***Trigger Warning – contains potentially distressing material pertaining to sexual assault
Vigilante
My aunt and I both had come to the conclusion that it was time for me to return back to my family. My summer was scheduled to end shorter than planned, but it had been a long time coming because the end needed to be near. My summer basically ended the day I was sexually assaulted because life as I once knew it had changed forever.
As much as my aunt and my brain would try to erase those events from my life, the anger I had within me fueled flames that neither my aunt or me could not put out. My aunt was tired and rightfully so. I do not know what other victims of childhood sexual assault have experienced in terms of posttraumatic stress or healing, but it was certainly tough for me to navigate the avenues of my healing all on my own. It was tough because my aunt and others avoided my need to heal at all costs.
Even though there were others around me that seemingly wanted to help me, it seemed as if my aunt and a host of others were fighting against a system that did not value or help victims. Instead, the sexual assault against me was covered by mystery, innuendos, lies, and progressive means for protecting the attackers. Somehow the sexual assault had all been made to be my fault, and for whatever reason, I was viewed to be the cause of so many insurmountable problems.
Leaving the city was the best thing that I could do, but prior to leaving, the split part of myself decided to take matters into my own hands. Like a dog marking its territory, I went around imaginarily marking the city in a way to obtain justice. The last two weeks of my summer stay with my aunt marked the greatest time of my summer and the best time for my alter ego to shine. I was Vigilante. I was a warrior wielding justice.
Taking My Power Back
Towards the end of my stay with my aunt and after my runaway escapades, I ventured back outside a lot more than before. I found myself fearing the outside a lot less. Although it was not the brightest thing for me to saunter out into the night in an attempt to runaway, I found that doing so led me to being less afraid of the outside world. I was no longer as afraid anymore.
Life seemed to go back to some type of normalcy for me even though life for everyone else had always been normal with a few inconveniences for them because of the ramifications of the sexual assault I experienced had upon them. For the most part, I was the only one who was bound to the inside and never allowed to go back out again.
When I did venture back out, the farthest I could go was to the library, and my moves were watched every step of the way. However, after I ran away, I felt that I had gained a sense of power back. No one seemed to be as fearful for me. I had gone out into a dark city alone and survived to tell about it.
In fact, my aunt seemed to care less about my welfare after my attempt to runaway, and she punished me for it with her lengthy silent treatment against me for a few days. Even afterwards when she did talk to me, she was even more distant than she had been after the assault. Looking back, all I can think is that time with me had drained the life right out of her. I was a toxic mess on top of what she was already battling regarding her health.
Needless to say, I eventually regained freedom from fear to venture back outside again. Once I was outside, Vigilante appeared, and in two weeks, I regained a power against fear like no time I had ever known during my childhood. The sexual assault had not ripped the core part of empathy away from me. Instead, I increasingly felt it even more, and I went on to become an advocate for others without truly connecting with the sexual assault that occurred against me.
Hear Me Roar
I have a very vivid memory of my alter ego arising one day when I was alone in my aunt’s apartment. She was at work, and I was inside the apartment as usual listening to music on my Walkman. There was a knock on the door, and it just so happened to be my neighbor’s daughter from across the hall and some girls from across the street asking if I could come out to play.
At this point in time, I had been allowed to go outside with the neighbor’s daughter and the girls from across the street . Fortunately, my aunt allowed me to play with the girls across the street because she was friends with their mother. For whatever reason, I had become a phenomenon to them because I ran away. So I was somewhat of a celebrity to them which is strange because I had been previously been treated as an outcast shortly after the sexual assault. No girl was allowed to play with me. I was barred inside of my aunt’s apartment.
Now, I had at least three girls who were my friends, and Vigilante was my alter ego. The time I spent with them during the remaining days of my summer with my aunt were the best. It was the time I wished I had the entire summer, but enjoyed myself nonetheless. We had so much fun walking around the vicinity of the neighborhood, playing at the park, and playing made-up outside games. We even went to the second floor and made water balloons and threw them onto the ground to watch them pop.
At some point, a group of same-aged boys decided they wanted to ruin our fun. They began chasing us wherever we walked, throwing rocks at us, and calling us all kinds of negative names. They attempted to block us from playing our outside games and keeping us from walking around the block. They began hogging up all the outside equipment at the park so that we could not play. Their method of destroying our fun was to control how much fun we had, but my alter ego would not stand for that.
Over the course of a day or two, the Vigilante within me crafted a scheme. The girls and I filled balloons with water and hid them. Then we lured the boys to our zone (where we all lived) and then blasted them with water balloons. We chased them all around the area popping them everywhere. It was the most fun I had experienced the entire summer, and I felt free, unafraid, and empowered to fight back even though it was pure fun. It was funny to hear the boys squealing and screaming as we chased them.
Later on, we all shared a good laugh about the fun we had, and one of the boys – a twin – said that he thought that I was crazy but in a good way. They all hated that I was leaving because they felt like they were just getting to know me. It was as if I was given grace and a reprieve for my summer of suffering. The ending of it all was oh so sweet, and I felt that I had regained my power back even if it was simply play. In those moments of play, I felt like a child again even though a moment of horror had clouded childhood from me.
Stay tuned for more of my story.
My Voice Unchained 