I told no one when I was sexually assaulted.
That's just what boys did when they got drunk.
It's not that I didn't think anyone would believe me, although I'm sure I suspected as much.
I knew no one would care, best case, and it would be turned back on me, worst case.
This weird middle ground where we are meant to believe the victim right up to, but not including, identifying her attacker was never part of my decision tree because it is just too stupid for anyone to actually believe. Seriously, literally NO ONE actually believes that.
I was absolutely 100% correct to keep my goddamn mouth shut.
My daughter heard loud and clear. My son's girlfriend heard loud and clear. My daughter's best friend heard loud and clear, and we had a wine infused night of grieving and wondering why in this country one can sexually assault women with impunity, and then attain a position where you get to decide what those very same women who have been sexually assaulted, domestically abused or raped get to do with their bodies.
If Bill (that was the actual name of one of my assaulters) came up for public office, I wouldn't breath a word.