I am One In Five

It started off like any other workday. I came in, said hello to my assistant manager, clocked in, and began my 8 hour day. We had our usual chat about how his boys were growing up so fast and how proud he was. The things we didn’t like about work, the crazy customers, we cracked jokes, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. We decided to clean the store by section; I did one half of the store, he did the other. I finished my area when he hugged me from behind, lifted me up, and started touching me up and down. It began at my stomach, then he touched my breast, then his hands made their way to my butt. It was all quick motion; I had no time to react. He started saying stuff in my ear. I froze. I told him to stop, he didn’t. I said stop again, and he stopped. I walked away. I couldn’t believe that had just happened. No, that didn’t happen. You’re just stressed and overwhelmed. Just keep doing your job, keep a safe distance. There’s no need to report something that probably didn’t really happen. That night I was restless. All I kept hearing was the chilling sound of his voice.
The moment replayed over and over again. I cried, I prayed, and I was finally able to fall asleep. The aftermath of the first assault was minor. I just didn’t want anyone hugging me, including my boyfriend at the time. Every time he tried hugging me, I was quickly transported to that moment. I would snap and urge him to stop being so clingy. He always looked so confused, so hurt. I just couldn’t tell him what had happened. What if he didn’t believe me? Because I couldn’t even believe it myself. What if he did something reckless that would ruin his life. It’s better if no one knows.
A few months had passed, and everything was back to normal at work. We continued to work together twice a week. I kept a safe distance, and there was no indication of it happening again. It was a slow day at work, so I kept busy cleaning and putting out products. I’m walking towards the back of the store, and that’s when he did it again. He picked me up and touched me up and down, but I yelled, stop before he got to my breast. He looked at me confused, and I walked away. I avoided him for the rest of the shift. I still couldn’t believe that happened, so I decided to forget that it did. Who is going to believe me anyway? My relationship with my boyfriend became progressively worse. We already had so many issues, but my lack of intimacy worsened everything. Whenever he hugged me or touched me, I felt disgusting. I felt guilty because another man touched me. Sometimes I even pushed him away. I stopped taking care of myself to be less attractive to my boyfriend and others. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror without having flashbacks and crying. I hated myself; I hated my body. Working was becoming unbearable. I lived in fear of going to an isolated spot in the store because at any moment, he could attack.
He attacked me for the last time. Same as last time, he waited until I was in an isolated area. He grabbed me, touched me, moaned in my ear, and called me sexy. I froze, then he let me go. Like nothing happened. I felt absolutely sick to my stomach. I just let this man do this not once, not twice, but three times. I didn’t want to report him. I didn’t want a constant reminder of what happened. I just wanted to move on. My relationships with people were different for a while. I didn’t want anyone hugging me, so I didn’t interact much. I developed an even more profound hatred for my body. I couldn’t even look at myself naked or in lingerie without wishing my soul didn’t inhabit my tainted body. Being in isolated areas made me feel like I would be attacked. I would have flashbacks triggered by the most random things. I decided the best way to move on was simply to take the blame. I must have contributed someway.
I didn’t report him, so it was bound to happen. I buried the memories deep down. I convinced myself that it never happened. He eventually transferred to another store, so living with that lie became easier. Unfortunately, he ended up assaulting another girl. However, she reported him. Everyone kept saying they didn’t believe her, that he would never do that. I should have said something, but I didn’t. He lost his job his wife and screwed up his life. I guess people do whatever it takes to feel powerful even if it means hurting innocent people along the way.
I never intended on telling my story. This was supposed to disappear in my memories, that was until I reconnected with my ex-girlfriend. She and I were talking on the phone. I told her how much I’d changed. That I didn’t like affection or had very little sexual desire; that’s when she asked, Ivelisse, were you sexually assaulted? At that moment, all the memories flooded back. I couldn’t deny it anymore, and I no longer felt a need to. I was seen, I was understood, and that brought me peace. The notion of it being my fault, the fear of being looked at as a victim, didn’t matter. I am one in five women who have been sexually assaulted.