I had a wonderful childhood. Some may even argue I had a privileged one. All I can remember was laughing. Getting these ridiculous laughing fits about things I don't even remember about. I always found the humor in everything. I always found the time to be happy and joyful about everything I saw and came across. Oftentimes, I find myself wondering how that little girl is doing now. Someone who would throw kindness in the air like confetti and spread joy to everyone she met — because she was so vulnerable, open and honest to every single person she met. That little girl was only being herself as she knew how. She trusted so unconditionally.
Now imagine someone so reserved, so secluded in her own fears and anxiety that she would not only belittle herself to other people but also to her own self. Doesn’t seem like the same person now, does it? What happened, you may ask?
I am a survivor of sexual assault.
I am a survivor of sexual harassment.
I was violated. I was betrayed.
Violated by trust.
Violated by innocence.
Betrayed by the promise of human rights.
Betrayed by the promise of the right to freedom.
Never anything close to what had happened had ever happened before. So who was I to know that it was not something that was normal or decent to have happened? I know I speak for a lot of kids and teenagers that when you hit a certain age you simply just want to fit in. Acting or behaving in ways that was never taught to us, that was foreign to us and that was way ahead of our time.
Being someone who spent their life moving around the world a lot, when I arrived at a place that was supposed to keep me safe, keep me protected, keep me intact with my own rights as a citizen — was supposed to be home. Turns out it's where I felt most alone, most afraid and most hurt. I had just arrived and like anywhere else I observed the culture, retained the language and vernacular, spotted certain societal norms. I was surrounded by a sea of new friends, new knowledge awaits and turning a brand new page on a story yet to be written.
I excelled in many things right away and it felt like I haven’t lost touch on the things I loved most doing. Then I met a boy. Like many others, you can’t write a life story without love. I was smitten. He too excelled in the things that he loved most doing. It just turns out that the things he loved doing weren't limited to only the football field. He excelled in manipulation. He excelled in grooming. He excelled as a predator. He excelled in being the bad guy in someone else’s story.
Like many survivors that were harassed at a young age, I really examined every choice I made, every move I made, I really blamed myself for everything that had happened to me. Which of course took a toll on me, left me drained and empty. There is a reason that your teenage years are called your ‘formative years’ because my trauma was now embedded so deeply with how I was formed. I think blaming myself for what happened has been the most painful thing I had done to myself. It was hurting myself over and over again, because we were taught that we could control how others perceive us, how others should treat us and how others should respect us. Most importantly, women and girls tend to believe that we can change others, change their spouses, change their significant other. Maybe we inherited that silence from the generations before us that had only kept their hopes up throughout their lives. That someone hurting us, meant that they love us. “Because they would not have bothered, if they didn't” said a young mother once, when I was assisting her in her session with a therapist, the morning after her husband had left her bruised and injured. It hurts my heart to get around that fact. To have whole generations before us that was silenced under false pretenses and false hopes.
Which is why unlearning is the most crucial act a generation that follows can do. I’ve had to carefully unlearn everything that has formed who I am, haunted by the heavy breathing of my predators, their slippery hands violating my body, the weight of their threats, and their manipulative kindness. People say ‘don’t let trauma define you’, which is true. I am much more than my trauma, much more than what has been done to me, but my trauma will always be a part of me. The sooner I acknowledge that and shed the stigma and the shame of even talking about it, the closer I am to becoming who I truly wanted, which is free.
I think I crave freedom more than anyone, or I just define freedom differently than anyone. I want to be free to be whole, to be free to experience peace, to be free to be proud of anything and everything that happens to and with my body.
I needed a form of self-care for myself, that goes along with the journey of my healing. Taking a walk seemed like the easiest thing to do, but when you’re taking a walk whilst trying to make yourself as invisible as possible, it becomes a challenge. You need to make yourself as invisible as possible in these streets as a woman. Wearing layers in broad daylight, a choice women have to take in order to ‘hide’ themselves away. As if our bodies were sin, as if our mere existence threatened the lives of the men on the streets. Rather be safe and sweaty than harassed and left in a ditch. Men have taken it upon themselves to bother every one of us on the streets. From bluntly asking for our prices to disguising their verbal harassment as a religious greeting. That is how deeply rooted patriarchy is in our culture, behavior and day to day manners. How women should endure those types of comments when all we want to do is make a living, is how normalised it has become. Men take it upon themselves to make sure every woman on the streets is smiling, because it makes them look more beautiful, what a sense of control they have. How men have put themselves so high on the pedestal that they think they are allowed to demand anything from a woman. Women don’t owe anything to anybody except themselves.
Enough is enough. It starts with you. It starts from within. When a mother tells her daughter to dress nicely, behave a certain way and look a certain way around male relatives or guests, it sends a message to the daughter that her only worth is her appearance. When her daughter tries to let her mother know that someone has done something terrible to her and her mother silenced and doesn't believe her daughter just to avoid the neighbors from finding out, it sends a message to the daughter that her voice doesn’t matter, that she was wrong. When a father gives away his daughter to the first man that comes along just because of a longstanding tradition or financial beneficiaries, it sends a message to the daughter that she is not loved, that her choices don't matter and that there is an amount big enough for her worth.
Days felt like it was getting longer and longer. The more and more people that have ignored, dismissed and silenced me. The more and more people that didn’t believe me. It was simply comfortable to stay quiet, portray a whole other persona that only left me further and further away from finding out who I truly was or could become. I felt like I was never going to even have the chance to find out who I could become. I only wanted to dissapear. I wanted to die.
I was raised in a progressive home, very open-minded and feminist household. I was raised to never depend on anyone else but myself. I was raised to be strong and independent. Which made my healing and letting go a very difficult thing to do, when all you do is replay every single incident where I wished I had the strength to fight back, to remove myself from all those situations, to get a sense of justice, and redemption. That is what’s amazingly terrifying about a sexual attack, it immediately changes you, the effect is that instant, it could paralyze your every muscle. I knew it was wrong, I knew I was being violated, I knew I was uncomfortable. I didn’t have the language for it. I didn’t know it had a name. At every instance, I just wanted to disappear, I wanted to get it over with, I wanted it to end. You can be the most badass woman alive, but when you are staring manipulation right in the face you are immediately conflicted. I truly think it’s a testament to how intuitive our minds and bodies are, that no matter what you practice or what your training is , you can still turn out the opposite of everything you believe in the face of danger.
I remember an incident in class after school, after my middle school homeroom teacher had left the class of course, this group of boys would lay down in line all through the door so that when I left, they would take a look under my skirt. I would also remember when one of the boys would graze their hand under my skirt through my thigh while we were being partnered up for a science project. I would remember the time when one of the boys would block my every move when I tried to leave class just to then smash me to the wall to kiss and touch me. I would also remember that at every one of these incidents, I was in a classroom filled with what are supposed to be my peers of female and male classmates, who just let it happen. Who then would tease and bully me behind my back accusing me of being worthless, or a slut. That’s how I remembered middle school.
All through high school, I faced more and more predators, I realized that the world was filled with them and once you are faced with one they would never leave you alone. I was still receiving threats from the predators in middle school, by then unsolicited photos were constantly getting sent to my phone and this was before social media. Predators had gained more than power and control over your body if it was going on for this long, they had also used you for financial gain and hostages for their reputation.
The only thing that kept me alive was my dreams, I had so many of them, I wanted the opportunity to try to pursue them while I was still able to breathe. I think that's when I learned the power of a dream. I kept working hard, I was focused, I kept picking up the remains of my heart everyday when it kept being broken by not only predators but also bullies and non-believing adults. Everyday I hoped that these remnants would keep me going for just another day, just until I fulfill a dream. I was more and more grateful, practicing grace everyday, and started to rely more and more on my faith. I was thankful. I started building myself up again by myself, creating outlets and pockets of joy. No joy and achievement was too much or too little for me. Steadily, one by one my goals started to check themselves off. Suddenly, a sense of pride little by little started to collect. A sense of self then followed. I realized that faith was all you need for a dream. I took inventory of all the relationships I had in my life, relationships with myself, my family, my partners and my friends. I could judge them accordingly and made the changes that were needed to accommodate the life I wanted to lead. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could make a difference. I was loving this journey of finding out who I could become.
But then again like I said, no matter how badass you think you are, at times you are again faced with terror, you can slip back to who you once was. Yet , this time I was taken aback, I was shocked and surprised at how I was able to manage myself. I fought back. Even though, this time I was alone in a foreign country pursuing my higher education, it turned out I was growing, I experienced my progress firsthand. When this senior tried his best to groom me from the beginning of the night, then isolated me — took my cell phone away and separated me from my friends, he manipulated me using the notion that he was under the influence but when the time came when I know if I was to have done something different, something terrible might have taken place and I wouldn't be here, I fought back. Not only that but I experienced how it felt to have people help me, comforted me with safety and warmth, believed me and how truly powerful support is. How different it felt to have people believe me.
I also got to experience justice, I got to feel how it was like to have a sexual assault case be taken seriously by an institution of education. I got to experience getting rid of a sexual predator off campus. Right then and there I found my purpose, my calling as to why I am kept alive all this time when it was so easy for me to die. I am here to seek justice for others. I am here as the voice, the voice that you can count on, the voice that would help others tell their tale. I dedicate my life to be that voice, because I realize that most survivors will never get justice but survivors can change the way they look at their trauma. I am here to say that trauma can uncover your innermost strength, strength you never could imagine someone having. Trauma can light a fire so big inside your soul that you can channel towards living a fulfilled life of gratitude.
I am also here to say that healing is not a destination, it most definitely is a journey. Everyone’s healing is different. But you get a new day, everyday to play out your journey in your own way. Don’t be afraid of change, because change means progress. Progress can lead you to be strong for others, when most of the time you felt so weak for yourself. Sexual assault and harassment unlocks how evil we can be towards each other as human beings. How years and years of systemic misogyny can lead to generations of broken souls. No one should live a life feeling incomplete, women or men, because anyone can be a victim to sexual assault and harassment, It’s not about the way someone dresses, it’s not about walking alone at night, it’s about abusing power, abusing patriarchy to gain control over someone else’s life, degrading and disregarding them as human beings.
For the majority of our life, we are taught every knowledge there is to know in school, yet we shed our compassion, our empathy, our touch. That is just as important, if not more, to be taught and practiced during our formative years.
You can’t help anyone else, before you help yourself. It is a privilege to have the opportunity to heal. It is a power to be able to say that I am strong but I can ask for help whenever I need to. It is a pleasure to be able to get to know my body everyday, as every curve is a reminder of how much your body needs your love especially after it has gone through such extreme pain. Change is in your hands. It is difficult and you will have bad days. You will have relapses, and it’s okay. Allow yourself to heal at your own pace. Slowly you will realise just how powerful your thoughts are, your words are and your mind is. When you even think to put yourself down, or compare someone else’s healing to yours, or blame yourself again for what happened, your body might believe it. It will hurt even more. Remember when I said what hurt the most was that no one believed me? It hurt more because I was one of them. Put down the blame in order to start your healing. Forget about revenge, start to practice forgiveness.
I never wished ill upon my predators, as I know there might be a reason they behaved that way. There might be a reason why they thought they needed to hurt someone else so badly simply to validate themselves. I too wish them healing. I wish them unlearning. I wish them forgiveness towards themselves.
So, as you lay in your beds tonight, going to sleep. I want you all to remember a time when you were most hurt, acknowledge that pain then thank yourself. Thank your strength, Thank your growth. Because you deserve it.
To all the survivors out there, who have crossed their paths with me or are across the world who may never know me. Whether you tell your story, whether you keep it to yourself or whether you only share a little bit. I would like to say that I am proud of you. I believe you. I see you. I support you. I hear you. I am fighting for you.
Citra is an activist from Jakarta, Indonesia. She is the founder of Tis The Lyfe, a community of volunteers that accommodate a safe space for all volunteers. She is also the author of Pleasure Girls, a collection of writing recounting her journey through womanhood. Citra has been very outspoken in demanding equality, women's rights and pleasure activism.