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Recent Stories
I was 3 years old when I was raped. I actually suppressed the memory for 30 years. When I was 33, I started going to hypnotherapy because I was struggling with depression and with getting close to men; neither were uncommon experiences for me. I had been struggling with both for as long as I remembered. It's crazy because I really just went to hypnotherapy as a last resort because I couldn't stop being sad. I have so many people that love me but I always felt so alone. The same year I started going to hypnotherapy, my brother had a baby that was stillborn at 8 months. This tragedy really shook me to my core because I couldn't bear the thought of my brother hurting. But it also put me in touch with emotions that I didn't realize that I had. I was able to see that I wasn't just numb. I had a wall that was separating me from my emotions. This wall was making me sad, very sad. I went to hypnotherapy to understand why I had this "wall". The hypnotherapist hypnotized me and asked me what I was "protecting". I told her my vagina. She said can you release the need to protect your vagina? I saw myself taking a long chain out of my vagina and at the end was a lock and when I took this lock out I saw myself bleeding profusely. As soon as that happened, I saw my uncle (who was 15 at the time) on top of me, raping me. I saw myself go to the bathroom to wipe myself off and I saw myself giving him a hug. I had felt like I should apologize for bleeding. I was three. I felt like I did whatever he wanted me to do wrong and that is why I bled. The hypnotist asked me if I believe what I saw and I told her that 98 percent of me thinks it is a lie but the part of me that knows knows its the truth. I didn't really share this with anyone spare a few friends because I wasn't sure how to handle what I saw. However, a couple months later I started getting really sick. I have ulcerative colitis and fibroids and both started to get inflamed at the same time so I was bleeding both rectally and vaginally. I went back to the hypnotherapist and she told me I wasn't going to get better unless I told my story. A couple of months later I was with my parents and decided to tell them. I had no expectations for the conversation but knew that "telling my story" was something I had to keep doing. My mom was really shocked and told me she didn't understand how it was possible that I wouldn't have said anything. I told her everything centers around a time when they were away and she left me and my brother alone with my aunt and uncle. I told her that I felt like I did something wrong and that my uncle was protecting me by not telling anyone. Meanwhile my dad was silent. He is not a man of much words and it honestly hurt for me to say it to him because I really didn't want either of my parents to hurt. After about 20 minutes, my dad finally said to my mom, "You know, I remember around that time, we found blood in her little panties. We thought she fell." Sheer horror went across my mom's face and then she immediately looked down and returned to her knitting. For me, it was confirmation of what had happened. I ended up confronting my uncle with my brother, but he vehemently denied what happened. It's been a year since I accepted the fact that I was raped. Since I was so young and had suppressed much of the memory, what I deal with the most are overwhelming feelings of worthlessness. I am working to accept the emotions and to find the strength to truly love myself but I often find myself slipping into depression. I pray and I pray and I pray that someday I will get to the other side of that worthlessness and experience my true self; at this point I feel like I have only experienced glimpses. But that hope and the hope of helping others keeps pushing me forward in my darkest moments.
I was 21 when i met that guy and we were seeing each other casually. I thought he was alright. One time we were having sex and it suddenly started to hurt a bit. I asked him to go slower but he wouldnt listen. It started to hurt more so i asked him to stop. It started to hurt more and more and i kept asking him to stop but he kept going. I freaked out and i started to cry, scream and shake but he kept hurting me. I tried to get up but i couldnt because he pinned me down on the sofa and i couldnt move. When he was done he went to the bathroom and i was still on the sofa, crying and shaking uncontrollably. He came back and asked me why i was crying. I said that i cried because he hurt me and i asked him why he did that to me why did he not stop when i asked him to. He said sex is supposed to hurt otherwise its not real sex. Ladies of all ages out there, rape can happen even during a casual intercourse with your partner. Once someones starting to hurt you or do something that you makes you feel uncomfortable in any way then you have the right to refuse. If the person keeps going then theyre abusing you sexually and they should be punished.
I had just turned 15 when I met Tate (not his real name.) He was 19, out of high school already and hung out with a bad crowd. I had never done anything more than kiss a boy before and I hadn't planned on doing more for a while. I ran into some trouble at home so I left and found Tate who took me in, let me sleep at his house (which was a trailer he shared with 5 other people who were also older than 18, people who should have thought something was wrong with this.) That night I lost my virginity while under the influence of illegal prescription medication, I was a troubled kid but that doesn't make what happened to me ok. I was numb from head to toe so I didn't feel it the first few times, but the morning after I was in a lot of pain and had hoped to find some comfort and solace in this near stranger who took my virginity. Why I trusted him, I don't know. I've berated myself for this over and over for years. Why why why why why did I let this happen but statutory rape IS rape. Young girls often times don't understand what they're getting into. This person then told me that the pain would go away if he did it again and again. I was hurting a lot and I cried and covered my face and told him to stop but he kept telling me over and over, I am going to make it better baby just be quiet. I didn't understand what sex was supposed to be like. I just didn't know. I thought it was like that for all girls and so when he stopped I just wiped my face and made myself forget about it. In the weeks following he would do that many more times. He would call me and threaten to come hurt me or my family, he would call and just yell at me for hours. Sometimes he took me in front of his friends and did sexual things to me while they were in the room and then brag about it. I was a quiet and shy girl back then so when ever he did sexual things to me I just didn't say a word. Sometimes I saw some of those people in the hallways at school and I'd be so embarrassed. I didn't realize it was rape because I let him do it. I used to think I was just too cowardly and I was stupid for letting this happen, but that was five years ago and just recently I came to realize that statutory rape is a BIG deal. It wasn't ok what that person did to me and it's never ok when an adult preys on anyone, especially a minor. I never told anyone, so he is still out there preying on girls who don't know any better. I wasn't the first and I won't be the last. I am too ashamed to tell anyone and I wish I had the courage to tell the police but even today I don't think I could handle if my family found out. The best thing I can do now is heal in my own time step by step and to share this story with you. Young people, If your brain tells you something is very wrong than it is. You have so much worth, no matter what anyone tells you, you have a voice and you need to use it to say no, you need to use it to stand up for yourself and never let someone abuse you sexually or otherwise.
Only 13 years old and I had run away from my home. Where my mother would beat me and drag me around the floor because I refused to understand her. I ran away and hitchhiked on the highway right before marathon, 7 mile bridge. A man stopped and asked me if I wanted a ride. Indeed I did with such adrenaline and innocence. I believe in my heart this man was no threat. I was wrong he drove slow on the 7 mile bridge and asked me for a favor. I didn't understand what he meant but he said 100 dollars and hearing that all I can think of is money for me to buy clothes or eat food. Of course he placed his right hand on my left knee. It is so vivid because what I was feeling at that moment is that I did not understand at all. Why does his hand feel clammy and icky? Why all of a sudden I can hear him breathing. No at no point did I think he was going to rape me because I did not understand that. I was a virgin. What the hell is sex? I shook my head and was almost going to burst into tears. That’s when he dropped me off in the middle of the 7 mile bridge. I got out and he drove off. He stopped while ahead and then backed up and said he will give me a lift to next town. I accepted. Still not understanding the devastation of my choices. I hate myself for not caring, for not choosing to be afraid. I was supposed to be afraid. All I feel is disgust in how I didn't care of what the future can hold of my actions. But he did not rape me he dropped me off. You can see his guilt and the perversion that I could not wrap my mind around was fading. There was this scent I can smell from his nostrils and I can’t explain it it’s the same in any encounter I am in. It could be the hormone...I don’t know. I was a constant runaway and my story is larger than this but for now it’s about this pain that eats at me. 13 years old and my first encounter with a pervert didn't scare me enough but encourage my curiosity. Because of my run aways. I was sent to the children's shelter in the keys. I was attending the school there until several high school boys held me down and ripped my shirt off and put their hands inside me. My bottom was wet but in a strange icky nonstop supply of wet. My feelings were terribly hurt and I was terrified to go to school. I became truant and at this time truant added to your time in the shelter. I lived in Florida. The director ended up sending me away to another shelter called the bridge. The most terrible place I could have ever been too of my life. I was still a virgin and I never had sex. I was 13 years old at that point I was desiring sex because I’d hear about it. Sex was painted on walls and admired. Woman were painted beautifully because of sex. While in the Shelter which was located in homestead, I had refused to eat. I was terrified to eat. I don’t know why. When it was time to do chores, I cleaned the bathroom where a boy pulled me in the bathroom and started grabbing my little breast I had. I was silent and just observing what he was doing. I don’t understand why I froze. I simply just did not try to stop him...I hate myself for this because I always do it and I don’t know why I do. A staff member came and the boy removed his hands from my shirt. When he left I dropped to my knees and started crying because I say I would defend myself but when something happens I just freeze like an idiot. I went to lay down on a couch. This was several days later. I had fallen asleep and awoke with a boy on top of me. He was rubbing his private part on my bottom and I didn't do anything. I turned my head and pretended I was asleep. I kept telling myself hurry up, hurry up. So that it can be over so I can be alone. A fool I am that I did nothing once again. These boys treat me like how I felt about myself, like nothing. My mother treating me like worthless shit and of course these guys feel the same way she does. The next day I met a girl in the shelter and she asked me if I would love to run away. I’m 13 years old, it’s the year 2001, and I was at the Miami Bridge located in homestead. I chose to run away. She brought me to a house where I and she were side by side. And there were about 5 men. Of course much older than us. They poured us drinks and passed around the blunt they rolled. I was laughing and feeling good but it was happening to fast. I was getting drowsy. Then bam my life at that moment blacked out. I woke up but I can only move my eyes. My body felt dead and powerless. A man was over my head with his penis in my mouth. I was frozen and yet was frozen even if I was forced to be frozen. I soon passed out again. I couldn't move my lips. They were as dead as my soul in that very moment. I can hear porn and a man whispering "can she do this". But it wasn't clear It just sound like they were comparing. I knew it was porn because the boyfriends of my mother would sit in the room on the bed and put on porn. We would watch it together. So those sounds of background music with moaning and slapping sounds is what I heard in the back ground. I had woke up again. I’m not sure what day it is or time but I know that I had no clothes on and 2 men put a bottle inside me. I can feel pain and sharp burning and something very hot in between my legs. There was a huge burning sensation. I told them stop and they replied to me "ok I’m sorry" I could never move. I'd simply just wake up and have a bit of strength to say a few words and go back to sleep. What’s worse is that I would wake up not feeling them raping me. I would see it. How he was looking into my eyes and I wanted to cry but I couldn't cry. Whatever I drank or smoked has trapped me in this cycle. I'd see pubic hair as I looked up and id fall asleep instantly but with what I saw I buried in my mind as fast as I could. Almost as if my soul did it without my permission. Like it was trying to protect me. In a moment I wanted to die but then instantly that emotion erased from my mind. I couldn't cry or be upset all I simply did was fall back asleep. I woke up again and looked around. This time I can actually feel the fabric under my skin and it felt like I was on a stage. I had to really look this up in my future because this fabric I felt was the rough fabric you would put on speaker systems and huge amps. I was lying on the floor and while I can feel myself on the floor I could not speak or move. An overweight man came in and I swear I couldn't even feel. I could not freaking feel upset or sad or scared. I don't know what was wrong with me but I should have been terrified. I couldn't be terrified. It felt like it was night time but how would I know. It was dark in the room I was in and there was a floor lamp. I was in a daze but I know that a florescent lite aimed towards the ceiling and the texture and fabric I felt under my skin. It was hard to believe but I knew I was naked and not sure if I’m alive or dead but I tried to pray that I go to sleep and forget. That’s all I needed to survive. The man got on top of me and he was very heaving where I was having a hard time catching my breath. I went to sleep. He then came in a second time and I could feel his heaviness a lot stronger. I tried so hard to get words out but I couldn't say anything I was too exhausted and drained. From god knows what. I knew I was drugged but I can’t remember how I was. He came in a third time he got on top of me and proceeded to rape me. Was it rape? I didn't fight. I ended up saying no and for some reason I was strong enough to say no. He said sorry and left me alone. He just said sorry. He told me sorry and I can't fathom why he said sorry knowing what he has done to me. I turned over and went to sleep it felt like a nightmare and for sure it would end. I woke up again and noticed I was in a bed with the wall and corner on my left side. My eyes were aware and men were in an out on me. One man put his hands on my eyes I was relieved because it helped me cry. I haven't been able to let tears out. Every time I shut my eyes I wake up in a different place. And time has gone by, I was a runaway...from the bridge. And the fears of many came true. I wanted to go home but the hate I had for my mom wasn't enough for me to fight. I woke up and the guys that were watching me were watching TV. There was a red banner, and it was the news station. I didn’t know at the time but it was the September 11th, 2001. I'd tell myself today. While I was being raped and drugged people were dying. How could I complain or be in pain still. I woke up again and I heard Spanish conversations around me. I was lying in a bed and I was able to move better this time. I truly felt able to get up. A man came inside, his name was Francisco. He grabbed me with both his hands and dragged me to bathroom and he showered me. I didn’t cry or scream or anything...who would come to help me? No one. HE picked me up from the bath and raped me and this time it hurt. I could feel the ache and soreness from inside me. It hurt so bad that id scream. I couldn’t help it. He slapped me and asked me why I’d scream. I said it hurts really badly. And he didn’t care he faced me on the ground and raped me with my face on the floor. What was the point of the shower? I kept thinking that. Then he left. I put on my clothes that I have been wearing since. I don't remember. But my shirt was a Horace o Bryant middle school shirt and it was the color green. And my shoes were slip on clogs, and my pants they were dark faded purple jeans. It’s crazy how I remember that. It was the safest moment I felt when the door was locked and I was putting on my own clothes...and I was alone. My hair was pouring wet. I walked outside and I started seeing more men coming into Francisco’s house. I looked around and saw a back door. My heart pounded. I wanted to leave but I didn't know where to go. I left anyways. And I ran. I ran as fast as I could. A police officer who saw me running chased me down. I got into the cop car and he asked me questions like my name an age. I gave him a fake name and age. And he tried to have a talk with me about prostitution and living on the street. He thought I was a prostitute. All I can think of is that what I am now? I got out and became afraid if he drove off that it would be my last. I threw a rock and he backed towards me. He was pissed off at me I can feel it cause he yelled at me. I admitted everything. I said I was 13 and from the BRIDGE in homestead. He brought me back and the bridge refused me because I wasn’t in their files. They deleted me. They put me in the garbage. Like I was just some dead girl who is never coming back. The cop yelled at the staff and threatened her. I was a minor and have nowhere to go. So I was brought back in. The world was different now. It was like I can see what these girls see. What sex is and what everyone faces but only in the shadows is where we face it. I answered a questionnaire after a staff member woke me up from a 105 fever in my bed. The answer I wrote down for the questionnaire brought hell on the shelter. The next morning detectives, police department and the director of the shelter came in. The police officers were asking me questions I couldn't understand. And wanted to take me back to where these men raped me. They asked me what they looked like and I said black...They started laughing at me like it was a joke. Because the officer was also black. But I’m not racist and I promise these men who raped and stole my peace were black men and Mexican men and they controlled woman but not any woman. Young girls. During my time with these men I overheard one saying I was a princess. I asked the girl I had ran away with what that means and she said that means underage. The girl I ran away with disappeared. She was beat up a couple times that I can remember but those moments never lasted long enough for me. It’s all in pieces for me. I showed the police the spots I remember that these men would gather up and do their dealings. I think I asked for this. I ran away and I paid for it. Maybe it was better to let my mom beat me up and hate me then now live with real hate every day. I was taken to rape treatment center in Miami but I couldn't go forward with it. They were cold and serious and I can feel. I can feel anger and humiliation and hate. I couldn't look at any one’s eyes longer then a second. I felt every question I was asked was a demand. And I can feel it. Before I couldn't feel it. I was on drugs. I couldn't feel choices. But at that moment I could feel words like a trigger of pain. The doctor told me to take my clothes of and I couldn't do it. I couldn't do it. If I did maybe I could've caught who raped me. All I have is blurry faces in my flashbacks....my dreams and I have them when I’m awake while in conversation. The detective who drove me to RTC-Rape Treatment Center took me to homestead to release me into my mom’s custody. I went home to Key West which is where we lived originally. As I was detoxing I started feeling everything. Pain in urination, pain in my throat. I had to face all this pain that was hidden while it was happening. My mom took me to lower keys Medical center. I had several STD’s and gonorrhea in my throat and an STD that I have to live with everyday till I die. I was 13 years old with diseases, urinary tract infection and damaged urethra and vaginal opening. Two years went by and I was in extensive therapy. I was assigned a jpo, Cins/fins, dcf, there was 6 total agencies on my case...believe I have the proof. I opened up to one of my case managers. He was in a wheel chair. As an adult I confiscated all my paperwork and court hearings and cases to read what I couldn’t read as a minor and the man in the wheel chair. Used my disease as a means to lock me up and my mother was contacted by police to talk about the rapes and she sent them away, My case worker who I opened up to wrote that I bragged about having sex with 10 different men. As an adult reading this I couldn’t believe how I had no say or anyone defending me, not even my mother. Within those 2 years I was sentenced to 8 different programs with intensive therapy. I wasn’t diagnosed I was just always being treated. I was sent to Excel in Kendal, FL where a man named Willy who was the staff there was molesting the girls there. The director offered me and other girls an option to leave. I chose (JARF) Juvenile Addictions Receiving Facility. Where then I was placed down stairs to be hospitalized in the newly S.I.P.P program. I was 15 when I got out of these programs and started school in 9th grade. While being out in an aftercare program I was also placed in drug court program. My first year of high school and I was set on track, still PTSD but I was better. My mom dropped me off at the movies. Little did I know there was a man watching me? I know this because after 2 weeks since the movies he told me. He called me on my mom’s phone. My mom was and under the table business woman who helps immigrants and those who need help. Getting her number wasn’t hard. This man his name is Jean Senat, he was 26 at the time. He would follow me while I was walking in Stock Island coming from burger king. He grabbed me and told me he would hurt my mom. But that threat was scary to me because I hate my mother...and he then started saying he would hurt my grandmother, who I dearly love. And see threats aren't terrifying what terrified me into submission was the details of my life he was telling me. He said my mom’s number, my address, the car my mom drives so I froze and he took me to a place and raped me. I couldn't look at him. His penis was very small so feeling it in me wasn't as painful, it was just disgusting and I wanted my bed and my home. He drove me to the park and that’s when a police officer found us and consoled him. I was taken home. He was arrested and restraining orders were placed. He was later departed back to his country. Still to this day he looks for me. I stay hidden because of him. At the same time in my life after I put that monster in jail and he was departed I still went to high school. I was in 9th grade still and still 15 I had missed the bus to get home. I was in front of the high school calling my mom but she was at work still till 5pm. Then my cousin stopped his car and asked if he can give me a ride to my grandmother’s house. He called her Fela, which only close family would. So I trusted him. No one in my family is bad. Or so I thought. He was driving towards the beach. I told him he is going the wrong way and he wouldn’t listen to me. He parked somewhere in a parking lot. I don’t know where because my mind was racing and I’m confused. He tried to kiss me and I fought him off a couple times. I can’t believe I fought him off...I never have done that before. But he kept insisting and his kisses were extremely sloppy and it was like he was drooling. Like his spit was stringy and getting in my mouth. I was about to vomit. Then he reached his left arm over me and I tried to get out the car but he shoved me down and pulled the car seat lever to lean me back. Of course I was wearing a skirt because I couldn’t freaking block him from going in. So I stopped fighting before it gets worse. I just turned my head and burst into tears. I can remember everything. The way he raped me the way he just was oblivious to me saying no. like it didn't matter at all. The world slowed down for me. All I think is "is this my life" it didn't matter if I thought I was ugly, fat, or gross" Rape is following me. These men don't care if I’m chunky. The movies make beautiful skinny women get raped. I wasn't skinny and these men were playing with my body. The thoughts that I could share is too dangerous sometimes even for me to think of. My cousin's name was Elvin Caridad and I ended up telling my high school counselor the next day. He was arrested. I went home and stood up to my mother from years of beatings and mental and physical abuse. I hit her back.....because I said no!!! No more hitting me, no more men raping me, no more no more. She had me arrested and given the traumatic events in my life it didn't matter if I was a first offender the judge put me away anyways. My life has been ruined and I live with this ruined life. I'm 27 right now I have spent the last 10 years putting together all my missing puzzle pieces. From my first rape I don't remember ever using the bathroom. Did I pee my pants, pee the bed. Sometimes my memories are mixed in my dreams and I wake up thinking its real. I can't see or trust my family ever again. I created a life, a blessing I call my own and she is 9 years old and she is my light, my peace, my damn serenity. I try hard to hide my pain from her but at times it bleeds out and she sees me in my darkness. She comes and gives me a hug and tells me that it’s ok. She has such a big heart. Every day I face terrors in my mind because of my past and every day I have to wear my cape and become my heroine to my dark evil. I don't know how to heal from this but my life is a bit better than it was and it lives with me presently every day. All I could say is I’m used to it and I cry every week, every year, no matter what. But that's it. I don't kill people, I don't be racist, I don’t hit my child, I don't hurt myself. I would've thought that my life should be that way but for some reason it isn't. This pain is a disease I can only talk about it, there's no cure, and it just can be treated. Well that’s my story. I mean there is more to it but it’s so much and to be frank I am very exhausted, I tried to skim over all these events without digging too deep into it. No one wants to hear my story. I tried to have relationships and it was hard. I am not sexually intimate anymore and it takes me a while to trust some one who wants to be close to me. Me and my mother have come a long way from all that has happened and at this point she is the only one i can talk about this with. We get drunk and it comes out. I would sit down to talk with my sisters but they stop me or don't want to remember anything. I try to get it out. I spent the last 5 years mute and starting august of 2013 I started talking again and trying to socialize with the world. Talking again has been rough because I have been in my head for 5 years and When i speak i mix words or don't say them correctly. Its crazy how you lose what you already know. I had boyfriends and they end up leaving me because i wouldn't have sex and when i tried to sit down and tell them why I am the way i am they would immediately shut down. I know its hard to hear and every one just wants me to move on. But how do you move on when this lives with me everyday. I hear other stories and I break into pain because I know the fear, the disgust and shame you fel about your self. Then to bring yourself to the light and be around people. Having to conduct your self and wish you can be in peace the way they are. I know my story is cut in pieces and Im sorry for that and that it is also long but that's exactly it. My story hasnt ended. The more you hold in the bigger the mess. I hope my story can help others and that maybe this is a step to finally begining to heal.
On December 15, 2002, I had something very precious stolen from me: my dignity. I've hidden my story for years because I felt ashamed of this moment in my past. I have been contemplating sharing my story as part of the "Start By Believing" campaign for weeks, but every time I start to type it out I become afraid of what the world will think of me. Tonight, I realize, I just can't stay silent anymore. My story begins with a handsome, charming college guy inviting a 17-year-old girl over to his house to watch a movie. After the movie, he invited me to his room in the basement to "show me something." Then he pulled me onto his bed and starting kissing and groping me. But that wasn't enough. So he forced me to lie down before climbing on top of me. And when I told him to get off, he told me to keep quiet or he would hurt me. I was scared, alone, and at his complete mercy. As he raped me, my tears quietly ran down my face, soaking my hair, and silently I prayed that this nightmare would be over quickly. When I told my mom what had happened to me, she told me that I was "probably asking for it" and that I "deserved it." For 3 years, I didn't tell anyone else what had happened because I believed her. And even when I shared my story, I still believed it was my fault that I was raped. It took me 10 years to realize that she was wrong. I didn't deserve what happened to me. No one does. Being a victim of sexual assault is an emotional and psychological wound that has haunted me for the last 12 years and, I fear, will haunt me for the rest of my life.
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5/25/2015
I was 3 years old when I was raped.
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5/22/2015
I was 21 when i met that guy and we were seeing each other casually.
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5/18/2015
I had just turned 15 when I met Tate (not his real name.
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5/18/2015
Only 13 years old and I had run away from my home.
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5/15/2015
On December 15, 2002, I had something very precious stolen from me: my dignity.
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5/15/2015
A story of when I disclosed sexual violence and I was believed or not? Going back in time to my teens.
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5/12/2015
My ex boyfriend broke into my house (he had the keys) .
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5/1/2015
I am 61 years and I was gang raped when I was 18.
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4/29/2015
Ten years ago, just after her 11th birthday, my daughter was sexually assaulted by my father on the way home from a Christmas party.
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4/26/2015
This is the first time I've ever shared my story, and one of the first times I've thought about it actively in a long time.
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