How do I Tell My Son I Was Raped?

My son is just about to turn five, and I am already dreading the day he is old enough to date. Not because he will be off focusing on some other girl, or that he will possibly be having sex. Let’s be honest here, it is most likely going to happen, you just have to make sure they are prepared for when it does.

No, I am dreading it because then I will have to have that talk with him. Not the birds and the bees talk, but the talk where I tell him I was raped.

Even now, almost 8 years later, it is still hard for me to say. I don’t know how I am going to be able to tell my son about that horrible night, but I know I am going to have to. I wish it had been something that that boy had been told by his mother, maybe then it wouldn’t have happened. But it did happen.

His mother never told him not to have sex with someone who is passed out drunk.
His mother never told him that no means no.
His mother never told him that holding down a girl that is too drunk to fight back is wrong.
His mother never told him that it is still rape even if you had slept with her before.
His mother never told him that one night could ruin a girl for life.
His mother never told him that every time I had sex afterward, I would think of that night.
His mother never told him that I would want to kill myself because I didn’t want to live with that memory.
His mother never told him I would never be the same again.
His mother never told him I would never forget.
His mother never told him I would think it was my fault.
His mother never told him what makes it rape, so I was raped.

There is nothing I can do to change the past or to undo the things that happened that night. I can not go back and decide not to mix alcohol with my pain medication I was on for a knee injury. I can not go back and change that I was dumb for being out and drinking at 16. I can not go back and change that I got in a truck with an ex boyfriend to talk and ended up passing out. I can not go back and change any of it.

But I can change the future. I can tell my son what happened to me. I can tell him about the years of nightmares I had and continue to have of that night. Of the panic attacks and anxiety I have just being around groups of people or alone with a man. I can tell him of my fear of taking medication and my fear of ever drinking too much in a group of people. I can tell him about how I withdrew from all of my friends and family, quit the waterpolo team, and almost dropped out of school because the fear of running into that boy again consumed my every waking and sleeping thought.

I can’t change the past, but maybe I can change the future for one girl who could be raped in the future if I didn’t tell my story. By telling my story to my son, maybe he will tell his friends why no really does mean no. By telling my story to my son, maybe he will look out for the girls around him and make sure they get home safe. By telling my story to my son, I can change the future; I just have to relive the past. I have to go from being a victim to being a survivor.

As moms, it is our job to raise our boys to make the right choices. It is our jobs to teach our boys how to treat women. It is our job to teach them right from wrong. No matter how hard it is or how much we have to talk to them, it is our job to teach them to that we can protect the other girls out there. We need to start teaching our boys to be responsible for themselves. It is not OK to treat a woman with disrespect because of what she is wearing. It is not OK to touch a woman when she doesn’t want to be touched. It is not OK to sleep with someone when they are unconscious, or under the influence of any substance. It is our jobs to teach our boys to be men because you don’t ever want to be that mother that didn’t tell her son.

This author has chosen to tell her story anonymously.