A letter to everyone who's survived sexual assault.
I'm sorry.
No, truly, I am.
I'm sorry for so many things, to so many people, through so many times but most of all... I'm sorry I believed these lies.
I guess it should come as no surprise that the right to my body's a social disguise based on the notion that a man has the right to anything in his eyes from my thighs to my hair and no, not my dreads, but the ones down there as long as my skirt was short enough to invite him to stare.
I'm sorry.
I apologize for this disguise that I put on but I'm so glad you knew it was meant to turn you on.
Because the clothes that I wear have no significance to me as a human being.
Rather, they're meant for you to define me by what you're seeing.
Forgive me.
Forgive me please for not getting the memo.
That if I drink a little too much, I go from being a woman to a hoe.
For forgetting that if I sip drinks and liquor shouldn't be the only thing I expect down my throat because... if I'm not really asking for it, he really won't.
Now, I'm not sure if my apology is coming off entirely too sincerely, so let me take a minute to break it down for y'all a little bit more clearly.
Number one: Remember, rape is not about sex. It's about power and privilege.
Number two: Don't teach women self-defense, modest dressing, or other ways to avoid being raped initially, why not foster a culture that teaches men not to rape indiscriminately?
Number three: If the case makes it for court, I've got advice for people on the bench - perceptions of character are not as important as evidence.
And number four: If a person is raped, look for the rapist, and not the reason.
That one shouldn't have to rhyme.
