Can You Give Consent at 15?
TW: This blog contains themes of sexual assault.
I’m a senior who has absolutely loved my time here. Over the years, I was careful and tried my hardest not to make any dumb mistakes that would strain my mental health or ruin my future. Although I am fortunate enough to have not experienced sexual assault on Wake’s campus, I consider myself to be a survivor and an ally.
My story is not from my time on campus but many years ago. It started when I was a freshman in high school who had just turned fifteen. A month into the school year, I met an eighteen-year-old senior who I thought was kind, compassionate, and cute. As I am sure you know where I’m going with this, I wish that fifteen-year-old girl had the clarity that I do now.
When I started dating this man, it was the typical relationship where we would go on dates, he would impress me with his car, and do all of the typical things couples in high school do. I would pretend I wouldn’t hear the rude grooming comments classmates made, and he would brag about how he bagged a younger girl that was so naïve. I am not here to give details, but he took my virginity a mere three months into our relationship. Days after, he broke up with me. For months, our relationship would go on and off again, and he would push my boundaries further each time. At the time, I wanted it. I wanted to get my virginity over with, and I wanted to be known by friends that I was experienced. But now, when I am twenty-two years old, it is disgusting to think of how unacceptable this was. It is nauseating to think about how he was attracted to and wanted to have sex with a child. It is repulsive to think that this is something that I can never get back. To put the icing on the cake, after we broke up for the last time, he resorted to social media bragging about how I was “once a slut, always a slut, am I right?”
When we ended, I was heartbroken. At the time, I was swept away that someone much older than me was interested, and it wasn’t until I got to be eighteen that I realized how foolish I actually was. All he wanted was for me to give him the one thing I could never get back. During my senior year when I had this epiphany, I was ashamed, outraged, and I decided to push all of these feelings down. For a while, I pretended that this experience did not haunt me. Instead, I went into college delusional and happy that I’d had some sort of experience with sex. I was actually proud of how open I felt to giving details and discussing my sexual endeavors. I never got into therapy because whenever I caught myself thinking and shivering over these moments trapped in my head, I pushed them down even further. However, trauma always has a way of coming back when you resort to methods like these.
During this year, when the sexual assault protests happened, I wasn’t prepared for the rush of emotions I would feel since I never had before thought about if I was indeed groomed, manipulated, and sexually assaulted or if I was just mad for being so naïve and trying to make myself feel better. However, after time and reflection on everything I know now, I consider myself to be a survivor. I know this may not be the typical example someone thinks of when they consider what sexual assault is, but sometimes I feel myself shying away when someone opens up to me about their own experiences. However, it is mine, and I am valid no matter how I process these emotions.
I cannot urge you how important it is to receive professional help. When I realized that I desperately needed it, it was too late. I used alcohol and silence to cope with these issues, ending friendships over it. At the time, I thought that there was no need to get a therapist in North Carolina because I planned to leave the state in a few months. However, I was deeply mistaken when I learned that it does not matter what stage of life you are in because every single person needs some help.
At the end of the day, the only person who is in charge of your happiness is you. Sometimes, you just need to reflect and pick up the pieces of events that changed you. But in this moment, I am so proud that you are here, and I want you to know that you will be okay -- something that I keep reminding myself of as well.
-(she/her) class of 2022