Tag: rape

Were you drunk? What were you wearing? Why didn’t you fight back? Why did you post your story online instead of reporting it to the police? The commotion that follows the sharing of sexual assault stories makes people question the victim's intention – is it the attention you’re looking for? People who ask these questions often assume that sexual assault victims have control over the situation. They assume that the victim could have done something more to protect him or herself. We grew up believing that the good will be rewarded and that the bad would suffer so it is hard to accept that a completely innocent party could have such a terrible thing befall them. However, rape and molest is more than just unwanted sex or an unwanted touch, they are a form of social violence. Sexual assault violates the most private aspect of a person and victims are often rendered helpless, stripped of control. I would know because I’ve been there.

Sexually Assaulted … By A Friend

“Eh, my friend finds you cute. Can give your number?” Maybe I was less apprehensive and cautious back then. I hesitated but the typical line that followed was enough to tip me over the edge – “just make friends only la.” The 13-year-old me didn’t pick up on the red flags that came with being called ‘cute’. How naive. I should have known better, he wanted more than friendship. I turned him down, but we continued to text. When we met up, we were mostly in big groups and always in public. Maybe being in the friend zone was his trigger, maybe it was the way I rejected him. It started with an urgent message. “Can meet at the lab? Urgent.” Isaac was leaning against the pillar and staring into space when I reached. I stood next to him panting, trying to catch my breath. I thought he would open up about his family problems like he normally does, but I was greeted with silence. As I waited for him to find the strength to talk about what happened, we surveyed the school. Suddenly, I felt a tight grip on my wrist. The cold pillar against my back was a stark contrast against Isaac’s body – blood rushing through his veins, he was warm and throbbing as he forced himself on me. I clenched my teeth but I felt his tongue against my gums and his teeth against my lips. Struggling beneath his weight, I tried to look away, to shrug him off, but he made his size and strength known. I slumped my shoulders and squeezed my eyes shut in surrender. Then he finally released his grip. It was going to stop. He was going to stop and apologise. But he didn’t.  His hands found their way under my skirt, brushing against my inner thighs and moving underneath my safety shorts to more private areas.  I froze. Then the bell rang, signifying the end of my break. I had to go back to class but Isaac wasn’t ready to let me go. I spit into his mouth and tried pushing him a bit harder. “Please. I need to go back to class.” Once I pulled myself together, I shuffled back to my classroom. A huge wave of red crashed over me. Why didn’t I try to kick him? Why did I spend so much time with him? What was wrong with me? Normally, I wouldn’t blame the victim in such situations, but now that I am the victim in question, it’s different. After that incident, I isolated myself from all my friends. How could I trust anyone? It wasn’t long before I spiralled into depression. My teachers picked up on the sudden change in my behaviour and my self-mutilation habits landed me in weekly sessions with the counsellor. People tell me I am so damn lucky that it wasn't rape, that my sadness and mental illness was merely my over-thinking. But I won't consider being pinned against the wall and felt up by a trusted friend as 'lucky'. I wasn’t raped but I was equally betrayed and humiliated. He made me dirty. No amount of soap and prayer could erase this stain.

Opening Up

I had promised myself that I'll take this secret to my grave. I knew how these things unfolded. A twist of words could turn me into a harlot. I could easily be labelled a dramatic bitch who ruined Isaac’s life with a jail sentence. My determination to keep mum was met with equal strength from my counsellor. She peeled back my layers and I eventually spilt the dirty secret. With every word I spoke, I felt a little lighter, a little better. The sense of relief was short lived; the end of my story was only the beginning of a chain reaction I wasn’t ready for. My counsellor told the discipline master and he told my parents. Then, the school told the police.

Facing My Parents

I was terrified about how my mother would react. However, my parents didn’t probe me further. In fact, they didn’t say anything at all. Coming from a typical Asian home, we never even discussed kissing. Naturally we wouldn't talk about my ordeal either. I could only guess what their silence meant. Am I lesser of a daughter in their eyes or were they disappointed in me? Did they feel like they failed to protect me? This uncertainty of not knowing how my parents would react prevented me from reporting the incident. I didn't want to disappoint my parents. I didn't want to risk losing their love and support because I had already lost so much of myself. When I have children, I’ll establish a safe space to talk about all aspects of sex. I’ll start by discussing first kisses, relationships and other forms physical intimacy at home. I wouldn’t avoid the topic of sex like it’s an unnatural and uncommon occurrence; if they ever encounter a sexual assault, they'll know they can count on me. When the nation can talk about sex without feeling embarrassed or ashamed, we can talk about rape and molestation without fear.

Held for Questioning

The school was obligated to report the crime but I was reminded that I had a choice in pursuing this matter legally. I chose not to. Even though I was attacked and degraded, it didn’t feel like I was worth defending. I let Isaac go because he had taken something that was of little value to me. Being 13, I didn’t understand the importance of self-love enough to treasure myself and my body. I wanted to put the incident behind me as soon as I could but a few days later, my principal asked to see me after school.

“You’re not the only girl.”

That one line changed my mind. I didn’t see a need to seek justice for what I went through but God forbid he does it to another girl. I just wanted to move on but how could I let him get away with what he did to other girls? It’s difficult to love yourself when you’ve been violated, but I didn’t want anyone else to suffer, hence I agreed to a further investigation. I made 3 separate trips to the police station where they confined me to a small room with a different police woman each time. I had to repeat what happened 3 times to strangers. Each time brought that nightmare back to life and each time felt as invasive as the actual incident. The last questioning session lasted for 2 hours. It was so emotionally tiring by then. My brief description couldn’t satisfy them. When I left out details on purpose, they’d ask questions to fill up the gaps. It was like reliving the experience over and over again.

Life After the Nightmare

People jeer at girls who share their #MeToo stories on social media. They say it's a shout for attention and that girls should just report it to the police instead. Fellow survivors of sexual assault, don't let these people shake your ground. They don't understand how reporting your attack doesn't guarantee justice; many perpetrators just like Isaac only get away with a warning. Even if you were willing to pursue the case, your anxiety will make it impossible to talk about the 15-minute attack for 2 hours in a confined room. These people who call you attention whores don't understand how hard it was to believe it wasn't your fault; by the time you found courage to fight your attacker in court, the incident would have been too long ago to make a case out of it. It's just so much easier to be honest with strangers online than with our kin and kith. Writing this article was easier than hearing my discipline master tell my mother what happened to me. For some of us, sharing the nightmare in a tweet or Instagram post is the only form of justice we will ever get. Keep sharing your stories of survival because it's also how we can empower each other – those who suffered from sexual abuse and those who might suffer the same fate in the future. This month will mark the 4th year since it happened. It took me a long time to arrive at this conclusion: Not having the strength to fight back isn’t an excuse for someone to attack me. Being friends with him wasn’t an opportunity to touch me. To whoever has been violated, I hope you know that you've already survived the worst. Healing is the easier part.
STORY IS ADAPTED FROM AN ORIGINAL RECOUNT SHARED TO US.
Also read, I Bared It All For You But It Was Barely Love
Many of us consider Singapore to be a relatively safe place. We don’t hear many stories about people getting sexually harassed, and rarely do we hear them told from the victims themselves. Yesterday, a question posted to Reddit Singapore asking “Women of /r/singapore, have you ever experienced sexual harassment?” sparked a flurry of responses from women detailing their experiences with sexual harassment, revealing that this may be more common in Singapore than we realize. 1. Many times. The one incident that happened on public transport when I was 16. Gotten on the MRT and noticed this guy who kept staring at me. I walked to the other side of the train and he followed. When the seat beside me cleared up, he sat down. He wasn't local, probably around late 20s - early 30s. After a few stops, he turns to me and asked in mandarin, "You want to come to my house and watch porn?". I noticed he was holding his phone and it was a naked girl on his display. Replied him loud enough for everyone to hear that if he asks me to watch porn with him again, I will report him for sexual harassment. He noped out of the MRT pretty quick. - saltides 2. Yes, plenty of times, but one particular incident stands out to me. A few years ago I was riding on a bus and some old hamsup ticko sat next to me. He struck up a conversation by asking me for the time and we continued making small talk about general things. The longer we talked, the more personal his questions got. He eventually started asking me where I lived, what school I went to, why I was going home this late at night (it was only 10pm, wtf). I deflected most of his questions by giving fake or really vague answers. I was getting super SKETCHED OUT and was planning to switch seats until he dropped this bomb on me: [Appraises me up and down] "For a small girl like you, you have really big boobs" I noped the fuck out of there at the next stop. - wandxrlust 3. (1) Not me, but my friends. Sec 1, they were just walking around those neighborhood shops when they notice a man following them around. They run into a toilet and hide in cubicle hoping to evade him. Several minutes pass and they don't hear anything so they go out. As they stood in front of the mirror and do as all 13 year old girls do (i.e selfies with Motorola razr), a cubicle door opens. Lo and behold, it's the creep. He approaches them while they stare into the reflection in the mirror. They were too scared to scream or run. He holds out his hand asking for some soap. One of myblonde friends (not making fun of blonde angmoh girls but my friend was like the stereotypical blonde air headed bimbo type) told him "You can press the soap machine and take yourself." He smiles at her and asks her to pass him some. Her, being dumb af, pumped some soap into her palm and pours it into his hands. That's when she notices that he has his dick in his other hand and was wanking off. They all notices it at the same time, scream and takes off running into a nearby LAN shop where a few ah bengs decide to help them out and hunt for the guy. Never found him. (2) I worked in a kitchen as part of my internship and had some ungodly hours to clock. One night, I took the last 857 bus home. If you know 857, you'd know the passengers. They're mostly Bangladeshi construction workers. It was a Sunday night and the entire bus was packed with construction workers. Not to be mean or anything, I am pretty tight with some construction workers around my housing area and regularly talk to them. Most of them are hardworking and nice, but then there's the 5% that just ruins everything. Pretty sure all 5% of the bad apples were in that bus that night. I had no seat and was squashed up in a corner. I felt a hand grazing my butt every time the bus jerked. Decided to give the guy the benefit of the doubt; maybe it was an accident. But when the bus hit a stop light and I found a hand on my ass... Oh boy. That ain't no accident. I turned around and glared into his eyes. Pretty sure I shot lasers that night. He got the message and left me alone. But I had another thing to survive - getting out of the bus. My stop was coming up next after a hellish hour on that bus. I was really far from the exit and had to squeeze through everyone. I was like… the only girl on that bus. And I could not count how many hands were on my body as I tried to exit. It was the scariest and most disgusting thing I’ve ever felt in my life. I went home to scrub myself after that. None of them were accidents. I looked into their faces as I exited and as I said "excuse me" and they were LAUGHING and smiling at me as they groped me. #FYOU - lunaelly 4. When I was in Sec 4, this senior of mine asked me to come down to his house so that I could collect some guidebooks from him. Slightly sketchy but his dog was super cute and I trusted him to not be a dick. Never was I so wrong. He threatened to rape me. I put on a false bravado and basically told him that I would fuck him over if he tried. Scarred for life afterwards, and still have a slight fear of all men to this day. - kat-xuan 5. (1) Man on the train kept brushing against my butt in a rocking motion while we were standing, it was morning rush but it wasn't that bad. Other people could stand behind each other with a good amount of space. I walked off whenever I could, but this has happened more than once. Men also like to use the crowded train as an excuse to brush against my boobs. (2) I was resting my arms on the armrests in a hair salon and the guy hairdresser who was meant to be a family friend kept pressing/moving his crotch against my arm and would stand necessarily close to cut my hair. I was about 16 or 17 at the time. I moved my arms, didn't say anything and waited for the nightmare to be over. Never let him cut my hair ever again. (3) I worked as a beer promoter when I was about 15-16? Can't name the brand, but it's a fairly popular brand here. Old men would constantly ask 'Little girl, come serve us ah' when I was only meant to promote it at a store. Constant wolf whistling. I was scared and soft spoken back then, so I didn't say anything. (4) Surrounded by guys who think it's okay to make rape jokes. One dude said to me, when we were alone, "I wish the purge would happen in Singapore. Then rape can be legal." I was horrified and I told him off but I'm pretty sure he still wants it to happen. (5) I was walking and this old man was walking in my direction. As he got nearer, he (looked to be about 60-70+ years old by the way) and and said "WOW!" really loud while ogling my tits while I speed walked. I was already about five steps before my brain processed what he had done. I was wearing a normal, fitted star wars shirt and this happened yesterday outside a MRT station. - moleskines 6. Friend says he needs to pee after drinking at Clarke quay. On his way home on the cab. Calls and asks if I can let him go up and pee cuz it's urgent and the cab ride is far away. I say ok. Comes up. Pees. Leaves bathroom. Starts getting touchy. Drag me to my bedroom. Mouth covered. Dunno why parents don't wake up. Starts forcibly kissing. I say no. But he was so drunk like, I think he wasn't responding. Drunk people are actually really strong. Vagina bleeds for the next few days. Dropped all the friends from that circle immediately. - hieveemonster 7. Working in F&B for a while now. My male colleagues kinda see me as a bro and they joke about sexual stuff. But sometimes they get a little too… Eh… Idk the exact words for what I am describing but these are what my male coworkers have said to me: "How big are your boobs?" "Do you like big dicks?" "You must be damn tight." "Wanna go out to drink? Let's get drunk and have a one night stand. I promise to make you scream." I usually shut them up with some sarcastic reply but it only works for a while. - lunaelly 8. Dude stalked me on the way home. When I got into the lift, he stopped the doors from closing and started to jerk off. I vividly remember that he has a very small member... I was 19 then, and a late bloomer, I panicked and screamed. He booked it. Then I threw my bag at him but missed. Some people came around because of the commotion and told me to go to the police. They weren't really kind, they made some sarcastic remarks too. Then I went to the police station nearby and waited for my mum and sis to come pick me up. - PrimAndProper69 9. My best friend once had a guy sit next to her on the bus, and just started to jerk off right next to her. Fuck, just last week some guy pretended to be a buyer on Carousell and kept sending her dick pics. - samleecx 10. Yes a couple of times. The scariest would have to be when I was 12. I was on the way home from school in my PE uniform (tee and shorts) and had fallen asleep on the bus. I was sitting on the inner seat closest to the window. I woke up to an old uncle stroking my thighs. I was too scared to make a big fuss, so after I tried getting him to stop once, I just got off a stop earlier. - strangerrocks 11. Fell asleep once on the bus, woke up to find the guy behind me had slid his hand between the seat and the bus wall and was stroking my waist. Another time on the MRT, this guy started easing his hand under the schoolbag on my lap and started stroking my thigh. - halfbakery 12. (1) A guy once stuck a piece of paper with his phone number in my bra when I bent over to pick something up. (2) When making a police report, the IO asked about the color of my bra/asked if I want to see ‘his gun’/told me to feel free to send him ‘photos’. - elmachosierra 13. When I was working, I had a particularly cheeko co-worker framing his lewd requests as jokes and asking me to let him "touch (my) boobs, just once" (should I mention, while pointing a knife at me, we work in a kitchen) or openly checking me out and intentionally making it known to me. - saydoubleokay <a href=" Image Credit