I Am Lucky

Trigger warning: This post contains graphic content of sexual assault and sexual abuse against a child. If you or someone you know is a survivor of sexual assault and you are suffering, please call RAINN at 1–800–656–4673.

I am lucky that the person who sexually assaulted me turned out to be a drunk barista.

I am even luckier that the other person, my babysitter, my parents never bothered to remember his last name. And for the short time they might have known, never shared it with me. Maybe because I had not yet entered first grade. Maybe because they wanted to forget it as soon as it happened. I am the luckiest survivor because when I was 21 and came to terms with what had happened to me and wanting to learn more called the police department, they said the records were sealed and there was nothing I could do.

I am so unbelievably lucky. I will never have to write a letter to a senator telling them that the nominee they are about to consider had molested in me my sleep. I will never have to testify during a Supreme Court nomination hearing and retell the story of when I was six years old and my babysitter telling me to take my pants off and spreading apart my legs and poking in my vagina.

I will never have to see them on tv. I will never have to know they are making decisions at the highest level of the law.