What I wish most of all is that his parents had taught him about consent.

It’s not easy to talk about this experience, but I know that it’s important and I’m grateful to have a platform in which to share my experience. Knowing how many people are going to read this and know exactly what I went through absolutely breaks my heart. Sometimes it happens violently behind a dumpster, but more often it happens in our own homes, our friend’s and family’s homes, and by people that we know, and even loved.

To anyone reading who’s been through something like this, know that with time, it gets easier. You may be inexplicably into rough sex, have surprising triggers like the back of your head being touched, and you may have a hard time opening up and trusting people for a while. You may find yourself part of the women’s rights movement, at the bottom of another ice cream pint, or putting your therapy sessions on your credit card, again (check, check, and check).

But what you’ll also find, in time, is strength. And compassion. Hell, I’m even in a healthy relationship right now and we may have a lady as president soon. Times are changing (grandma alert), and as far as this issue is concerned, it’s about fucking time.

We have a choice to speak up about violence against women, listen to those who’ve been hurt, and change those statistics. Let’s not screw it up this time.