Me Too.

This blog includes a trigger warning as it discusses sexual assault and rape. I want to address a topic rarely talked about: over 80 percent of women with disabilities have experienced sexual assault, with 50 percent of them enduring more than ten assaults. I am one of them. Because of societal norms that devalue and dehumanize people with disabilities, we are significantly at greater risk of SA. I feel like this isn’t spoken about on a large scale mainly because people with disabilities are stereotyped as not being sexual, so we may face challenges having our story taken seriously or it’s just completely dismissed.

While I NEVER imagined discussing this on a public forum, I believe sharing my experience can be beneficial, raising awareness about this serious issue. It may also offer comfort to those who've experienced sexual assault within the disability community, letting them know they aren't alone.

As a teen the thought of SA and how truly vulnerable I am never crossed my mind. I was overly trusting with those I was being intimate with. I was in a mindset of delusion that nothing bad can happen to me. The very first time I experienced this was when I was 14 years old. However at the time I didn’t understand the concept and what it actually entails for it to be classified as SA. I brushed it off as them liking me a lot, and how they stopped as soon as I started crying. But in reality it was the first time I experienced someone using their strength to dominate me knowing I was significantly weaker than they are. Before undergoing 12 weeks of intense trauma therapy, my past self would have written, "but that still didn't stop me from getting out there." However, what I've come to realize is that SA will happen regardless of whether you're out there or not. The last thing you need is to blame yourself for wanting to live life freely. We are not to blame; it's not our fault for not being more careful. It's not our fault, and it never will be.

As a rebellious teenager, being in a wheelchair wasn't going to prevent me from going to parties, seeing boys, and drinking. I was determined to experience what all my friends were doing, and from ages 16 to 19, I did just that as much as possible. However, everything changed when I met a boy at 19 and was rxped, altering my life profoundly in terms of intimacy and trust. I kept it a secret for a year, dealing with overwhelming emotions alone. This person admitted it was easy taking advantage of me because of my disability and said it with confidence, even threatening to take away any potential child because of my perceived inability to care for it. I lived in constant fear, feeling like a target with my disability always on display. The trauma led to panic attacks, making even simple acts, like lying in bed with someone even a friend, terrifying. The vulnerability of being unable to sit up independently heightened my awareness, stripping away my sense of fight and independence. Intimacy transformed into my greatest fear. Pre-therapy Noell would often say I should have learned my lesson the first time or that I was foolish to give someone I just met my full trust given the circumstances. I would berate myself, thinking I was stupid for staying with him, convinced that, being disabled, this was the best I could hope for and I had to endure it. It took me a while to recognize that I was engaging in self-blame and ableism. The idea that it was my fault, that I could have prevented it, done something differently, fought harder, or left him haunted my thoughts. For years, I carried the burden of blaming myself, trapped in the mindset of "it's your fault for not being more careful." It wasn't until I turned 24 that I finally realized I am the victim, and the only person to blame is them.

At the age of 21, when I came out and became a part of the LGBTQIA community, my lingering fear continues to affect me. The worry of becoming a target for vulnerability makes meeting new people extremely challenging. I transitioned from a carefree state, always open to meeting new individuals, to feeling absolutely terrified. Despite undergoing extensive therapy, the fear of letting someone in persists, regardless of their gender. There was a phase where I didn't feel secure unless my parents were present, even though I knew my past girlfriend wouldn't harm me. My parents served as my safety net, and I clung to them like glue. Certainly unhealthy, but this was the sole way I felt in control of my independence. Only at 25 am I beginning to branch out again—living cautiously, yet refusing to let it hinder my freedom. Now, more than ever, I'm conscious that horrible individuals exist and can target you, disabled or not, whether you're careful or not, covered up or not. It happens, and it's NEVER our fault. Evil people commit harmful acts irrespective of circumstances. The concept of victim blaming needs to be obliterated. I am a survivor, and I hope that by sharing stories, especially within the disability community, we can initiate new conversations and bring about change.

National Sexual Assault Hotline at 800.656.HOPE (4673)

Image description: 7 hands raised up in different shades of pink. On each palm it says "me too" in different fonts.