without our consent. One in five of us know that fear from personal experience.

Why did I wait so long to "come out" as a sexual assault survivor? I've been doing so privately for about 10 years after I finally sought therapy for depression and post-traumatic stress disorder. Aside from some oblique references, this is the first time I've ever written a public column about what happened, and I'm scared. 

One only has to see how the public and the media are treating the women who allege being assaulted by Donald Trump to understand why so many of us keep quiet after we've been violated. In many cases, a man who sexually attacks a woman is in a position of power over her – if not the power of life and death, then at least the powers of reputation and of livelihood. Often she won't be believed, or those closest to her will blame her for being the victim. The shame and disbelief are often harder to bear than the physical wounds. With rare exception, women don't lie about being sexually assaulted, but men, and some women, refuse to believe them.

So we've learned to hide our wounds in order to go on living, and to be there for our families, especially our children. We give in to survive. It's why we women travel in pairs or in groups. We avoid groups of men. We avoid men who constantly put us down or otherwise abuse us emotionally, which is always a signal that physical assault may ensue. We adopt subservient attitudes and postures while inside we seethe with fear that leads to anger. And we shouldn't have to do any of these things in a decent human society -- including in the church!

Some denominations, including our own United Methodist Church, started in the 1990s to confront sexual abuse within the religious institution. The General Commission on Status and Role of Women maintains a website, UMSexualEthics.org, with information on dealing with sexual harassment and abuse when it occurs in a church setting. Yet we still have a long way to go in confronting and condemning the rape culture running rampant in America today, and in providing healing ministries for its victims.

Now in my maturity, I know that I won't ever be completely free of the effects of being assaulted. Whenever a post-traumatic behavior begins to manifest, I still have to reassure myself consciously that I am safe and in control of my environment. Every time I'm prone to a bout of emotional eating, thinking that if I get fat and ugly I won't be a target, I have to remind me that such behavior isn't really taking good care of myself. Every time I get unreasonably angry over nothing, I have to stop, breathe and say to myself that there's nothing to fear.

But there is. Until "enough is enough" prompts us to overcome the rape culture that says it's OK for men to assault women and girls sexually, the fear will always be there. 

A journalist for more than 40 years and a certified spiritual director, Cynthia B. Astle serves as founder and editor of United Methodist Insight.