Why We Stayed Silent

Back in the sixties and seventies, one did not talk about sexual assault. Or, if it was talked about, it was in whispers, accompanied by the shaking of heads and the clucking of tongues.  

The victim was almost always blamed. What was she wearing? Was she somewhere she was not "supposed" to be? Had she "led him on?" In some schools, the victim could be kicked out if an assault became common knowledge because she had to have "asked for it." 

Is it any wonder we stayed silent? Our minds trying desperately to somehow "normalize" our situations, while our bodies and souls bore the scars. Counseling was something that was not common back in those days. We had no idea where to get help, or that help was even available. We came home, took showers that did not make us feel clean, and lay on our beds, curled up in fetal positions. 

We became pretty good actresses. We went to class the next day as if nothing had happened. We pasted on smiles. We couldn't understand how no one could see the pain underneath. 

Only much later, often in therapy, did we finally realize that we had to face what had happened to us. Nothing ever really goes away. It is always below the surface, shadowing our lives. We still get tears in our eyes when we hear and read of another victim being blamed. Even today. 

Is it any wonder we stayed silent?