I was raped but never spoke about it – until one day at work

In a week-long collaboration with Real Women Real Stories, in support of UN Women's #HeForShe, we publish a series of videos in which women share their personal tales of trauma; from rape to sex trafficking and racist bullying.

Some of the stories are painful. But all of them need to be heard. First in the series, is the experience of New York Assemblywoman Amy Paulin...

As an elected member of the New York Legislature for the past 17 years, I have fought for laws to defend and protect the rights of citizens. For the people who voted for me, I am their voice in government; their advocate.

But sometimes it’s easier to be someone else’s champion instead of your own.

At the age of 14, young man - who I knew and trusted - lured me into his car and sexually assaulted me. Paralysed with fear, I was powerless as this older man ripped away my childhood innocence, leaving me trying to understand what happened, who was at fault and what to do.

My road to politics started early, when I was a teenager living in Brooklyn. By the time I was 14, I was a regular at the local Democratic Club - going along with a friend, whose father was active in politics. Afterwards we would join the other members for coffee at a local diner. They were in their twenties and always made me feel part of the crowd. Even though I was barely a teenager, now I belonged to this ‘cool’ older group and my opinion mattered.

One night, none of my usual friends were around and one of the regulars offered me a ride home. He was a twenty-something, someone  I saw practically every week and had got to know. He seemed so normal, so non-threatening. So I trusted him. Little did I know he would soon use that trust against me.

I think he pulled the car into an alley. Or maybe it was a schoolyard. Like many rape victims, I can’t recall all the details, although I can still see the darkness; the pitch black and the seclusion. There was no one around, no one to see us as he took from me what I wasn’t ready to, and didn’t want to, give. Afterwards, I went home and didn’t tell anyone what had happened.

Unfortunately, my story is not unique. According to reports by the CDC (Centers for Disease Control and Prevention), and the Ministry of Justice in the UK, one in five women will be raped or sexually assaulted in their lives, often by someone they know and trust.

Approximately 85,000 adult women and 12,000 men are raped in England and Wales alone every year; roughly 11 rapes every hour, and nearly half a million adults are sexually assaulted. Approximately 90 per cent of those who are raped know the perpetrator. Yet only around 15 per cent of those who experience sexual violence report it to the police.

Frozen in fear, they often can’t defend themselves. So many survivors of sexual assault are wracked with guilt and anger. They – we – are plagued with feelings of helplessness, shame, second-guessing and self-blame, when in reality the only person who is at fault is the attacker. Also like me, most of these survivors will never report their assault and their perpetrators roam free.

Experts say that recovery from sexual trauma takes time, and the process is painful. I don’t know how long it took me to heal. I honestly don’t know what healing looks like, only that I was not going to let that night shatter the rest of my life. He had already taken enough from me and I resolved he wouldn’t take any more.

I spent the next few decades reclaiming my power by tapping into this inner core of strength. Refusing to be forced into another unwanted situation, or to be told that I couldn’t do something overpowered everything else. Eventually I got married and had children, moved to the suburbs and became a staunch advocate for women’s rights. For a time, I even worked as the executive director of a battered women’s shelter. The original feeling of defenselessness I had at 14 became a wellspring of determination to help others who were vulnerable, too.

In 2000, I ran for a seat in the New York State Assembly. In my third term, I was approached by a group to sponsor legislation eliminating the statute of limitations on rape. Maybe it was avoidance - or a fear of what others would think of me if they knew - but after all this time I still hadn’t breathed a word of my assault to another soul – not even my husband.

Unbelievably, it didn’t even click why this particular bill resounded so deeply for me, so deeply buried were my own traumatic memories. I only knew that it was going to be a game-changer for thousands of New York women who were still waiting for justice from their rapists.

So I pushed for the bill. Hard. I approached it academically, preparing debate notes complete with statistics and quotes from experts, highlighted with colored Post-it tabs. I went to an important meeting with all the other Assembly legislators to discuss it armed with my binders, ready to argue and make the case.

But the strangest thing happened when I opened my mouth to speak. Instead of rattling off percentages and statistics about other victims, I started telling my story for the very first time – to a room full of stunned colleagues.

I finally shared what had happened that horrible night, so that they could understand that rape and sexual assault could happen to anyone, at any age and in any place.

In the end, the bill did pass and was signed into law, making New York the only state in the country to allow rapists to be brought to justice regardless of when they committed their crimes.

Not only is it an important law for women, it’s important for me. I see now that by suppressing my experience and not acknowledging the truth, I had never allowed myself to completely heal.

I am gratified to know that by finally sharing my experience I was able to take something so awful and turn it into a positive for others. After 40 years of silence, I found my voice.

To make a donation to this project please go to: https://www.patreon.com/ realwomenrealstories