Sexual trauma is more than rape. “A letter to the Almosts”

A couple of years ago, when the Me-too movement was at the top of the news, I stayed mostly silent. Not because I was not caring or understanding what was shared, but because as one of the few women who never experienced rape or a sexually abusive relationship, I thought I should count my blessings and let the ones who “really suffered talk”. The simple fact that I’m one of the lucky exceptions is actually horrific. The fact that I even dismissed my own pain as not “being enough” is proof this should be written about.

I’m grateful my body was never taken against my will by a family member, a caregiver or a stranger. Nevertheless, I experienced many Almost, many scary moments too close to home and the pain I developed in my lower belly because of them is far from minimal.

So here is my letter to the Almosts. The almost rapists, the almost aggressors, the fears and the dirty encounters that kept me ashamed of my body for way too long. Time to let you go and reclaim my power.

• To the elementary school teacher who threatened us with bare bottom spanking: words have impact, especially in the mind of a five or six-year-old who visualizes what you say as truth. You were an educator who taught us fear and shame when the only thing that should be taught to children is Love. I couldn’t comprehend then how wrong you were.
  Today I say to the little one I once was: I love you. You are beautiful.
• To the men sitting at the street corner in their cars, stroking themselves as children were coming out of school: you are sick, and you imposed your illness upon innocents. Whether we were coming out of elementary, middle or high school, in Paris or in any other city I lived, seeing your car parked there made me sick and ashamed. You thought you were hiding in your metal box, but your choices made me want to hide inside of myself. Today, I free myself.
• To the movie theatre manager who dismissed twelve-year-old me when I came alone to watch a Disney cartoon on a Wednesday afternoon and had to escape from the theatre in the middle of the movie: yes, maybe that man taking his penis out and stroking himself next to me was “not dangerous”. Maybe “you knew him” and maybe “he would not touch me”. You chose to defend him instead of a frightened teenager, and that makes you as guilty as he is. As an adult should have protected me. As a young girl, I should not have had to leave to be safe. As a woman I tell you: You were wrong. He was dangerous and you were his accomplice.
• To the man who stopped his car to ask me for directions then grabbed my arm and tried to pull me into his car: I’m glad I hurt you when I kicked the door on your dirty paws. I wish I could have screamed louder. I wish another driver was brave enough to stop and help me when I was running away from you. I escaped. That seems enough but it was not. I kept running away with the belief that as a woman I would always have to be afraid of men. Today, I stop running and face you. You are the pitiful one. I am strong, I am brave, and I will continue helping strangers because I’m not afraid anymore.
• To my mother who continued cooking and told me to “get over it “when I came back after my biggest scare ever: Look at me! You are guilty in your own way. Once again, I had to escape danger in the middle of the day, in the streets of Paris. A group of teenagers fighting accosted me, pushing me, menacing me. I was fourteen and when that man in a dark suit told me that he would help if I followed him, I did. When he told me to run, I ran. When he pushed me inside a building, and tried to close the door behind me, I found the inner strength to fight in a way I had never fought before and I then ran all the way back home for safety. There I found a Mom who would barely put a bandage on a gaping bleeding wound. I know Mom, you never had someone who really cared for you and you didn’t know how to care for me, but I needed you. I needed you to tell me that what happened was not normal, that I was safe at home, that my feelings where important, that even though the world can be dangerous and insane, you were here to protect me. You didn’t. I forgive you.
• To my first boyfriend who locked the door of his apartment behind me and rubbed himself against me until he came: you were a stupid, despicable, worthless piece of shit. Thank you for not penetrating me when I told you I was still a virgin. Besides that, you left a bad taste on what a relationship should look like. Almost forty years later, I never lock the door of a bedroom and I never let anyone hold me if he hasn’t proved to me he’s safe. Thank you for teaching me to listen to my gut feeling. I knew you were trash. I should have trusted myself instead of you.
• To the man who didn’t stop when I told him I was not ready to have sex: You are a rapist. Whether you want to admit you were wrong or not. NO is a full sentence and you should have listened to me and backed off. You put your needs before my wellbeing. Thank you for making me realize that I’m the most important person in my life and that any man who doesn’t respect me should not be in my life.
• To the rich guy who put his hand on my butt at the bar of a fancy hotel: Yes, French women are sexy. Yes, French women are beautiful. Yes, French women are Free. Free to choose to be touched or not. I still hear the sound of my hand slapping your face after I told you to stop a second time. I still hear the silence in the bar that followed that slap and the voices of your friends who dragged you away. Being a beautiful, sexy, free strong woman doesn’t give you the right to stroke my arm, my back or my butt. Wearing a dress, is not an invitation to touch my leg. Yes, I slapped you in front of a room of wealthy, powerful, arrogant men. The women nodded and smiles their understanding. I’m proud of it.
• To the nurse who made me ashamed because they suspected I had an STI. You are not deserving of a job founded on the principle of caring. Like me you are a woman and you made me ashamed and feel dirty when I was at my most vulnerable. Women are supposed to support one another. You don’t know my story. You don’t know who I am or what I went through. And even if I had an STI, that doesn’t make me broken or less than. That makes me woman, that makes me human, and as so I should be treated with respect, compassion and love.

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As I’m re-reading all these “Almosts”, these rapes that were not, or almost not, these moments of fear and shame, I’m grateful I was so lucky. I’m so proud of my resilience. I celebrate those instincts which told me to run away, push away and fight back.

To the Men who were the perpetrators or the accomplices: I am your mother, your daughter, your sister. By attacking me or using me, you hurt all the women in your life. Look at yourself in the mirror and feel the shame you tried to impose on me. I hand it back to you. I don’t want it. If you want to get rid of it, you will have to forgive yourself. I’ve already forgiven you.

To my Mother, you didn’t know any better. I shouldn’t have to be raped to have you pay attention. A mother is supposed to love, to care, to protect. You tried. Thank you for teaching me to be self-sufficient. I’m proud of being the loving, caring mother I am to my children and I celebrate you finally becoming more of a loving mother as you age.

To the Nurses and the Doctors. Healing starts with love. Love is often the most powerful prescription, more efficient than the strongest medication. Non-judgment is just the beginning. Kindness goes a long way.

To you Women, you know who you are. I feel your pain and I’m sorry. Depending on the report, one in three, one in five one in six, women declare they experienced sexual violence in their lifetime. Forget about the statistics. I don’t know a single woman who hasn’t been aggressed, harassed, scared, almost raped. Those Almosts may seem like a gift and yes, they are because you ended up being safe. But Almosts are not to be discounted. You are not meant to be discounted. You are valuable, lovable, worthy, important. Those Almost left scars, so love yourself a little more. Celebrate you, the Warrior who fought back, the Smart one who ran away and escaped, the now Goddess who steps into her magnificent self. Never let anyone, step on you or put you down. You are Woman. Celebrate your body, your lessons and your victories. Celebrate being alive and share your light unto the world.

I’m Dr. Fabienne Slama (AKA Fab), the founder and owner of FabYOUlicious.

Transformation Coach and Un-hypnotist, I awaken magical humans from the lie that they are too much or not enough. We play on the subconscious level, healing family traumas, past lives and reparenting inner children. My goal: helping you remember the fabulous, limitless, confident sparkle of joy that you are, so you can manifest success at home and work.