July 2018. One of my best friend's birthday celebrations. We met him and his friends in a bar then moved onto another bar together. I drank way too much and sat almost unconscious in the booth by the window. He came to sit next to me. Whilst people danced and sang and stumbled into each other just feet away from us, his hand went up my skirt. I threw up on the street outside after.

One night, when I was 15, I was sexually abused. I went to a party with my friends, drank a lot of alcohol and ended up making out with the host of the party. I remember telling him I didn't want to have sex, but I passed out and woke up naked in his bed. In the morning he forced me to have sex and when I refused to perform oral sex on him, he told me to leave immediately. It took me a while to understand what had happened that night.

It was our first of university. We were friends, until we weren’t. It took me everything to leave, it took him nothing to pretend he couldn’t understand ‘no.’ Or, that he couldn’t remember a single thing the next day. It was months of sleepless nights and never-ending flashbacks, but he? He slept just fine.

I was 6 years old. He was a teacher at the school and was 60 years old. I was in school uniform. The police thought I made it up because I was a child. 

I just want to live in a world where men realize it’s actually not okay to whip out their d*ck in public and start getting themselves off as they chase you and your friends around Soho.

My first ever relationship. I believed sex was expected of me. If I didn't want to I was hurting his feelings and didn't love him like I said I did. I didn't realise it was "rape" until 2 years after...people don't really talk about sexual consent within a long-term relationship. They should.

It was the last day of the school year. Whilst everyone was off celebrating the first day of summer, I had dance rehearsal. I begrudgingly took the bus to get to my dance studio which was located behind the train station of our small town. I hated taking the bus back then. Where I'm from, its not culturally normal to wear school uniforms, it was a sign that you were an outsider. I was used to getting stares and even taunts from other kids, my uniform was unusual to them. 

What I didn't expect however, was to get sexually harassed by grown adults. Grown men to be more specific. As I was going about my business, walking silently towards practice, I suddenly heard an eruption of shouts and groans. Whistles and sexual insults ensued. It took me a few seconds to realize what was happening but then it clicked, I was being cat-called by a group of construction workers. 

I had never been in this situation before and didn't know how to react. I froze. My feet kept walking but the rest of my body crisped up. I knew I didn't feel safe. 

I was so confused. I was confused because I didn’t understand who they were shouting at. I was a kid, surely they wouldn’t be insulting the child in uniform? But no one else was around, I was the only one walking there. And then I listened to their insults, I heard what they wanted to do to me because of the skirt I was wearing. The skirt from my school uniform. 

I was 13. 

We had been friends for a while but because of the pandemic I had not seen him in person for more than a year. I was wearing the dress in the picture, white sneakers and a jacket. We met up. It was fun until he suggested that we could go home to my place. I said no and that it wouldn't be a good idea but we both stayed out as we were having fun. It got late so he ended up walking me home to "ensure I got home safely." When we got to my flat he made up an excuse to enter and because I had already expressed that I didn't want him to stay there, I didn't think anything of it. However, that was when it became clear to me that we had very different ideas of how that night was supposed to end, as he started to kiss me. I kept trying to get control of the situation and get away from him without upsetting him too much as he had talked about how he would get into fights in the past and I was scared for my safety. It was clear that he wanted to stay even though I didn't want him to. I kept trying to convince him to leave. After what felt like forever he finally did. After he left, I felt confused and guilty. I never consented to any of it, but I kept wondering how and why he thought I did or if he just did not care.

Halloween 2019. My first year at uni. He was a "friend", he lived in my accommodation, in my block, on my floor. We went out as a large group and by the end of the night it was just us two in the taxi home. I was half passed out in the back of the cab, he kissed and groped me and put his hand up my skirt and under my pants. I remember crying, but not being able to say anything. He took me up to my room and then I blacked out. I still don't know exactly what happened. We stayed friends with him for the rest of the year. I didn't know how to process it - I even joked about the situation the next morning at Spoons. I stopped going out as much after that night. I wore baggier clothes a lot more. I haven't worn the skirt or top since.

Went home in an Uber with a friend of a friend that lived close to me. Passed out in the taxi, woke up to his hand between my thighs. At this point I was already indifferent to unwanted touches. 

(Outfit inspired by a University student) 

Happened with someone who I trusted and thought was my close friend. He just wouldn’t take no  for an answer. 

(Outfit inspired by a University student)

It happened at a friend’s party in first year. I was barely conscious and obviously drunk. A guy I  didn’t know took me to a place I’ve never been and did things to me I’ve never done before. I  don’t remember much. 

He kept reiterating that I acted sober, that I was sober. I lost my phone, wallet, purse and shoes  that night. Sober people don’t do that.  

When they later recalled the CCTV to me at his accommodation, they said I was so drunk that  when he placed me on the couch, I rolled off. I chuckled, I thought it was funny. They didn’t. I  didn’t understand. 

(Outfit inspired by a University student) 

I did everything ‘right’. I did everything ‘by the book’. I did everything society told me to. I waited until I had a boyfriend, until I was in love, to have sex. Just like in the movies. Except, what Hollywood fails to mention is that rape isn’t an act committed by a big bad wolf, by a scary stranger. Rape, more often than not, is committed by people we know, people we trust and people we love.

I had been with my high school sweetheart for 2 years. I trusted him. I loved him. He was my person, my safe space. One night, I came home from my first ever KCL Freshers event, drunk as many people at freshers tend to be. He was in my bed, stone-cold sober. That was when he took advantage of me. When he raped me. The morning after, I woke up naked in my bed with little recollection of what had happened the night prior. I didn’t realize I had been raped. I didn’t realize he had taken advantage of my inability to consent. It took me over a year to realize what had happened to me. For ages I blamed and gaslit myself; I’m the one who got into bed that night, I’m the one who chose to drink but even then, I wasn’t that drunk, I’m ‘sure’ I consented. He was my boyfriend, he would never do that to me anyway.

But then something clicked. A year later, I jokingly mentioned that night to friends who I had met for the first time that day, asking if I was really that drunk? They told me I had slurred my words and they shouldn’t have let me go home alone, that doing so was dangerous and that ‘something bad could have happened to me’ on my way home. The irony. If strangers, who would later become my friends, could tell that I was in no position to make any informed decisions, then my boyfriend of two years could tell that I was in no position to consent.

I was still in denial. I wanted to understand his actions so I questioned how I had reacted to all the times he came home drunk. Each time that happened, I gave him water, brushed his teeth and put him to bed. I took care of him. I didn’t take advantage of him the way he took advantage of me. It’s not hard to not rape people.

All this to show that rape and assault is never your fault. Clothing doesn’t cause rape; rape culture and rapists do. You cannot blame yourself for the decisions that other people make. And no, this rape wasn’t committed by a random scary stranger. It was committed by the ‘love of my life’.

He was my best friend. My ride or die. One of my first real friends at Kings. Have you ever had that friendship with a bond so strong that you know what the other is thinking long before they say anything? We had that. I had struggled a lot with mental health that year and he had been such an integral part of my recovery. He was so supportive and encouraging.He was one of the only people who knew my depression had been caused by a prior encounter with sexual assault. He knew that and still he chose to sexually assault me.

Over the summer, we were at a party. I was so excited to introduce him to another close friend of mine! We stood all together to take a picture, both their arms were around me. Suddenly I felt a hand on my boob. I looked down and told my best friend that his hand was placed inappropriately, that I was uncomfortable and that he should move it. I thought it was an innocent mistake and that he would of course move it and apologize. Instead, he told me “as if you don’t like it”. I was shocked and embarrassed.

I told myself that what he said was inappropriate but that it was ‘the alcohol talking’. I made excuses for someone I cared about. But, it happened again. Like many, he blamed his actions on alcohol, but alcohol is not a reason to sexually assault people. Sometimes you have to believe that drunk words really are sober thoughts.

Not only had my body been violated, but so had our trust and friendship.

I was harassed and assaulted twice that night in two different venues. First in a friend’s flat and then at a pub. In both instances, other men saw what happened, however, both garnered very different reactions. Whilst in the first instance, the other men who witnessed the assault spoke up, checked on me and held the person accountable, the second instance felt more like a case of seeing something but saying nothing, at least not whilst I was there.

I cannot emphasize the importance of accountability and keeping those around you in check. To ignore these actions is to invalidate the experience of survivors. By ignoring and turning a blind eye to friends’ inappropriate behaviours, you become complicit in allowing and perpetuating the harassment and assault committed.

At first, I was hesitant to categorize the events as assault or harassment. I questioned myself, asked myself if I wasn’t being dramatic? I was only groped, it had happened before and it happens to so many others.

But that’s the issue. The access and entitlement people feel towards others' bodies, especially in such sexual ways, is so perverted yet so normalized that its pervasiveness is almost seen as an excuse to accept this harmful behaviour. I refuse to accept assault as a norm in our society.