Romane is 18 years old. During the late hours of May 17th, a time in which men become wicked, she was trying to find her way to a college party, walking through the Bois de Boulogne, in Paris.
Romane was raped, and she refuses to let what happened to her get the best of her. She swore to herself that she would survive her attacker, that she would hold on to life as tightly as she possibly could. And so, she has decided to talk about it. On the day after her rape, she shared her story on social media, a small yet powerful text on Instagram. A few months later, she posted a very personal and brutally real text on Facebook, a text which takes us back to that night and forces us to powerlessly witness the horror, and the pain. A horror story through words of tremendous beauty.
Her social media became a platform for her to release these words, that can, “set her free”, she tells us. Six months later, she talks openly of the trauma, and enlightens us further on her words, in hopes that she can set others free as well.
We often think this kind of thing only ever happens to others. And yet it is happening to her
“It is bizarre, I know. But when he covered my mouth and dragged me, it was as if I had left my body. You block it out, so you can survive it. I was only a spectator of what was happening to me, which is also why I wrote so much of the text in the third person.
Try to understand her. She wants to live
“I asked him if he was going to let me live. He asked me why, said I would go to the police. After he was done, he told me to wait. That he’d be back. I didn’t know what to think. I don’t sacralize my body as much as my life. I wanted to live.
“He had thrown my phone in the lake, I had nothing on me. So, I grabbed my red coat, got rid of my heels, and ran. I didn’t know where he was, but I knew he wasn’t far. I ran for 1.1 kilometers, barefoot, in a sprint. I was surprised I could run that fast for that long. Stones and dirt got stuck in my feet, and yet I did not feel any pain. I guess your survival instinct really is something else.
“I cried for help. So many people refused me, refused to help me, dared to think they were somehow more endangered than I was. The only one that came through, that night, was Hugo. He is fifteen years old. He is a child. I probably owe him my life. While he was helping me, this guy drove by, he had seen me asking for help. He told him ‘you know you shouldn’t help her; she’s obviously deceiving you, she’ll take your money.’”
That means nothing – courage – I only survived.
I think I am only brave by default. Did I really have a choice?
“I understand where people are coming from. But not for one moment did I consider keeping this story to myself. I’ve always been a feminist, so I always tried to fight taboo and it did not make any sense for me to start now. It was so painful to have to tell the same story repeatedly, reliving it each time, that I decided to tell it once and for all. I believe it would’ve been braver of me to keep it to myself, because it required so much effort.
“The hardest part is reading through comments strangers make. People that never knew you, but still think they get a say in your abuse. Some say I was asking for it, walking alone at night. Others believe that I should not be exposing myself, that it is not victim-like behavior, that I should publish a book instead of a post.
“Although, I was lucky to have a great support system. My friends and family were tremendously supportive. My lawyer is great, fierce, reassuring, but ridiculously expensive. I am hoping the allowance will cover the 18,000 euros he is charging us. Don't get me wrong, I am so thankful to have him, he is amazing, and I am very lucky, but it is a heavy economic burden.
"I started having panic attacks at the end of August, and often find myself not being able to get anything done – nights are bright, and I am forced to skip morning classes so I can get some sleep. I need to see a psychiatrist and a physiotherapist, but not all of these expenses are covered by social security, and it poses as a huge economic burden.”
I will probably get to see you, because that option is often given to victims who wish to confront their attacker. What will I tell you then? Surely, that I forgive you.
“I thought they’d never find him, I didn’t get a good look of him, I couldn’t identify him. There was no footage. If they couldn’t get a match for the DNA then that’d be it. On August 1st, I got a call. They had found him. He had raped another woman at the end of July. I couldn’t believe it.
“I am choosing to forgive him not for him, but for myself: to free myself from the burden of hatred.”
Comments