Self-Worth. Not Defined by Others.

Being raped or sexually assaulted takes away so many things from a person. It breaks your spirit, your confidence, and your pride. It gives you the feeling of being used or that you're tainted. As if you are not worth anything anymore. In many societies, it's something that a person should be ashamed of or should hide. You are now tainted, and therefore, this is something that says something about you as a person. Things couldn’t be more wrong. It couldn’t be further from the truth.

After I went through both experiences, I, too, had the feeling that I was tainted. My mother never made me feel this way. Even so, in our culture and the “multicultural” society we live in, an experience like this changes the way people see you. They see you as a victim, and you either receive pity or judgment from people. My confidence was no more. My sense of self-worth was close to none. I went through a series of emotional distress, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), and health issues. And from the outside, not everyone could see this because I’d hide this. Or I felt that I had to.

Recurring nightmares are the worst. I was right back in the moment, and everything felt and looked so real. You should confront your past, they say. True, but recurring nightmares aren’t confrontation; they are torture. I wasn’t able to concentrate at school anymore, and I started having panic attacks. The nightmares and panic attacks became too much to handle that I turned to self-mutilation to relieve myself of pain. I started cutting in my wrists, feeling some sort of peace when I saw blood flowing. There were a few people who I trusted and told about it. To some, I even showed where I cut myself. And I probably sounded pretty calm when I did this, which may have made it sound fake or as if I was seeking attention. While in fact, I was trying to tell them that I am not ok and that I trust them with this. I couldn’t talk about what happened because every time I did, it took me back, and it was too painful. And this was a way that I could tell and show my loved ones that I was hurting. It wasn’t a cry for help, necessarily, but I needed to tell people because I was afraid. I was scared of what happened, and I was worried about what the trauma made me do to myself.

Looking back now, I know how disturbing that must have come across to people other than my mother because she was there when I couldn’t stop crying or screaming when I was terrified. She was there for me.

These horrific experiences made me very insecure and oversensitive. I wasn’t able to joke about specific topics, neither would I appreciate it when others did. I couldn’t say the word “rape” in Dutch, which is “verkracht.” I would avoid words that had the word “kracht” in them, such as “leerkracht” (teacher), “krachttraining” (weight training), and so on. Whenever I heard someone say a word that resembled “verkracht” or had the word “kracht” in it, it made me cringe and uncomfortable. In the beginning, I felt that people didn’t understand or believe what I had been through, for example, when they said the word in a conversation about what they heard on the news while I was in the same room. To them, it is just an ordinary word without a personal or specific meaning. However, to me, it was a reminder of what had happened. Because I felt ashamed of what had happened, I never told people about this, but even so, I expected them to know. I made this big mistake because we should never assume that people understand what we are going through.

Being brought up in an Indo-Surinamese culture already taught me as a little girl that we should be careful in life, that we shouldn’t attract too much attention to ourselves, and that we shouldn’t wear too revealing clothing. But after this, it made me even more aware of what I said, wore, or how I’d behave in public. It made me question myself and whether it was because of me that it had happened. I kept thinking about what I had done wrong. It was winter. I was covered up entirely because of the cold. So, it couldn’t have been because of my clothing. Was it maybe how I walked? Was I asking for attention while I was walking down the road on my way home? I was only 14 years old, and I had just dropped off my best friend’s little sister at their grandparents’ house. The walk was supposed to be only ten minutes or so, but that didn’t happen. My mother wasn’t at home when I finally reached my home after dragging myself what felt like dragging a dead body. My mother went to a funeral with my family, so her phone was off. I started panicking and didn’t know what to do. I went into the shower and stood there with clothes on for a while before I dared to take off my clothes. I tried washing away all the dirt and shame. It felt as if a big layer of dirt from the perpetrators who touched me everywhere was on my skin, but I couldn’t wash it away.

For years, I struggled with stigma from others and myself by thinking that I was less than others. I felt like I was a victim and that I should act like one. Make sure that people understand why I’m different, almost as if I wanted to justify my traumas. It couldn’t be further from the truth. People who assaulted or raped someone are the ones who should be ashamed of themselves. Perpetrators are the ones who are tainted with the horrible crime they performed. We should talk about how wrong they are and how they should be punished. Thinking about this and knowing that I have survived such a horrific crime made me realize how strong I am. Their crime doesn’t define me. It doesn’t make me tainted or should be something I’m ashamed of. No, definitely not. I refuse to let this take over my emotions, the relationship I have with people, or my whole life, for that matter. I am proud of myself and where I stand, and I am not ashamed of knowing what I have been through.

And most importantly, it was not my fault. I never asked for any of this, and I am not responsible for this mess. No one ever does and is. This made me furious, and it gave me the courage to confront myself, look into the mirror, and be proud of the girl I see.

It wasn’t until I met my husband that I explored my sexual pleasure and indulged myself. Knowing that I, too, was allowed to enjoy and have fun made things much easier. I was done torturing myself to think otherwise. This mindset is partly because of the cultural stigma that any physical relationship is allowed only after marriage and primarily for reproductive reasons. Well, take that stigma, crumble it, and throw it far, far away. Emotional and physical intimacy is also about indulging yourself, getting to know yourself, and having fun. Those traumas made me believe that I didn’t deserve that kind of happiness or pleasure anymore. And yes, there are many times where I might feel the same way again, but I quickly remind myself of the stigma and the truth.

As a young girl, a teenager, but also as a young-adolescence, like most girls of that age, I’d enjoy taking pictures of myself and dressing up. However, specific thoughts were always present at the back of my mind about the presumptions of how a girl should behave. It took me years to truly leave those thoughts behind in the past. To be honest, it wasn’t until after I turned 27 that I’d embraced myself as a woman I’m proud of. I am allowing myself to love myself, see my self-worth, and give myself the power to decide my worth because no one else can. And it’s not like I never doubt what I’m wearing or being conscious about what I say or do, but it’s different. It doesn’t consume me or hold me back from being myself anymore.

It has changed me permanently, as it does to anyone who has been assaulted or raped. I accept the fact that I am oversensitive to specific topics or conversations, and I do not appreciate jokes on this topic. I don’t think that I will ever be able to watch a rape scene without tears falling down my face, but I don’t have to. Knowing this, giving myself space and not forcing myself to feel otherwise gave me so much peace. I am who I am, who has been through a lot, but those things still don’t define me as a person. I am proud of who I am, of where I have come, and I am excited to keep going on this adventure that is called life.