An Uncomfortable Thing to Talk About...

A guest column by my friend Nikki Hoover...

BY NIKKI HOOVER

GUEST COLUMNIST

For me, it started at age 3.

By age 5, an in-law had completely stripped my innocence.

By age 10, it had happened too many times by too many different people.

In middle school, I had a friend accuse another friend’s parent of it. I also saw how she was treated by our peers for speaking out.

We are told we are going to ruin their future by turning them in for sexual assault.

What about our futures that they’ve already taken and ruined?

Never having a feeling of safety, even in our own homes.

Never being able to have normal intimate relationships.

Intrusive thoughts - every single day.

Fuck that. The mask is off, I’m done internalizing.

I’m done feeling ashamed and dirty for things I had no control over and covering up their indefensible decisions.

It’s time to have the uncomfortable conversations.

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Another uncomfortable thing to talk about.

But needs talked about…

Iowa law states child sexual abuse victims have up to 10 years after their 18th birthday to report instances of abuse they endured as a child.

After having my first son, a lot of feelings came forward and I turned in my in-law who had sexually abused me when I was 5 years old.

When I was 8 years old, I went with my cousin to his dad’s house. He pulled me aside and specifically asked me if I had remembered anything.

Fear hit and I shook my head no.

I’ve always remembered it, but that confirmation of it made it live in my head every day since.

I was great at pretending it didn’t happen until then.

Walking into the police station, I was terrified I wouldn’t be believed. The two officers I talked to never made me feel doubted. Whether they originally believed me or not, they treated me with such respect.

We cold-called him. I told him I remembered everything. He admitted it. All of it.

Then he told me the meth made him do it.

Those few months after were some of the hardest of my life. I won’t go into those details, but reliving it and some of my family’s reactions were hard.

Super fucking hard.

I was struggling with being proud of myself for coming forward, it felt right to do.

It made me feel more ‘unclean’ though.

People now knew and freely judged.

In our culture, I somehow asked for it or I lied about it.

Well, he admitted it.

So how did I ask for it? I was a five-year-old little girl.

He was an adult man with a child of his own my age.

He was sentenced to 5 years per count.

10 years.

He was out in two months.

TWO MONTHS.

White male privilege includes sexual assault.

This is why I have issues with a rapist in office.

And the ones who voted for him told me with their vote that sexual assault wasn’t a dealbreaker for them.

We now have men ‘joking’ about ‘your body, my choice’ and women have already lost the right to a safe abortion in many states. Even the ones who were raped, including young girls.

This isn’t a fucking joke.

I’ve never lived a day feeling safe or secure due to a piece of shit meth addict.

I never thought those feelings could get worse and I’m now questioning who would protect a rapist over me in my own community.

I’m not sure how many people were able to overlook sexism, racism, homophobia, xenophobia, rape, and 34 felony counts.

But it’s fucking embarrassing and yes, it hurts.

I will never understand why it is more shameful to be raped than to be a rapist.

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Thanks to my friend Nikki Hoover for this courageous post.

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I’m a proud member of the Iowa Writers’ Collaborative. Please check out our work here.