Posted by:
Naomi
(
)
Date: March 29, 2012 10:25AM
A long time ago, when I was a 19-year-old BYU student, I became friends with a group of guys from an African country. I was really interested in their culture, tried their native food, and started learning their language. One of the guys obviously had a romantic interest in me. I didn't feel the same way about him, but I liked him as a friend. It was awkward for me because I didn't have much experience dealing with that kind of situation.
I was going home at the end of the semester and the night before I left, I got a phone call from this guy. It was late, probably close to midnight, and he said he wanted to see me before I left. One of the stupidest things I've ever done in my life, I said OK and walked over to his apartment. I went inside and sat down next to him on the couch. He laid on top of me and held me down. I tried to push him off, but he told me not to move, he was trying to control himself. I lay there terrified for what seemed like hours while he fought for self-control. He lost control and raped me. I finally fought back as best I could, but it was too late. I freaked out. The second he let me up, I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. Eventually, though, I had to come out. I didn't say anything to him, I just wanted to leave. He blocked the door. I didn't want to get near him. There was a chair between the door and the couch, so I planned it out and sat on the couch with the chair between us and pretended to give up. He walked over to me and I timed it just right, ran around the chair and got to the door and out before he could catch me. I ran all the way back to my house. When I got there, I saw his friend in his car, and the guy sitting in the back seat. The friend wanted to talk to me, and I thought I could trust him. He told me that he knew what had happened, and it wasn't the guy's fault. As soon as he said that, I turned around and walked into my apartment. I locked the apartment door and went straight to the shower. When I got out of the shower, he was standing in my room - my roommate must have let him in. I jumped back in the shower and waited a few minutes, then peeked out - he was gone. I jumped out and locked the bedroom door, got dressed, and climbed out the window. I spend the next hour hiding in the bushes outside, trying to figure out what to do. The thought of calling the police never crossed my mind. I was terrified that I might have gotten pregnant, might have gotten AIDs, had just lost any chance of ever getting married because I was no longer a virgin, and thought it was my fault for going over to his apartment. After all, the BYU Honor Code says no visiting the apartments of the opposite sex after midnight. I broke the rule, it was my own fault. By this time it was almost morning, I was getting a ride to the airport at 7am and my bags were by the front door. He was still in my apartment. Finally I knocked on my roommate's window and woke her up, told her to tell him to leave. I climbed back in my window and stayed in my room with the door locked until my ride got there.
I came back the next semester and he tried to call me several times, but I always hung up on him. I never talked to him again.
I thought I had to confess to my bishop, but when I got in the office I couldn't say anything. Sex was a topic that just wasn't discussed, and I couldn't say the words. I told the bishop there was something I had to tell him. He waited. Finally he had to guess what it was. He asked me if I'd had sex, and I nodded. He asked how many times, and I said one. He put me on informal probation. I wasn't allowed to take the sacrament or say prayers in church.
A few months later, I got a phone call from a missionary. He wanted to talk to me about his investigator. It was the guy who raped me. I told the missionary I didn't want to talk about it and hung up.
I didn't tell anyone until I finally confided in a friend over a year later. I was just a young, scared, sheltered, stupid 19-year-old kid.