Why I’m Marching in SlutWalk NYC
One night in January after a lot of dancing at a friend’s house party in Brooklyn, a male neighbor and I made our way back to our building less than a mile away. We’d both consumed alcoholic beverages but nothing unusual for twenty-somethings on a Saturday night. My roommate had a new love interest at home with him, so to give him some privacy I went back to the neighbor’s apartment to crash, which I’d done several times before. I felt safe going back there as I’d spent a lot of time with this neighbor in a Will & Grace, Glee-watching, Katy Perry-listening kind of way. He’d had a homosexual relationship for more than a year prior to our being neighbors and for all intents and purposes I thought of him and treated him like a gay, male friend.
The next thing I know I’m feeling my pants being pulled down off my body. I heard the neighbor mutter, “Time to take charge of this situation.” And then I felt a small penis trying to enter me from behind. “No. Stop. No. Stop.” I kept repeating. I was in complete shock as I felt him enter me twice while I continued to say, “No. Stop. No. Stop.” I then felt him lift his weight off of my body and retreat. I felt frozen and totally incapacitated.
I didn’t realize fully what happened to me for at least 24 hours after the incident. I was stunned that this neighbor had just sexually violated me.