Thank you for sharing this. A couple of years ago, I started down the rabbit hole of evidence that autistic people experience higher rates of sexual assault and domestic violence and it was both affirming, in that I saw I was hardly alone in having so many of these experiences, and horrific in such a way that I couldn't even do anything with this information beyond bawl.
There came a time when I thought maybe I was finally old and wise enough to avoid sexual assault, and I was so wrong. Only my partner knows about the assault that happened when I was 43, which was a year or so before I finally recognized autism in myself. I have still been working through feelings of anger and self blame for social obliviousness and naïveity that leads me to be so easily backed into literal corners, while knowing logically, in the end, that the other person is still the one who didn't care to seek my consent. I've questioned whether I'm as externally obvious as I think I am in my mind that I am not interested or showing my displeasure. Were my facial expressions and body language not obvious enough? Were my vocal objections not obvious enough? Was I, conditioned as I was from childhood to be accommodating and polite to men in my outwardly womanly form so as to not provoke cruelty and violence, not harsh enough with my assailant to get the point across? Would it have mattered?
I have often thought about writing about it, but to what end? I'd be preaching to the choir of all others who have existed in a feminine form, especially my fellow neuro"divergent" readers. I struggle with seeking the relief it might bring me with the fear of the online hatred and misogyny such disclosures tend to attract.
So anyhow, thank you for writing about it. I'm sad that you had to experience it, but thank you.
Thank you for sharing this. I'm saddened and angered to know you've also been through this, and that so many of us have. I understand the fear, the need to turn the light on the dark places was stronger in this moment for me. I don't have a goal in sharing, but I felt moved to do so.
Thank you for sharing this. A couple of years ago, I started down the rabbit hole of evidence that autistic people experience higher rates of sexual assault and domestic violence and it was both affirming, in that I saw I was hardly alone in having so many of these experiences, and horrific in such a way that I couldn't even do anything with this information beyond bawl.
There came a time when I thought maybe I was finally old and wise enough to avoid sexual assault, and I was so wrong. Only my partner knows about the assault that happened when I was 43, which was a year or so before I finally recognized autism in myself. I have still been working through feelings of anger and self blame for social obliviousness and naïveity that leads me to be so easily backed into literal corners, while knowing logically, in the end, that the other person is still the one who didn't care to seek my consent. I've questioned whether I'm as externally obvious as I think I am in my mind that I am not interested or showing my displeasure. Were my facial expressions and body language not obvious enough? Were my vocal objections not obvious enough? Was I, conditioned as I was from childhood to be accommodating and polite to men in my outwardly womanly form so as to not provoke cruelty and violence, not harsh enough with my assailant to get the point across? Would it have mattered?
I have often thought about writing about it, but to what end? I'd be preaching to the choir of all others who have existed in a feminine form, especially my fellow neuro"divergent" readers. I struggle with seeking the relief it might bring me with the fear of the online hatred and misogyny such disclosures tend to attract.
So anyhow, thank you for writing about it. I'm sad that you had to experience it, but thank you.
Thank you for sharing this. I'm saddened and angered to know you've also been through this, and that so many of us have. I understand the fear, the need to turn the light on the dark places was stronger in this moment for me. I don't have a goal in sharing, but I felt moved to do so.