"Honey, I have had A LOT of bad sex"

This post was initially published on my blog on January 17, 2018. 

I am re-posting today on January 18, 2018. 

I wrote this blog so women, and men, who have experienced any form of sexual assault or harassment will identify and feel they are not alone in struggling with their feelings regarding these issues in their own lives, the lives of those they care about, and the increasing media coverage. 

Upon publishing the original blog, I received criticism. Many were concerned about my personal wellbeing while publishing such intimate experiences on the internet. While I recognize the risk this poses, and I appreciate the genuine concern, as someone who feels a deep sense of responsibility toward the emerging social movement, as well as a need to advocate for those who do not wish or are unable to advocate for themselves, I feel a sense of duty to stand by my choice of expressing my thoughts. 

I am a woman who has experienced sexual assault.

I am a woman who has experienced sexual harassment. 

I will not let the stigma associated with these terms, as well as the societal constraints posed on women's sexuality, impact my voice on such important issues. 

Additional notes:

While I am in full support of the movement surrounding women's sexual rights, the need for consent, the need for mutually comfortable and satisfying sex, and the end to sexual harassment in the workplace, part of me feels men have been overlooked. While the majority of those who have experienced such things are women, we must not forget men experience assault and harassment as well. Their stories should be heard, shared, and believed. 

Additionally, as women in the United States begin to stand up and tell our stories and demand change, we must also recognize and bring to light the injustices throughout the world. While we advocate and push for change here, we cannot forget that as feminists our duty does not solely limit ourselves to the systemic social issues in the United States. 

In advance, I want to thank you for taking the time to read this post, and I hope you respect my decision to re-post the blog's original content. 

I claim to be a feminist.

I am a woman who wholeheartedly supports other women.

More importantly, I believe other women.

If this is all true, then why was it so hard for me to read the recent post on babe.net about Aziz Ansari’s sexual assault? Why was it even harder for me to believe Grace’s story was truly assault?

A recent blog post featured on a page called “KatyKatiKate” highlights my emotions perfectly. In a sweet but sad way, the author discusses the social transformation that is occurring when women realize all of the “bad sex” we’ve had in our lives, isn’t just bad. It’s morally wrong. It’s violating. It’s assault.

If Grace’s story is assault… then what? What happens to all women who have had a similar experience? Have we all been assaulted? How do we accept that? How do we cope with that?

If her story was to be considered sexual assault, then nearly all of my sexual experiences are assault.

Where does that leave me?

It’s a terrifying question, and I often joke about it a lot. Girlfriends talk about sex. With me, a chronic over-sharer, I really talk about sex. Yet, I will rarely open up about the countless times I have felt like a prop, a toy to be used, just something to “get his dick wet.” Instead, I laugh it off and say “Honey, I have had A LOT of bad sex, trust me” *sips (chugs) glass of wine*.

You see, coming out and claiming #Metoo is only part of the battle. What about the other countless narratives that have yet to be told? What about the countless hours of therapy I have yet to have because I never even discussed sex, sexual assault, or “bad sex” with my therapist? What do I do now after realizing truly do not know how to be intimate with someone without feeling like I am standing outside my body, watching myself have sex?

I thrive on vulnerability, and I pride myself on being able to open up and discuss my feelings. Why is this particular subject filled with so much more pain? More shame?

I guess I was playing right into the stigma.

For the first time probably ever, I am at a loss for words. I wish I knew what steps to take to deal with this lingering feeling of emptiness. I wish I knew how to cope with the fear of ever attaining a healthy sexual relationship because all I have ever had in my adult life is a series of sexual experiences that leave me feeling belittled, unimportant, and unworthy of true affection and care.

Usually, my blogs are lengthy and have some sort of “silver lining,” but not today.

What happens now?

I’m not sure, but I know I’m not alone.

I hope others reading this feel less alone too.