Rape

[CN: sexual assault] It happened to my mom, three of my best friends, and then it finally happened to me. Like so many women, I never imagined I’d face such a terrible violation, let alone that I would have to struggle to recover.

[CN: rape, victim-blaming, mentions of sex work] I felt violated. I felt angry that no one had stopped him, or stopped me from going outside with him. That no one had noticed how intoxicated I was. That no one had cared. And most of all, I felt utterly confused as to why I still allowed him inside my house after everything that had happened.

I was questioned about my sexual past — a past filled with consensual partners and an affinity for whiskey — and quickly deemed to be an imperfect victim, a deviant who was sexually active far too often and for far too long to ever conceivably tell a man no.

I’m working on an essay about the time I was raped my freshman year of college. For the very first time, I’m naming my perpetrator. Even if it’s only his first name, there’s still so much power in it.

I just found out that my rapist is dead. Not only is he dead, but he ended up killing a lot of women. I always wondered if he would rape again, but I never thought he would graduate to murder.

Excerpts from the film has created an earthquake of public reaction, splitting India into two sides on sexual violence.

We don’t understand rape. We don’t understand consent. And we’re not—even a little bit—here for victims.