Bring Brave Miss World to your community or campus
to spark conversation, awareness and change.

>> Click here to host a screening

Sharing your survival story can inspire others who may be
victims of sexual assault to receive the help they need.

>> Click here to join the conversation

Buy a T-Shirt or make a donation and be part
of the solution for rape awareness and prevention.

>> Click here to make a donation
>> Click here to buy a t-shirt


Recently single after a 2+ yr relationship, I was vulnerable and needy. Needy for attention mostly. And with my dad’s disappointment in my sexuality, I figured it wouldn’t hurt to try and hang out with guys more. It did.
He made many advances over the summer, all of which I turned away. I even had a serious conversation with him in which we mutually agreed neither of us were looking for relations- we were just friends. We had became pretty good friends, despite all of the harassment I endured. Why I put up with it, I don’t know. I blame myself for it daily.
He asked me to come over and hang out one night, he was leaving for college in the morning. We watched a movie in his room while his parents and sister slept. It was truly enjoyable. He offered to rub my legs because I was sore from the gym, so I accepted.
It led to him pulling at my shorts and me pulling them up, multiple times. He told me he just wanted to give me head. So I figured I should try and relax, it would be over soon. It wasn’t. And he was no good anyways. When it got late, I told him I needed to go. That was when he got on top of me and took what he felt he earned. I begged him to stop. I scratched his back as hard as I could. Until I blacked out. I think. I just remember him gone and me getting up. My legs felt like they would give out. I felt sick. He walked me to my car and before I left, he kissed me and joked about how “we didn’t even get to the fun stuff” because I couldn’t take it. I went home and went to sleep. I pushed it down for months, until it randomly hit me. I haven’t been the same since. It’s been four years and my PTSD still controls my life. He still controls my life. Soon, he wont.

— Survivor, age 22


  • sharon
  • SlimShady
  • Alexis


Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *