I once had a friend share with me her story of rape. I wrote this (below) after she and I talked:
TOO PRETTY
Picture me…
Long, blonde hair, blue eyes, curves, and brains
I was twenty-one and ran three miles a day
My smile and laugh came easy
He often told me, “Trust me”
My coworker, my friend
Commenting that I’m “sexy”
I’m “beautiful”
And he wanted to be “my first”
“In your dreams, buddy!”
(I stand corrected: In my nightmare.)
How did this happen?
I had a hand in this?!
My looks brought this on??!!
People noticed.
I changed, and people noticed.
And he lost his job.
He lost his job and I lost me.
It’s been seventeen years
And I’ve worked very hard to live as far as possible from that one night
I work long hours at work and away
And I regret that there’s probably no chance for motherhood
Motherhood would require intimacy
But besides all of that, I’m so busy
And I’d have more friends if I weren’t so busy
And could trust
But I work
And I volunteer
And I have college
And I help with my family
And I teach on Sunday
Thank God for my Faith
I have my Faith and I eat
I dye my short hair brown
And I eat to protect me from this evil he called “pretty.”
1985 Oklahoma Rape
Written July 9, 2003
I was recently talking with another friend, and this topic came up by chance. I've known her for many years, and just learned that she was a rape victim over 40 years ago.
