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What To Do IF You’re Not Raped By A Person of Celebrity?

I am writing, because none of the other 120 media people I contacted thought I was worth a moment of their time to respond. I am truly grateful for the “Me Too” movement that is spreading across our Country, and for the first time, America’s focus is on women who are survivors of sexual assault. It’s laughable that sexual assault on a female covers everything from an unwelcome touch, to a woman being raped, that just shows how little government thinks of women. I am so tired of Trump and his mindless minions belittling Dr. Ford, as well as other women who are courageous enough to come forward and have her voice heard and put a face on the word “rape”. I watched the questioning of Dr. Ford, and ran a gauntlet of emotions. Anger. Fear. Sadness. I cried. I yelled at the television. I cheered for the democrats who spoke. And with respect to the way my 78 year old Mama raised me, suffice it to say that I was NOT wishing Lindsey Graham a long and happy life.
I am a survivor of rape. Sadly, the “Me Too” movement can not and will not be able to help women like me. We are the faceless, the voiceless, the unknown. We aren’t victims of a Hollywood producer, or a well-known beloved actor, or a CBS echelon, or a Supreme Court Justice nominee, or a future President. What happens to us? The women who were beaten, raped, tortured just for the hell of it, or simply because we happened in the wrong place at the wrong time…… I ask you, who is there for us? Who is going to listen to us?

Unfortunately, my rape came in the form of several drunken police officers from the Blacksburg, Virginia Police Department. It was a 4th of July weekend, and apparently rules and regulations do not apply to holidays. My ordeal was to endure 12 violent, heinous hours of brutal beatings, I was physically, mentally and emotionally tortured, being told my beloved dog, Buster, was lying with a bullet in his head. All I could think of was my poor baby was probably wondering where I was, and why did mommy let me get hurt. . I was told if and when my family arrived, it would be too late, that I was to be put where they would never find me; I was subjected to being denied water and having my medications withheld. They came for me in the dark, when the other inmates finished their chores, with handcuffs and brandishing night sticks. My hands were cuffed behind my back, dislocating my right shoulder. I was gang raped again and again……to the point I was bleeding extensively from my female genitalia. I was yanked up by the cuffs behind my back, searing pain shot through my dislocated right shoulder; I was pushed to my knees, forced to perform oral sex on my tormentors. I was then kicked to the floor and I sodomized with broom handles, long neck beer bottles and night sticks…..at one point, my blood soaked legs were held open and a gun was shoved up inside me….the officer with the gun proceeded to play Russian roulette, his buddies in blue laughing and placing bets each time the trigger was pulled. Each time I was asked if maybe I could remember if he had indeed emptied the gun. I was just praying to die. I was urinated, defecated, and spat upon. I was repeatedly punched in the face, kicked in the head, kicked in the stomach, kicked in the back and buttocks. My eyes were swollen shut, my lip was split, my right ear was broken and split in two, the result of my head being slammed in the police car door. My wrists were broken, by an African American officer, twisting the handcuffs until the bones snapped. A total of four ribs were broken and two others fractured due to being punched and kicked. My breast bone was broken by a very large officer who decided to administer a sternum rub when I had passed out from the sheer pain. In the early morning, I was “made presentable” re-handcuffed and informed I was being sent to Salem prison. I was told my family will never find me, that I will never survive prison life, and how the female prisoners are going to love me, that I’ll be getting raped repeatedly, every night. One officer whispered in my ear “When they come for you in the night…. make it easier on yourself….. don’t fight them”.

By the grace of God, my mother and sister reached me in time before I was sent to Salem prison. Prior to my release, a female deputy, who apparently had come on for the day shift, apologized to my mother and sister for the condition I was in. My own mother didn’t recognize me…..I was standing right next to my mother and she never even knew I was her daughter! On the drive home, all I was able to do was repeat “Ma, Ma, Ma” continuously……over and over! I tried to bring these animals to justice, but six different attorneys dropped me as a client, in the middle of the proceedings for no reason and by mail, each one stating “I am sorry, but I am unable to help you at this time.” With each letter, a full refund was enclosed. No explanation, no warning, nothing. No Attorney in Virginia wants to represent me against the Blue Wall.

The ramifications of their actions is something I live with every day. I suffer from severe depression and PTSD, everyday is a struggle for me. Each morning I have to search for a reason to get out of bed; on really bad days, I have to search for a reason to live. No one knows how hard it is to fight the urge to want to take your life every day, or how difficult it is to see the fear in my mother’s eyes, knowing she is wondering when will “I give up”. Because, she knows suicide is a private act….the person who says they are going to kill themselves are the ones who want attention. It’s the quiet ones…… they’re the ones that will follow through, with a smile on their face and not a word to anyone.

Why is it that rape is the one crime, the ONLY crime where the victim is treated like the criminal? Like I said, the “Me Too” movement is fine if you are a person of celebrity, but if you’re someone like me, you fall between the cracks and there is no one willing to lend a hand to lift you up.

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