ONE WARM AND SUNNY AUGUST AFTERNOON, I was raped. In a deserted
area behind alarge shopping mall, my attacker shackled my hands behind my
back, pushed me into his car and raped me.
But my story isn't about rape. It's about coming back to
life.
Like nine out of 10 rape victims, I didn't report the assault.
Instead, I went home and scrubbed the skin off my body where he had
touched me. Days later I could still feel his hands on me, a lingering
and terrifying sensation. Crawling into bed, I pulled the sheet over my
head. I stayed there for eight months, traumatized, bedridden and
thinking of killing myself.
Finally, I tried to force myself up, to shower, to dress. At first,
I spent more days in bed than I did out; eventually, the number of days I
was successful increased until the opposite was true.
Then a strange thing happened. The director of animal control
called me about an animal-cruelty case. As a freelance writer and
animal-protection advocate, I had previously been involved with these
types of cases. "I want something done about this," the director said.
"What that man did to this dog is unbelievably cruel."
The dog, Dixie, had been found mating with a stray male by her
guardian. He forced them apart, but separating animals in this situation
can cause serious injury--indeed, Dixie's vaginal tissue was pulled out
of her body. But instead of taking her for immediate veterinary care,
Dixie's guardian chained her to a tree and left her there for about a
week.
She was dying when animal control finally rescued her. She
underwent extensive surgery and was hospitalized for weeks. She then
languished in a stall at animal control for months.
Outraged, I contacted the Animal Legal Defense Fund and People for
the Ethical Treatment of Animals. Both organizations wrote letters
demanding action and justice and posted information about the case on
their Web sites. Soon, letters were arriving from all over North America.
One year and hundreds of angry letters later, Dixie's guardian was
charged and sentenced with first-degree animal cruelty.
Throughout my campaign for Dixie's justice, I was plagued with
depression and suicidal thoughts. The details of her experience hit close
to home. Dixie was helpless, just as I had felt during my assault. She
was chained up, just as my attacker had shackled me. Facing her suffering
reminded me of my ordeal. But as I fought for this dog, I began to look
for ways to deal with my own experience.
Still, I was harboring a secret that was eating away at my insides.
I felt guilt and rage and sorrow and hatred. I thought of myself as
damaged, spoiled, like a piece of rotten fruit that should be thrown
away. I felt that the pain would only stop if I were dead.
These feelings lock most rape victims in silence. But rape is not
about sex, passion or lust. Rape is about fear, humiliation and control.
Rape is a crime as violent as shooting or stabbing. If l could tell a
rape victim only one thing, it would be that the experience leaves a real
wound, one that requires professional help. I eventually found my way
into a rape-counselor's office. She was a soft-spoken person with a
pleasant face and gentle smile. I sat on her couch and talked and cried
and healed. She is one of the reasons I'm alive today.
Two years after being raped, I woke up one morning and began my
daily routine. When I sat down later that afternoon to write, I suddenly
realized that I hadn't once thought of committing suicide all day. At
that moment, I knew I wanted to live.
After I was raped, my goal was to do whatever it took to survive my
ordeal, to make it back alive to my family. It took two years, but I
finally made it home. I decided that day that I was not totally helpless.
And now, I'm making good on that decision.
Laura Strickland works with UNICEF and writes frequently about
children's and animal rights. She has rescued more than 2,000 animals and
adopted six dogs.
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