I was assaulted by my friend
I was assaulted by my friend at camp, when I was fourteen years old. He’d spent the summer harassing a lot of female campers, myself included. During the last night of camp, in public, he kept shoving his hand into my crotch. He said he would only stop if I let him feel me up, and so I told him he could. Later that night, he told everyone in his cabin about what happened, and I ended up spending the next summer with a reputation as a very slutty girl.
I remember that I was confused and hurt. I didn’t understand why he wouldn’t stop when I repeatedly told him to stop, or when I kept pushing him away. I spent a long time feeling as if I had made some sort of mistake, or like I’d engaged in some very inappropriate, shameful behavior.
I know that what happened to me wasn’t the worst thing to ever happen to anyone. A lot of people, including friends and family, have questioned whether or not I’m making a huge deal out of something that happened so long ago. But today, if one of my friends tried to shove his hand between my thighs when I repeatedly said no, I would press assault charges. I refuse to minimize what happened to me, just because I wasn’t physically hurt or raped, because it was still non-consensual, it still made me feel horrible, and it shouldn’t have happened.