my 2 brothers and I helped a host an event at our house where one of the guests was a survivor. Our 4th housemate organized it.

I’d like to think we would not sit on our hands.

1986

One I managed I get away from before it happened. One I was not so lucky. Both men were acquaintances. The last one nearly put me in a battered woman's shelter. I stayed, instead, with friends and from then on always had a small baseball bat with me where ever I went, even when I went to bed.

Because I knew these men, and it was Texas, I knew nothing would happen to them and I'd be dragged thru the mud for nothing. Took me years to get over them, and that was after coming out of an especially raunchy divorce. Amazing I ever wanted to look at another man. Luckily, I did. I married my best friend's brother; the love of my life. We've been married now for 37 years. He truly embodies what it means to be a feminist in a man's body. Supports me in every way possible, and he went thru some rough years with me in the early days.

I don't blame any woman who doesn't want to report a rape in the world we currently live in. My experience was 30+ years ago, and as far as I can tell, things haven't changed much since then. We're still fighting the same old fights as we were back then. I weep for the future daughters I fought so hard for in my teens and 20's.

Mine was marital. That was before Greta Rideout, whose name is barely remembered these days. She is my hero.

My own, fifty one years ago.