I interviewed this person back in 2018 for my oral history project. This individual is a talented artist and a humble feminist. The person’s story explores the journey of reconstructing painful memories and trauma. It intersects with gender identities and queer relationships.

Warning: the following post includes sensitive, heavy topics such as abuse, illnesses, violence, discrimination, death, suffering, and pain. Reader discretion is advised. Copying or forwarding the text is strictly prohibited.

I have been blaming my surroundings to reason why I wasn’t feeling good. I was like, “Oh this makes sense, think about where I am. Things will get better, things will get better” — and I still felt so dark. Yeah. And then that’s when I started dating someone else too and that was a whole slew of drama and really surfaced the power dynamics in my relationships and really resurfaced this one night that — we’ll talk about — that I had been ignoring and — [pause] just basically I was like, by December, like “Holy shit,” like “I don’t know who I am. I feel so lost. I am so unhappy.” Yeah.

I feel like so much better. Well, I will say . Then in January, I basically was like — so low that I was like, “I need to…” and I told my mom, “I know I need to make change in my life and it’s not going to be graceful at this point but I need to make changes.” And I was talking specifically about my relationships. So those relationships ended soon after, and I got back in one. That was a big thing. I moved out of my house, and I moved in with my dad [redacted] — this past year. That was a huge huge thing — and I really had to gather my strengths to do that; I had been thinking about it for months, and I finally just — I remember one morning just waking up and I wrote — I dramatically was like — I was so mad — I dramatically wrote a check for the months of rent and I handed it, and I was like, “I’m leaving!” [laughs] Yeah. And in January I started going to therapy. So that was really helpful. I started going to therapy and by the time I moved out of my place, I got out of that.

Well I guess in therapy , and I have been healing, I’d say my default survival mode that I’m trying to unlearn is kind of being passive. Doubting my own reality and like — defaulting to other people’s — like needs, and people pleasing. I don’t think that’s all — not all is that helpful to my survival.

I would say something that I am excited that I’ve learned and I’m learning that’s advocating to my needs is to figure out what’s true for me and to not necessarily merge so quickly with the other person’s experience […] almost empathy to a default. Or it’s just, there needs to be a choice around when to be — I just am trying to be conscious about when I choose to feel about other people’s things and baggage versus just unconsciously like taking on a world of issues when I have things to handle for myself.

So, this is the night that I would say that I was violated. It was while I was living in [redacted] — in this very dark environment that I had explained to you. And, I had gone to bed early and my partner came home — and I think that she was had been drinking, I’m not really sure. And I’m not going go into the details because it’s too hard, but basically , just like — [long pause] insisted on having sex despite me saying “No.” I think I must have said “No,” 13 times — until I finally was like, “Fine.” [long pause] Anyway, I had a lot of feelings that night, and I couldn’t sleep. And I remember the next morning, we were getting up — it was the day when my sister was moving out — and, she had moved her couch outside, and we were in the front — so I was sitting on the cou—I had left the room early because I couldn’t — it was just so weird to be next to — sleep next to her — where it’s supposed to be home and that didn’t feel like my space, and it especially didn’t feel like my space after that night. And we were sitting on this couch outside, and I was just like, “Oh my fucking… what the…” just overwhelmed. And she came out, super super like upset and like, was just like, we started talking, and she was like, “I feel like I raped you last night,” and just was really upset, and like I went into — I was like, “Oh no. I need to reassure her,” and I remember just being like — I mean, I remember like “Well I’m really mad because we considered ourselves as feminists” […] This isn’t that. Like, what the fuck? Like, what is this? Like, this is not us. This is not you. Like, why did this happen? But ultimately I was like, “I don’t think it was rape.” And then I remember just going on a walk and crying and just being like, “What the hell?” and I didn’t know. Like I had been dating her for so long — I had moved home from [redacted] and a huge factor of moving home was our relationship.

And so I felt like — I couldn’t bring myself to call it “rape” and I still — I honestly still — I will say I was “violated” because I had so much shame because this was someone that I had given so much of my life into — reoriented my life around.

I still couldn’t believe that that had happened. I remember I had told one friend on that walk, and then like after that I didn’t talked about it for so long. And my sister was like so confused, she’s like, “Why are you balling?” And now, she’s told me she really didn’t like the power dynamics between me and my ex. And she now knows what had happened that night, but I had felt like I couldn’t tell anyone. She was just like confused, like, “What’s going on?” Anyway , so that was that night, and I think how that has so much — like the fact that I immediately went into reassure this other person mode — and like looking back now , I’m like, “I was the one who needed that reassure” — like I was the one that was violated. It’s just an example of — that is obviously the upmost example.

I think my — I think the fact that it was a queer relationship somehow blurred the line in my own mind.