One

It's been one year.

I found him on Facebook the other day. I'm not sure what I was looking for. Would he have changed his profile picture to show him wearing a red 'R' on his chest? No, he's smiling at the camera while taking a selfie. Would he have typed some public, vague apology in a status update? No, he's posting about transgender bathroom rights.

And it's like I have to fight all over again. I fight him. I fight myself. I fight everyone else's thoughts about the situation and opinions about me. All at the same time.

* Did it really happen? * Did I imagine it? * I said no, right? * Maybe it was just an accident * Maybe I'm overreacting * It wasn't that bad * He didn't really hurt me * He must have had too much to drink * I guess I was dressed kind of provocative that night * I'm alive, aren't I? * He can't be a monster, he's in the Secret Service * I shouldn't have had that much to drink * Why didn't I have more to eat? * I should have drank more water * I shouldn't have gotten in his car * I shouldn't have gone in his apartment * What did I think was going to happen? * He did apologize the next day * 

It's amazing what your mind will do to you. And keep doing to you. Even after a year.

Last month, a woman was raped at knife point at 10am on a Tuesday while riding Metro - Washington, DC's public transit system - the same system I use almost every day. While I was checking emails, getting coffee, and probably bitching about work - she was below our feet being forced to pull down her pants as a man tried to penetrate her.

And I thought, I'm glad that wasn't me. But then I remembered.

You don't think it's going to happen to you. It's something that happens to people who aren't careful. Or maybe "they asked for it" (Just so you know - by definition, you can't ask for rape). You think it's something you see on the news. Or it happened to a roommate's friend in college. But never you. Yeah, I thought that too.

It's been one year.

And I can tell you that now more than ever I have a voice. I'm angry. I'm angry that this happened to me. And I'm angry that this continues to happen to millions of girls all over the world every day. And no one is saying anything about it. Because it wasn't them. It wasn't their daughter. Or mother. Or sister.

It might not be you today, but it might be you tomorrow. Please start saying something.