What being raped taught me about Love
Plus Patty's story of Alchemizing trauma into Empowerment
We’re walking happily in the rain to the jungle park. Two girlfriends in their early to mid-20s, chatting about our spiritual path and how we will go to the park to meditate on “how to remain positive even when difficult things arise in our lives.”
(Oh, how tender I hold that sweet past self in my heart today.)
We walk ten minutes into the jungle before settling into a clearing. I finish before C, open my eyes, and take in the serene surroundings of the verdant trees and bushes around us. I take out a bright yellow passion fruit I had in my shoulder bag, my favorite bag - brought all the way from Sweden to where we are in Costa Rica.
C is shifting out of her meditative lotus position, just a few feet in front of me. That’s when I hear rustling in the woods to my right. Two young men appear from the vegetation. My first inclination is to say ¡hola! to the newcomers. Then I see the large machetes in their hands.
Everything freezes.
Then follows a series of moments.
The moment they split up and go to one of us.
The moment they demand that we hand over our money and my camera.
The moment they look at each other and decide with a silent look what will come next.
The moment I know I have to go along with what’s happening to survive.
The moment I decide that I will not die and I will not get penetrated.
The moment when I look into the black pools that are his drug-induced pupils. Thinking: “You will not take anything from me.”
The moment I dissociate, leave my body and float in the leaves above us.
The moment he hungrily bites my left breast.
The moment I hear my loved friend yell out in desperation and fear and I can’t do anything.
The moment his face is between my legs.
The moment he rubs his limp dick against me.
The moment it’s over.
The moment the healing journey begins.
There are few things as glaring as an extension of patriarchy as rape.
Yes, we are jumping directly into the deep end of the pool. I promise to give you a warm towel by the time this piece is over.
Each person’s story who has experienced sexual violence is different, but one thing we all have in common: having been robbed of our agency where someone has used their power over us to have an experience they force on us.
Patriarchy’s essence = Grabbing power and using it to overpower others
This happens in covert and overt ways constantly, but the most egregious way is forcing something meant to be a sacred, consensual act and making it into a place of wounding.
By this heinous act, the victim is left to grapple with being violated, and there is a sense of being robbed of something vital: Your innocence.
This specific flavor of trauma, the extraction of autonomy and violation of consensual intimacy, tends to leave a void. And that void most often fills up with shame.
The victim gets branded with an invisible mark of being spoiled somehow. It sometimes is burning hot and other times lies dormant, only to flare up at any triggering moment.
The trauma of being raped or sexually assaulted can be shattering, leaving you feeling scared, ashamed, and alone or plagued by nightmares, flashbacks, and other unpleasant memories. The world doesn’t feel like a safe place anymore. You no longer trust others. You don’t even trust yourself. You may question your judgment, your self-worth, and even your sanity. You may blame yourself for what happened or believe that you’re “dirty” or “damaged goods.” Relationships feel dangerous, intimacy impossible. And on top of that, like many rape survivors, you may struggle with PTSD, anxiety, and depression.
Source HelpGuide.org
There’s a reason that rape is a common war tactic to intimidate, humiliate, and punish opponents.
The act forces the victim to contort and begin relating to themselves as “damaged” somehow. And “damaged” people are easier to control.
I am baffled that the myth that rape is about sex still exists. It’s not about someone not being able to control their sexual urges. It’s about power, dominating and controlling another human being.
I am thankful my rape experience didn’t happen as it most commonly does: by someone you know and trust.
Yes. Thankful. Because I know it would have been harder to process the betrayal of someone I knew and trusted vs. an unknown person. I know this because of the girlfriends I have in my life who have had to walk that path, and it’s tough.
We very much still live in a victim-blaming society. What did you do to provoke this act against you?
The fact that a human can have such a thought shows me how sick our society has been and still is.
Let me be clear: no circumstances excuse the behavior of forced sexual acts.
But still, the victim bears the brunt of a situation forced upon her.
If you have been at the receiving end of sexual abuse, I will tell you what one of my best friends told me when this event resurfaced again 16 years later this past weekend for a deeper layer of healing: repairing my deep wound with the Masculine:
“I’m so deeply sorry this happened to you. It should have never happened. And I wish you never would have had to go through this.”
As spiritual people, we know that healing can come from any situation. But just because something happened and we can extract meaning doesn’t mean it isn’t horrible and monumentally sad that it did.
And no, I don’t believe “everything happens for a reason” in the way that that phrase gets tossed around.
My journey of healing has been long and sometimes unbearable. That’s when I reached out to friends, healers, therapists, and family for help.
That’s also when I have reached into the depths of my heart for a reconnection with my Source/God.
Within the unseen connection with Love, I found a non-refutable truth:
My essence is a spark made from divine stuff.
At my core, I am good and whole.
By living through my worst nightmare and dedicating my life to healing, I found this truth:
There is NOTHING anyone can do TO me to reduce my inherent worth, innocence, and pure goodness.
But I do believe there is a high cost to a human’s inner life when you take another person’s free will from them in such a violating way.
When I think of my abuser now, I hope that he, too, has returned to his own innocence. Because the justice I am looking for is for him to face himself and his actions. The pain and abuse oozed out of the very pores of this man. I can only imagine what kind of a life he had leading up to our paths crossing. While he tried to gain power over me by bypassing my autonomy, he only proved one thing in the end:
Love is bigger and stronger than anything he, or anyone else, could ever “do to me.”
This is not a message that says “only love is real,” and this was just a “holographic experience in the matrix.” Fuck that noise as my friend and collaborator Rocco Jarman likes to say.
It’s my lived experience of trauma rupturing my sense of safety in Love and my way back there, to the place that I never left: Love. You feel me?
I believe that, yes, at the deepest level, only love is real. But that does not mean we cannot inflict horrific harm on one another. People do it daily and minimizing and magical thinking it away will not work. We need to sober up and look and what is happening.
Everywhere I look, I see evidence of humanity's continued pain.
And at the same time, and I acknowledge that this might sound absolutely batshit crazy, the experience of being raped and finding my way back to my innocence that never left me tells me that we can safely go about hurting one another temporarily while doing no damage to our eternal selves.
That does not mean we should not try to do everything in our power to tend to ourselves and each other with as much grace, kindness, and respect as we can. Because we absolutely should. It’s the mature, loving, and right thing to do.
No human, especially no child, should ever experience abuse and neglect. It’s intolerable - we must keep doing our part to end it.
So, I will do my best to stay connected to the truth of that Love I am and to care for myself the very best I can so that I can be the expression of Love this world so desperately needs, starting with me.
I have persisted in believing that love heals all things, even when it felt like my whole world was painted black. And this past week, my unbelievable, brave, sometimes defiant stubbornness to believe in Love paid off.
I came back to a place where the Divine and I are one. Reunited. Vast. Good. Whole. Pure.
I so very profoundly wish this experience for all humans on this earth.
So my prayer, my wish, and my blessing is this.
May you know the Love that lives inside you now and always.
May you have the strength to turn toward the places where you have been hurt.
May you be willing to face the times that you have been the source of inflicting hurt.
May you know your inherent worth.
May you take absolutely no shit and abuse from others, becasue you know that healthy boundaries are the highest form of love.
May you speak your truth and your story with a stong back and a soft heart.
May you go your favorite place in nature, sit down and meet yourself there.
May you see the impossible beauty of what and who you are.
And may you find a way to come home inside yourself.
For good.
From my heart to yours, 💜
Karna
Patty’s Legacy of Turning Trauma Into Empowerment
If you’ve been following me a while, you know that the death of my friend Patty changed me to my core.
Here’s an article I wrote about her a while back.
Patty’s presence in my life is large, even after she has crossed over to the other side.
While I was deep in writing this new article, my dear from Kara, who introduced me to Patty, sent me an email with a speech she spoke out loud for Patty before she died, but was too sick to do herself.
I asked Kara if it was OK if I included part of her speech in this article. Kara and I are both committed to continuing Patty’s legacy, so I knew she would say yes.
Please know that some of what follows is horrific, but it’s necessary that we understand what’s happening so we can be part of the change.
Here is Patty’s story.
No one knew her name or where she came from.
We did know she was HIV+ and had been brutally raped.
She was two years old,
The police found her around midnight. She’d been thrown in a filthy trash bag and left on the side of the road to die.
I went to see her the following morning.
I was working in South Africa, with the police and other organizations that rescued children and infants that had been raped. Many of you may know about the tribal myth that suggests having sex with a virgin child will cure AIDS. Suspend judgment for just a minute.
Think of the staggering fear and superstition that went into building this myth.
Education is the only way to unravel it.
My work, while I was in S. Africa, included going to schools and teaching children about HIV and reporting abuse.
Other times I'd ride with police officers to go on suspect raids. Those were typically in the middle of the night to catch the perp off guard. I would accompany the child to the hospital and then follow the case through the court proceedings.
On this day, though, when I went to see this 2-year-old little girl, there was nothing left to do.
She had been taken to a home for abandoned children to live her last few days. I walked into the house and finally spotted her lying on the couch. I tried to push the dogs and dirty clothes out of the way to get to her. Her body was on fire with fever. She was barely alive, semi-comatose. I held her on my chest. I had nothing to offer this baby except the sound of my heartbeat.
I can still feel the imprint of her body on mine.
At one point, the little girl opened her eyes wide and stared directly into mine with such clarity.
Time stood still. Remember; she was unconscious.
We connected through a portal that seemed to go back lifetimes. Lifetimes of women and children being raped and discarded.
She wasn't looking at me in a pleading or frightened way. There was so much depth and wisdom there. It was as if her eyes were simply saying to me,
You are here as a witness in this moment because you need to DO SOMETHING.
She died the next day.
I tell her story to honor her brief life and a promise that I would do something. Today I am using my voice in memory of those who have lost theirs.
Alchemy
My name is Patricia Melnice, and I am the founder of Tough Angels, a grant-making nonprofit, powered by a program we call Rings of Hope.
Today I want to talk about alchemizing trauma into empowerment.
The definition of alchemy is:
A transmutation of matter, to convert base metals into gold.
A magical process of transformation or creation which happens in a mysterious or impressive way.
Let me tell you how I got here.
I was sexually abused from the age of 4-7.
I was not protected as a child, nor was I believed.
The fact is I was punished for being disrespectful when I tried to disclose.
I was forced to stay overnight with this person. Finally after four years, the abuse was undeniable.
The overnights ended, but it was never spoken about.
Fast forward to young adulthood.
I was gang raped at the age of 20. I followed the same pattern of shame and self-blame I'd learned as a child.
I stayed stone silent about it for 30 years.
Volunteering to help abused women and children is where I found my healing.
Even though I have volunteered most of my adult life, I never aspired to have a nonprofit.
I did not foresee my life taking this fork in the road. But sometimes life has different plans -
For instance, I found myself standing in the wreckage of a divorce after 24 years of marriage. This was a pivotal point in my life so I chose focus on something bigger than divorce.
I packed my belongings, took a leave of absence from my job, and left on my own for South Africa. That one decision changed the course of my life.
I believe there is can be alchemy to trauma. When you step from victim to survivor, a powerful transformation happens. When you are a survivor, you are in charge. You inhabit a different attitude. You step into taking your power back.
All of us in this room have survived something. And the power of alchemy lies in the choice.
Do we allow such atrocities to tarnish us, or to be an opportunity to shine and grow?
Rings of Hope
When I returned from Africa, I created Rings of Hope to fund projects that assist women and children of violence. We also provide school grants to at-risk street children.
People donate their old wedding rings, broken, unused, or unwanted jewelry.
I then take it to a refinery and have it melted down, and this becomes funding for our projects.
Many people who donate have experienced their own loss: divorce or death.
Something that would have remained in the bottom of a jewelry box now takes on a new value as something that can help others.
Right there, that's alchemy. Taking something of little value, compounding it, transmuting it and transforming lives.
I was invited to be on a steering committee for the Kenya GBV Initiative. We began in Lodwar, Kenya - The area that is host community to the refugee camp, Kakuma. Studies showed high rates of domestic violence and rape. We gathered with tribal chiefs, women, pastors, and community leaders. I was so excited to talk about building a Gender Based Violence center and introducing alternative healing modalities like art, music, and dance therapy. The women looked at me blankly. I said to them, "You are experiencing rape and violence, correct?"
Yes, of course - but we need water.
It has been a steep learning curve. Our committee regrouped and put in water well first, followed by a women's sustainable agriculture project. They needed to be seen and heard. Our biggest mistake would've been deciding for them what their needs were. Truth is, rape and violence were not the worst things in their lives. They needed food and water.
Since then, the women have learned to farm, are bringing food home to their families, and are making an income.It has dramatically decreased the incidents of rape and violence by changing their social status in a patriarchal culture. Their healing came through farming. They have created their own beautiful masterpiece in the field.
They stand taller. They are proud. They are respected and valued.
They are living alchemy.
Experiences like these that make me realize transmutation is possible.
I have accepted the Universe appointed me to this pulpit. To be honest, I don't always like it, but I have seen too much. I understand too much. If I do nothing, I am now culpable.
I will not ever pretend this is not my problem . . . whether it's happening to a woman or child in war-torn Africa,
or the child next door who is being raped by the nice Sunday School teacher.
I’m pleading with you to Join me - Vow to stand in unshakable solidarity with other survivors.
Listen without judgment. Believe them.
Help them make the leap from victim to survivor.
Tell your story to empower others.
Dance, paint, sing your story!
Plant your story in the earth like the women in Kenya.
Keep using your voice to speak out.
I assure you, People will be uncomfortable.
They should be uncomfortable!
Don't let that silence you.
Raise hell until everybody listens.
Awareness is our first line of defense and our only hope to bring an end to this.
That will only happen if we shine light into the dark closet where rape and violence is silenced.
Together, we can Alchemize trauma into empowerment.
What I wish someone had told me after I was assaulted
I didn’t get good support after being raped. I didn’t know how to ask, and my community didn’t know how to give it.
Here’s a small road map that might be useful if you or someone you know becomes a victim of sexual violence.
Let them know that something terrible has happened to them that will impact their life. Tell them that it’s essential to seek professional help for this exact trauma.
Share that this trauma lives deeply in the BODY and talk therapy only will not help heal the wound inflicted on them. They will need to get help with some form of somatic healing.
Let them know you are there to listen without judgment or advice when they are ready to talk. Let them know this repeatedly, with gentleness.
Tell them that what happened to them was not OK. And no one has the right to take the autonomy of another being, and that what happened is not a reflection of them, only a reflection of the perpetrator.
Let them know that 100% of what happened was not their fault. And even if they think some things might have contributed to the situation, regardless of what they did, they are not responsible for getting sexually abused and assaulted.
Share with your loved one that healing is possible and that they will get better. But it will take time. And sometimes the trauma will come back when you least expect it and this is normal. It just means that you are ready and able to do a deeper layer of the healing.
It’s important to start learning how to self-soothe and practice inner mothering. When you get triggered, slow everything down and tend to the traumatized parts.
Let them know that in time, you can alchemize your pain into something powerful, but that process cannot be rushed.
I hope this will serve you or someone you know and love.
There are no words to tack on to this. Thank you for sharing and for healing. Whatever way you opened up for others with this much grace and conviction I know will become a way others can follow.
“Listen without judgment. Believe them.
Tell your story to empower others.
Keep using your voice to speak out.
I assure you, People will be uncomfortable.
They should be uncomfortable!
Don't let that silence you.
Raise hell until everybody listens.”
Wow. Thank you for sharing your story, sister. Thank you for speaking out.
I’m so sorry you’ve had to live that nightmare. I’m so proud of you for all the healing you’ve done. And a deep bow to your courage to speak up.
I’m sure Patty would be proud. You’re a hell-raiser-with-love and I love that about you. 💗💪🏼
May your story wake up those who need to wake up and comfort those who need comforted.