MY STORY / THE AFTERMATH
Where I found myself at 16.
The aftermath.
These photographs show the aftermath of two separate assaults when I was 18.
At eight, I barely escaped an assault. That assault was one of several I survived before entering my first abusive relationship at 16. Looking back, I now understand how hard it was to recognize safety when I had known so little of it. The abuse began at 16 and escalated over the next two years, until I was almost killed at 18.
Later this month, I’ll share more about some of those assaults and what they left me carrying. Their impact lasted far beyond the moments themselves, especially in how I came to see myself.
I did not yet know how to separate an encounter that began consensually from the violence it turned into. I remember begging him to stop during one of the assaults. My pleas only seemed to infuriate him further, and he became enraged. The violence escalated, and I blamed myself for the consequences that followed—as if telling him to stop made his reaction my fault.
Through therapy and self-education, I began to understand those experiences differently. I could finally look back at those moments without searching for something I should have done differently.
It took years to understand that I had every right to withdraw consent, and that his actions were his responsibility.
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