Perhaps the most disturbing effect of my rape, though, was how people treated my story. Those I confided in seemed completely unimpressed by the seriousness of the matter — from my friends, to my therapist, to my then-boyfriend.
These people are generally progressive and compassionate people, but they couldn’t seem to grasp the terrible brutality of the rape because my rapist was a woman. I asked an acquaintance on the police force for advice who counseled me not to even bother filing a report, since the assaulter was a woman and there would be no evidence. I took him at his word.
Exhausted and frightened by the entire ordeal, I never reported it formally, feeling as if there would be no point in doing so.
This is actually one reason I never gender my abusers. I always refer to them as ‘them’ because the moment I say ‘she’ I’m not taken seriously.
Abusers are abusers, man OR woman. I’ve had both. But it was one of the female gender who did the most damage. Physically, sexually, and psychologically.
And I’ve only been able to open up and talk about it to 3 people in detail because of how ashamed it makes me and how little people understand.