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October 30, 2009

To be honest, I wasn’t sure if I had been raped.  I was so completely focused on protecting Luna, that I kind of went numb to everything else.  I always imagined rape to be very brutal, which indeed it is, with blood, pain, struggles.  I thought it was ALWAYS very violent.  Lucky for me, my rape wasn’t so.  I remember telling myself to relax so there wouldn’t be any pain, and to do whatever he wants me to do so there would be no blood.  I knew that when the time was right I would fight back.  He never had the opportunity to fully enter me.  Luna was a great distraction to him with her water-filled eyes and fearful cries.  In so many ways she actually protected me, she was my angel.  Rape, by lawful definition, is penetration, no matter how slight.  I was told that any pressure felt equals penetration, so yes, I WAS raped.  I never feel comfortable saying I was raped because so many victims and survivors are so brutally raped that I feel my incident can not be categorized with others.  There was no blood, no physical pain.  The wounds I obtained came from me sliding down my stairwell to get to the kitchen, and a small cut on my pinky finger from his knife.

I rode sheepishly in the police car through North Philly to the hospital.  I never felt so vulnerable.  Every black man looked like a threat and I wasn’t up for another fight.  I was alone with my thoughts and completely open. I felt the air touch every little hair on my body, the traffic was deafening and my face felt red and burned from my tears.  My vulnerability was terrifying and I could not believe this was me, this was now my life.

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