I originally started this blog post off with an apology. An apology about how I might not be the toughest woman you know, but I’m respected in the tech community, and the headline was clickbait and blah blah blah. I deleted it all, because I am, actually, probably, one of the toughest women you know. And I won’t apologize or make excuses for that.

In many circumstances in my life, being tough wasn’t the right answer – but it was the the only thing I knew. So it’s what I am.

And I’m here to tell you that the toughest woman you know has been raped.

This is a difficult post for me to write. I’ve told the story I’m about to tell you to maybe 3 people in the last twenty years since it happened. At almost forty, I still carry shame about it. And that’s fucking dumb.

I’m going to tell you a story. And you’re likely going to judge me for it. And I’m glad to say that I finally don’t care how you judge me on this. The most badass motherfucker you know was raped – and did nothing about it. Nothing. At all.

I want you to understand why, because it matters. My story specifically doesn’t matter, but if the most badass motherfucker you know got raped and didn’t do anything about it, maybe you can start to understand how so many other women stay silent.

It was 1996. I was working on Wall Street (of all places), as a broker. I was brand new and very young – not even twenty years old yet.

I had gone to college briefly before that, but I wanted to get out into the real world. College sucked, my major sucked, and the only reason I was there at all was to play soccer. Before college, I had been waitressing at an Italian place in New Jersey, and a college soccer coach came in to eat. He noticed my Sambas and asked if I played, or just wore them for fashion – if I played, he might have a scholarship for me. I had been all-state and all-region when I was playing more, so it seemed like a dream come true.

I went to the school on a soccer scholarship, and majored in education of the hearing impaired – I desperately wanted to be a professor at Gallaudet in DC – only to realize halfway through the first semester that as a hearing person, I’d be teaching special ed until I was fifty, because deaf schools didn’t hire hearing teachers. I was disheartened. I still had my bartending job, which I really enjoyed, but I wanted more.

Growing up, my stepdad was a tough critic. Perfection or GTFO. (There’s more to that story, but that’s a whole other blog post.) I was taught that no one handed you anything, and it was up to you to determine your fate. If you fought hard enough, you could do anything.

So I left school to go work on Wall Street. Leaving school pissed off my stepdad, but my mom and he were embroiled in a particularly ruthless divorce, so it became a footnote to him during that time.

I grew up in New Jersey, and had always dreamed of living in the city. As a child, we visited there all the time, and it called to me like nothing else did.

At eighteen years old, I decided I was done dicking around, and started searching classified ads. I had no real experience. I was eighteen, and spent the last year of my life living in a tent in Montana with my sister and then bartending. What the fuck was I qualified to do? Sales, that’s what. And who’s awesome at exploiting young people who work for pennies and might be good at sales? Wall Street.

Regardless of what you’ve seen on TV, when you first start out on Wall Street as a broker, you cold call. That’s *all* you do. And it fucking sucks, but I was good at it. Maybe it was because the men picking up the phone weren’t used to a woman trying to pitch them foreign currency (I was in forex, the most detestable, volatile and predatory of all the things you could be on Wall Street at the time), but I was good at it.

I was one of three women brokers in the firm, out of a staff of about 60 or so. It didn’t bother me. My stepdad was an electrical inspector, and I grew up knowing more about electrical codes for buildings than most of the guys he worked with. I hot-wired my first vehicle at 15, when my stepdad tried to punish me by stealing the spark plugs out of my moped, and I then stole the spark plugs out of his Harley Davidson and popped them into my moped just so I could ride by his office and flip him off. I was used to playing in the boy’s sandbox, so it didn’t phase me much.

Our company had a party, as brokerages in the 90s tended to do. I don’t recall if there was a reason for it or if it was just a good month, but everyone was drinking a lot, including myself.

At that point, I was still paying college dues, though not actually attending classes, so the thought of trying to make it all the way home back to Union, New Jersey in the condition I was in at 4AM seemed insurmountable. It was early in my career, so I definitely didn’t have the money for a hotel in the city. A co-worker of mine offered me a place to crash. His name was Joe Longobucco, and we had always gotten on well at work, with no pretext of flirtation or anything else. He had always been an office buddy, and was never disrespectful in any way to me – so I trusted him.

I am admitting right now, I was drunk. It was a bad decision. I know that. It doesn’t change a fucking thing. Not a Single. Fucking. Thing.

We took the Path train back to his apartment in Jersey City. I think we had been back at his place for no more than 5 minutes before I passed out. I wasn’t out for long, maybe 20 minutes. But it was apparently enough. He had offered me his bed to crash in, and I took him up on it. He said he’d sleep on the couch, which looked uncomfortable, but he swore he’d done it a dozen times before and it was fine.

I woke up to him fucking me. Actually fucking me. My fancy pants-suit that I felt so grown up in buying was strewn on the floor, and the first thing I saw when I woke up was this man, this co-worker of mine, fucking me. I was fully dressed when I went to sleep. I looked down at my own naked body in horror to see what was happening. He was actually inside me, fucking me. This wasn’t a dream. This was really happening.

Let me make this absurdly clear. I was unconscious. I did not give consent. I gave him no signals earlier on in the night that I wanted to have sex with him – NOT that it would matter because it abso-fucking-lutely would not have mattered.

I laid there for another minute or two, trying to comprehend what was happening. I had been drinking, but I wasn’t so drunk that I couldn’t understand the situation. I didn’t know anyone in Jersey City. I didn’t have much money, so I couldn’t get home easily. And more importantly, I blamed myself. I convinced myself, in that 5 minute time span, that this was my fault. And I waited for him to finish. Because he was my co-worker, I was starting a new chapter in my life, and the last thing I needed was to make waves in a male-dominated field and get fired for being a whore or a troublemaker or both. So I let my rapist finish raping me without complaint. I closed my eyes and laid there quietly crying as he finished having unprotected, non-consentual sex with me.

I left shortly after that and found my way back to the Path train, and eventually to my apartment. I was filled with shame and horror and wanted him to die and felt so stupid and guilty and everything else you’d imagine. I’d see him the next day at work. and the next, and the next. What the fuck was I even going to say to him? How do you even start that conversation with someone who has violated you in that way?

Fortunately, I didn’t have to figure that out. A week or so later, I heard him *bragging* about having “banged” me at an office gathering after work. (Evidently, that was an achievement.) I heard him tell a very different story than the one I remembered – and I waited until as many co-workers were around him as possible. I walked up to him, picked him up off the floor by his collar (he wasn’t a large man), and told him very matter-of-factly that he was a rapist, and if he ever spoke a word about it to anyone, I’d have him arrested, and then killed.

I wish I had a better ending for this story. I wish I could tell you that I pressed charges. I wish I could tell you anything at all beyond what I’ve told you. But I can’t, because at 18 years old, being broke and on my own, I didn’t dare stir up more trouble than that. Don’t get me wrong – if that motherfucker so much as looked at me again, I’d have beaten the shit out of him – but these things are always so much clearer when you’re out of danger.

I didn’t write this for me. While I get a modicum of catharsis from finally telling this story twenty years later, that’s not what this is for. This is for every woman who has been in a similar circumstance – but more importantly, for every male ally who thinks this shit only happens to women who can’t defend themselves. I could absolutely have physically fended Joe off. He was 5’5 tops and I could have fucked him up beyond all recognition.

Rape is more complicated than that. Sometimes when you have the physical capacity to defend yourself, you are paralyzed by other ramifications. I didn’t tell anyone about this because I feared for my job, and I feared for my professional reputation, which could have been destroyed simply by the suggestion that I was a whore that wrongfully accused upstanding men of rape. The amount of damage he could do to me long after he was done raping me far outweighed the benefit of saying something, when I knew the response would be that I was drunk and I should have known better.

And that’s why I’m telling you this story. A lot of good men look up to me as a leader in the tech community. They look at me as one of the toughest women they know – and I need them to know that it happened to me. And if it can happen to me, it can happen to any woman they think is too tough for that. The strongest women you know are not exempt. Being strong isn’t enough. Being drunk isn’t an excuse. Every good man needs to be an advocate, and every young man needs to understand that another person’s body is not theirs to do with as they please simply because that person didn’t say no.

Was I naive? Yes. Did I make stupid decisions? Yes. Was it rape? Absolutely. Did I deserve it? No. No one ever does, regardless of their naiveté or stupid decisions. This is never, ever okay. Ever.

“Date rape” isn’t some more-innocuous form of rape. It’s not Rape-Light(tm). It’s fucking rape, and it’s time we start talking about it for what it is. And if it took me twenty years to write about it, odds are pretty good that someone you know, that you love, right now, has gone through something similar.

I am not the exception, I *am* the rule, and this shit matters.


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I’m a tech geek/dev/infosec-nerd/scuba diver/blacksmith/sword-fighter/crime fighter/ENTP/warcrafter/activist. I'm the CTO at Mass Mosaic and the CEO of Grokability, Inc. in San Diego, CA. Tweet at me @snipeyhead or read more...

  • To share this is to share your strength. Thank you so much.

    You are loved.

  • I know you’re not looking for apologies, but I am truly sorry that this tragedy occurred. I can not thank you enough for writing this.

  • Thank you for sharing this.
    Had I wondered if I could have even more respect for you, I wouldn’t have to wonder anymore.

  • Wyndham Williams

    I thought you where tough already as a pro, but damn that took strength – sharing it was important and an example to others male and female or whatever gender they happen to be

  • JGJones

    No-one should judge you, I will not do that to you. You didn’t do anything wrong and writing about it took courage and I hope you’re able to inspire other women to come forward and not to feel so ashamed if they went through the same horrible situation.

    I have a daughter and it’s horrible to read about it happening to anyone, even you a stranger to me. Thank you for sharing, this does not dismiss you in any way, but make me admire you more for sharing so publicly something difficult for you.

  • I was 18, had a boyfriend, and was baby sitting for a friend. By the time she got home with her brother and partner it was fairly late, and she offered me her spare room/bed for the night rather than having me walking home (since it wasn’t a good area).

    I was just dropping off to sleep when i heard the door open, and she said ‘hey you don’t mind iof my brother sleeps on the floor do you? he’s harmless, drunk and just wants to sleep’. I didn’t want him too, but was unsure how to voice that and not piss off my friend. I also really didn’t want to be walking home at midnight in a bad neighbourhood.
    Soon after her brother was in the room he ended up pushing his drunken ass onto me. I felt dirty, and horrible. As it was, i left at 2am regardless of the bad neighbourhood.

    It took me days to tell somebody, and i ended up telling my boyfriend. My Boyfriend accused me of cheating on him, told me not to lie. We didn’t break up, though looking back i should have, My boyfriend and the friends brother ended up becoming best mates, so i had to tolerate being at parties and other things, staring at his face.
    I ended up hating myself, thinking somehow i had done something, it was my fault. I finally saw the truth years later. By this time i had been in 2 abusive relationships because of it, thinking i deserved it.

    • I’m so sorry to hear this, Liz, and I can’t thank you enough for sharing your story. I know how our minds can convince us that we’re worthless, and we keep punishing ourselves so long afterwards. Love you, girl.

      (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • Matthew General

    Thank you for sharing this.

  • Thank you.

  • Elle

    Oh, Snipe – I just do not know what to say to help take the hurt from your heart. Thank you for sharing your story.

  • You are so brave and badass. Thank you for sharing.

    • Thank you, Hilary. I think you’re pretty badass, too. (We must grab a beer soon.)

      (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • AmyStephen

    Love ya, Snipe.

    • Love ya yoo, girl.

      (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • Roland Bouman

    Snipe, thanks for sharing this.

    This must have been a terrible ordeal for you personally; the fact that you took the time to get a message across that surpasses your personal suffering so that others (men and woman alike) can learn from your experience is very admirable and deserves praise.

    Peace. Respect.


  • arcsine

    Thank you. Your message and voice is needed, respected and is making a huge difference.

  • amazonv

    Thank you. It’s happened to me, and it kills me when people talk about it like most girls lie about it, or deserve it. Thanks for helping put the event in the light it deserves, it happens. it still counts if it is not reported.

  • Jayson E. Street

    So I was going to just send you a DM of support in a few days. Was going to have a few emoticons and everything. Though after reading Jenny’s comment that in any way you had an iota of blame in this horrific incident I feel compelled to bare a part of my past publicly in support of what you went through! Well how do I start this…

    wow 10 minutes of staring at the screen lets jump right on in. ALSO FYI this part may be a little NSFW also I’m pretty sure TMI now that I think about it but here it goes!

    I have never “Made Love” to a woman. I have always have had sex. I can never feel emotional attachments with the act. It is to me now as adult a fun exercise you do with people you like. You see when I was not even 10 years old that was how it was introduced to me. I was molested early and often by females who were supposed to be close to me. I did things and was told to lie still so things could be done to me. So when I got older and was able to process it I wanted to still please others and be pleased as well.

    Fast forward to me in my 20’s I was a guy who was always charming and always willing to hook up with any girls who were interested. Believe it or not there were a few who were. I had a reputation among my friends in the Renaissance Fair crowd of being the guy to have no strings fun with. I also was a pretty good fencer and sword fighter. So during practice I’d make sure to show off for all the new girls who happen to be around. On this one day a girl we will call her Jane (honestly don’t remember her name or many of the others) She had been coming to the practice for about a month and I have been doing my flirty charming just a fun guy thing. When after the practice she agreed to come to my apt. We got there I immediately asked her if she wanted to take a shower to freshen up and then being known as pretty good masseur I would give her a massage after our fencing practice. She said yes and after we showered we were in bed. Where I proceeded to please her. We are both naked at this time she seems to be very satisfied I then raise up to get on top and am about to enter……..and she says quietly “No I can’t do this”…..What am I supposed to do at this moment?!? She was pretty consenting when I was pleasing her now she wants to back out WTF!! At this exact moment I’m on top of her naked shaking and poised to enter ….. so I roll off of her BECAUSE SHE SAID NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Consent was not given it can not be forced!!!!!! There is no excuse YOU DID NOTHING WRONG BY GOING TO HIS PLACE! No matter when no matter why no matter how quietly spoken or loudly screamed NO MEANS NO! If you are unconscious or impaired by ANYTHING that is not CONSENT! There was one time while dating my wife after we started having sex that after a party I wouldn’t do anything with her because she was not sober so therefore not able to really consent! THERE IS NO EXCUSE FOR A GUY TO DO THIS! “Oh she wanted it so she came over and got drunk first” NO! “She wanted to be able to say no so I wouldn’t find her slutty” NO! “I’ve been dating her for months time to take it to the next level she’ll understand” NO! Rape is not about sex it is not about force! It is about stealing something from someone that they rarely can ever get back! The rapist steals a piece of them that can’t be seen! That assurance that everything will be OK. That feeling of safety in a room full of strangers. The feeling of being safe when someone touches you from behind. They steal a part of your innocence that this is a world worth living in! That is why it matters! No will always mean NO. Consent MUST ALWAYS BE GIVEN! Never implied!! Never assumed!! NEVER TAKEN!!

    Well I wrote it now I’m sitting here wondering if I’ll publish it! How will this be taken? What will people say? Well that didn’t stop you though you are tougher than me! 🙂 I will try to be just as tough and post it! STAY STRONG STAY YOU! <3 U always!

    • Jayson – First let me apologize for taking so long to respond to this. Right after I wrote it, I was flooded with responses, and they were all pretty overwhelming. So many stories, so much sadness. I just needed some time to process. But I’ve been thinking about your response for a while, and there was no way I could leave this here without a response.

      Thank you so much for sharing your story and your support. I’m so terribly sorry to hear of your ordeal when you were younger. I wish there were something I could do to take that away from you.

      I’m so glad you hit publish on this, and I hope you are, too. You are amazing, and I <3 U always too.

    • Marla Hughes

      I don’t remember how I came to be here on Snipe’s blog, but her amazing fortitude in telling her story impressed me enough to read down the comments. Then I came across yours. You are one of the good guys. 🙂

  • charismacheck

    Thank you so much for sharing this, your story resonates with me on a deep level, because I had a very similar situation, that involved roophies. I am about to share my story with my community on stage, and was somewhat terrified. Just like you the reason I share isn’t for me, I have to heal myself, its to be a light for women, and say “yes it can happen to the tought ones, and its not ever your fault”. Thank you for giving me a boost of courage to share my own story.

    • I’m so glad this was helpful to you, and I’m so sorry you went through something similar. Have you shared your story on stage, as you mentioned in your comment? How did it go??

      (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • lsmith77

    “I am admitting right now, I was drunk. It was a bad decision. ”

    No it was not or it should not have been.

    I have shared a bed with many female friends, I have slept in the same tent, even sharing a sleeping bag without thinking of it was an invitation to have intercourse. I have been alone in the sauna with female friends. Bathing naked in a lake while doing a hike together through the woods. Its not impossible for men to not think that they are invited to jump on a fully dressed women that is passed out on their bed.

    • Thank you, lsmith77.

  • amazonv

    “Fine, but going home with him in the first place could be seen as giving consent.”

    No, consent is never to be assumed – he assured her he would be on the couch, they had no prior relationship or flirting, and EVEN IF THEY DID you are supposed to get consent from someone more specifically before having sex. she was passed out. drunk or unconscious people, even if you are married, should not be used for sex!

    “What he did was absolutely not right, ”

    yes, I agree

    “but the way you conducted yourself (and the way other women conduct themselves), like it or not, absolutely DOES matter.”

    no, the only person responsible for a crime is the criminal. Yes actions have consequences for everyone but those consequences should not include acts of violence against someone, ever.

    “This does not mean you actually gave him consent or that you asked for
    what happened, but the situation you woke up to was the consequence of
    not just his actions, but yours.”

    she chose to trust a human being at his word, who had never indicated/acted sexual toward her – you are saying no humans should be trusted? I personally try to give people the benefit of the doubt.

    “The point that needs to be understood is this: EVERYBODY needs to be
    very careful about what they do. Not just men. We ALL need to
    understand the potential consequences of our actions. Not just men. If
    we don’t understand this, then we are essentially saying, “I can act
    however I want and it’s up to you to make sure no harm comes to me.” This isn’t how it works.”

    Please note women rape men, men rape men, women rape women. Even so, yes actions have consequences but humans should not be feral animals forcing sex on things because they are attractive or nearby.

  • amazonv

    Also: http://www.rapecrisis.org.uk/commonmyths2.php

    Myth Women who are sexually assaulted ‘ask for it’ by the way they dress or act, rape only happens to young women.

    Fact Many women are led to believe that if they are
    not part of a certain category of women then they are ‘safe’ from being
    raped. Women and girls of all ages, classes, culture, ability,
    sexuality, race and faith are raped. Attractiveness has little
    significance. Reports show that there is a great diversity in the way
    targeted women act or dress. Rapists choose women based on their
    vulnerability not their physical appearance.

    Sometimes women see themselves as ‘unworthy’ or ‘undesirable’ because
    of their age or physical appearance and therefore ‘safe’ from rape. Some
    men joke or make comments about women’s appearances or age to indicate
    whether she is sexually desirable or available, or as part of their
    defence in court, saying he thought ‘he was doing her a favour’, using
    her appearance or age. Women are raped from the age of three to ninety
    three. Rape is an act of violence not sex.

  • “going home with him in the first place could be seen as giving consent.”

    No, it could not. At least not without the aid of profound delusion.

    It has been a couple of decades, but I think I can still remember every one of the handful of times I crashed in someone else’s residence because I was too intoxicated to get to my own. That’s awfully drunk, but I’m absolutely sure I never thought I was making a tacit deal of a warm bed in exchange for being fucked in my sleep. And although in a couple of cases my hosts may have had ulterior motives of a sexual nature, nothing happened that was in any way sexual or violent (except for one air-horn awakening…)

    Getting so intoxicated that one must rely on others to provide aid is generally unwise because it is randomly unsafe. You can’t count on most people and the world generally works to kill the careless. I think this is a lesson every parent tries to teach and almost every young person ends up learning only by life experience: by having something randomly bad happen to them or near them, usually not rape. Most people providing a safe crash for a drunk acquaintance don’t rape them. Every sub-zero night will freeze off underprotected alcohol-numbed digits. Only one type of victim gets accused of tacit consent, and it isn’t those who take the stupidest and surest risks when intoxicated. It is those whose harm can be directly blamed on specific others whose evil behavior is blessed by our culture as their right.

  • No. Just…no. Women are full, autonomous human beings (just like
    men!), not sex vending machines that men can try to “hack” (e.g., rape
    while unconscious). If the roles were reversed do you think he would
    have been seen as giving her consent while he was unconscious? I’m 100%
    sure the answer is ‘no.’ Women do not give men consent to rape them just
    because they exist in the same room with them and don’t have their
    ladybits locked down with a padlock. Most (and, I hope, ALL) men I know don’t view women as sex vending machines. You may need better male friends.

  • imaguid

    “The most badass motherfucker you know was raped – and did nothing about it. Nothing. At all.”

    from my own experience being on the receiving end of sexual violence i came to the conclusion that nothing really prepares you for it. not doing anything about it? you’re definitely not alone there. as far as i’m concerned there’s nothing wrong with not doing anything about it. nothing. at all. it may not be what society expects or considers the optimal response, but it’s not society living through that moment, dealing with that psychological and emotional toll.

    you are doing something about it now by telling your story, though, and the word that keeps coming up in the comments – courage – is precisely the right one.

    • Thank you so much for your encouragement, and for sharing your thoughts.

  • lomifeh

    Sorry but no there is no implied consent here. I’ve had women crash at my place after a night of drinking. Even had them end up in my bed without anything sexual happening. It’s not some kind of given that men and women will always expect to fuck if they are sleeping in the same domicile. It seems you think that is true.

  • lomifeh

    I had to take a day to post anything about this because reading it pissed me off and I needed perspective I think. I can’t begin to imagine what it was like for you but I think you nailed it. Thank you for posting this, and never apologize for who you are or what happened to you. If anything that pisses me off more the thought that you considered doing that.

    The parallels in us hanging out which struck me. Though obviously in our case nothing remotely like this happened.

    • Thank you, Larry. I’m sorry this took so long for me to reply. There was a bit of a flood that happened after I posted this, and I just didn’t have it in me to reply to everyone.

      I thought of the same thing when I wrote it. I’ve crashed at your place, and you would never have considered doing something like that.

      • ken

        It’s so important also to note: you’ve crashed at his place regardless (I know it’s 20 years later but who stops thinking about such a thing?)

        You haven’t let this own you, no matter how tremendous an event it obviously was.

  • Andrea

    You just jumped to the top of the Most Badass Motherfucker of the year award list.

  • Barbara

    Jenny… no, just no. It’s not even that I respectfully disagree with your opinion here– it’s that you’re dead wrong about what you just said. I’ve invited friends and coworkers (both male and female) to crash at my place when they were too drunk to get home by themselves, and not once did their acceptance of my offer ever make me think “Hey! Maybe I’ll get to have sex with them!” It doesn’t matter that I’m a woman. Wanting to help someone out in this manner is what a lot of humans do, without asking for anything in return. I myself have crashed at other peoples’ places simply because I needed a place to stay, not because I wanted to have sex with them. And yes, I have slept at the homes of many male friends and did not get raped by them. “Snipe” was in no way at fault here, as you stupidly accuse her of being. The only one at fault in that situation was her rapist. Humans are not animals, and therefore there is no excuse for behaving like one.

    Shame on you. I don’t know who taught you to think that way, but they were wrong.

    • Thank you so much for this, Barbara.

    • ken

      There is simply no question about this whatsoever. Someone you know professionally says ‘we’re all drunk you can crash at my place.’
      This is 5000 miles away from ‘let’s get it on.’
      If a woman invited me to crash at her place after a party – I would not, I would go home like a good boy.
      However, if I were out of town and had nowhere else to go, then sure.
      And if she came in the room in a nightie and laid next to me I would say ‘thanks for letting me crash… I hope I don’t keep you awake.”
      She even could start kissing me and shit and I’d STILL WAIT.
      Geez. Where do these monsters come from… how are the stories so prevalent? I don’t know (I hope) any of these ‘people.’

  • netmeg

    Hey, me too. No alcohol involved. You’re right about the toughest woman part.

  • km

    i cried reading your story – not the exact same circumstances, but it happened to me and i hate that i didn’t do anything about it, but at the time, it seemed safer to not do anything at all. i am so sorry that happened to you. thank you so much for bravely sharing your story so we know we are not alone.

    • Thank you so much for sharing your story. I’m sorry this took so long for me to reply. There was a bit of a flood that happened after I posted this, and I just didn’t have it in me to reply to everyone.

  • I just saw this while visiting your site for the first time, installing Downworthy. I wish I had words, but I really can’t come up with any other than anyone who dares judge or blame you needs to take a stadium full of seats. Much love to both 20 years ago Snipe and Today Snipe.

    • Thank you, sweetie.

  • Thank you for this. <3

    (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • Thank you so much, Whitney. Don’t be sad – they will have joys and wonder that you also can’t comprehend, and the world is a different place now than it was 20 years ago. Still so very far from fixed, but I feel like these things are talked about so much more now, there is hope. Just teach them to always live without fear, and they’ll grow up to be as wonderful as you.

    (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • Thank you so much, Armorguy. Much love back atcha.

    (Apologies for taking so long to respond. Right after I wrote this, I was hit with an amazing outpouring of support, replies, DMs and emails, and felt a little too overwhelmed to address them at the time.)

  • Sue

    I was very severely sexually harassed at my place of work by a few men. I was intimated, threatened and blackmailed. This was a financial institution. Both men and women in the work place victimized me. They said I deserved it. I was not interested. They made up stories as if I was interested in those men. Now, I am returning to that work place after a while because I did not get a job else where. It is very hard going back and facing those men and women.

    • Marla Hughes


      Are you okay? Reading this 2 months later made me realize it may not have went well for you. Let us know, okay?

  • WildMsSara

    Thank you is an understatement for beginning to dissect all the intricacies of what rape “looks like” – And bringing it out into the light. I’m beginning to think most women experience nuances of this, at least once in their lifetime.

  • jen

    I really don’t know why you think you made a bad decision. You didn’t do anything wrong by going back to his place. I mean he said he’d sleep on the couch too, something that he probably wouldn’t have offered to do if he of expected consensual sex with you. You didn’t do anything wrong here and anyone that says you did isn’t worth knowing/listening to and probably doesn’t deserve to breathe the same air as you either.

  • Nessa

    Thank you I was rape and was told that it wasn’t rape because I did not fight back. I have frequent thoughts about suricide, because I feel like I am just a week person and should get past this by now. I try to talk to a older lady from my church, but now she ignores me because she said I have to many issues. This may sound strange but my biggest question is do I have the right to cry? When it first happen it was over 10 years ago I was between 18-20, and it was handle by the church board, and I was told not to cry to draw attention to the situation. Throughout my adult live this seems to be a pattern and I don’t feel I have a right to my body. Just a few years ago a massage therapist stuck his finger inside of me and I just lie there without saying anything, and I just don’t know why I don’t fight back or at least scream my body immediately goes into a denial pharse.