I write this anonymously as a faithful OHN reader and poster. You all know me…you may or may not have met me. You may look at me as the lil play cousin from down the street or just a friend. I am here to tell you about my experience with rape and abortion and why whenever someone says “abortion should never be allowed, even in instances of rape” spit in my face. You may not think you know someone who has been raped and pregnant, but the reality is…you know at least one. I am here. And here is my story.
Once upon a time, I met this guy who was working at a train station as a station security, badge and all. We spoke that day and then I boarded my train home. I frequented this station a lot to head home and I would see him frequently. After about 2 months, we exchanged numbers and a month after that we decided to go on a date at the station he worked out of, because there was more to do in his area. We went, the date was nice. I took my butt back home and we made plans to go out again. The 2nd date was also great. Third date was cool too. I wound up being in his area randomly one day because I was visiting a friend and he asked me to stop by so we could kick it outside. So I went. It was still daylight and I had more than enough time to get home. I stopped by and we did hang out on the stoop, just shooting the breeze. Eventually I had to go to the bathroom and we went upstairs so I could go. We wound up deciding to stay inside because a movie was coming on and we both wanted to watch it; me because it was one of my favorites and him because he had never seen it. During the movie, he got up to go to the bathroom. Then a hand landed around my neck. I tried to fight, but I am but 5’4″ and was only doing but so much damage against someone who was 6’3 and around 260 lbs.
I lost and we wound up on the floor.
I tried to keep my clothes on, but I lost that fight as well, all while screaming “No”. The will to keep fighting left and I figured that if I fought anymore, I may receive something worse than a few slaps and I very well couldn’t go home with bruises and black eyes. I resigned myself to the fact that I would be taken against my will by someone I knew and was starting to trust. Hot tears fell down my face and landed in my ears. I tried to cover my face with a pillow as I cried while the act went on, trying to go into a place of darkness and protection…as if the pillow was proof that it was a dream…and just as quickly was snatched with a “look at me” coming from above. I kept my eyes closed, but nails dug in my cheeks. By the time the act was over, I had reached that numbing place and I stayed on the floor until I was instructed to go to the bathroom. I grabbed my clothes and stumbled on the way there, crying again once I reached my destination.
I managed to clean the blood and semen through the pain and walked back out dressed. ”I have to go home” managed to exit my mouth and we departed for the station, me walking behind him because I was still in pain. I must have looked a hot shytty mess on that train because I later found out that the conductors were looking out for me – on a supremely crowded train, passengers were told my row was not to be sat in. I got home and took a shower to get that dirty feeling off of me…but no matter how much you scrub, that feeling doesn’t go away. I sat and replayed the entire day in my head, trying to figure out what I did for it to happen. I couldn’t think of anything. I thought of reporting it but decided otherwise. It was me against him…and he had a badge. It may not have been an official police officer badge, but it was a badge nonetheless.
Weeks went by. While I was at work, I had a stomach cramp. Nothing big…my period was due to come and I get cramps as a warning sign. The cramps became more frequent as the month went on and my breasts started to hurt. That had never happened to me…but maybe my period signs were changing since my cycle sometimes changed. I had the discussion with my boss and she said “You’re pregnant.” I’m sure I looked at her like she had 4 heads because I hadn’t had sex since the incident. I pushed that thought out of my mind. Then a friend of mine told me she was pregnant and gave me her symptoms. I looked at the phone and decided I would wait another week to see if my cycle came. It didn’t. I went and picked up 2 pregnancy tests. One was a box that had two tests (it was name brand – I just can’t think of the name) and the other was a name brand digital test. I took one test that day. After waiting 2 minutes, I got my response. Pregnant. I thought it may have been something I ate, so I would wait until the next morning like you’re supposed to. I took the 2nd test the next morning and same thing. ”Maybe this box is wrong…Jasmine had 2 false negative tests before. Maybe this one is giving false positives and I’m reading this wrong.” I took the digital test on the morning of the 3rd day. On the box, it says to wait I believe 90 seconds for a result. I got one in 20 and it was written in plain English.
If you have never experienced an unwanted pregnancy, you cannot imagine the anguish one goes through. 24 years old…raped and pregnant. I don’t remember how long I sat on the closed toilet staring at the test. At some point, it faded out of that vision and that fateful day roared in my head. I threw up in the sink. The thought of carrying something for 9 months that I didn’t want or ask for was disgusting. There was not even a minor feeling of joy. This thing was a parasite inside me and I had to get rid of it. I know me and I knew there was no way I could love anything given to me in the most violent of ways. I may not have had control on how I got pregnant, but I would be in control of the ending result. I got an abortion. And not the pill kind. I will spare you the details of that. My male BFF took me and within a few hours, I walked out unpregnant (and I know that’s a made-up word) and the desire to go to therapy to get my mind right and come to terms with my experience.
I haven’t told anyone my story because I wanted to keep it to myself. I tell you now because with the current issue up for debate, there will be women who will be attacked like me…but will be forced to carry a baby to term. Some may want to keep it, some may not want to keep it. We all know where the presidential nominees land on the issue of abortion. Being pro-choice does not mean being pro-death. It simply means giving someone the option to do with their body what they want. When you go into the voting booth in November, if you remember nothing else…remember me. I am here. My story exists. And I am your friend.