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So I& #39;m going to share my story of sexual assault that happened 38 years ago when I was 15 years old. I worked on a vegetable farm and there were times that I worked alone with the farmer. My sister and I would spend the nights on the weekend and get up very early to go to market.
I got to know the farmer& #39;s family, including his wife, his teenaged son, his adult daughters and their husbands. It felt like a second family to me and they treated my sister and I pretty well, feeding us lunch each day that we worked, from sun up to sundown throughout summer.
One day, I was at the house alone with the farmer. We were having lunch, the typical sandwich and grape koolaid, before we were going to go out into the field to pick corn. As I was eating, he came up behind me, put his hands around me and grabbed my breasts. I froze.
Didn& #39;t know what to do. Finally pulled away from him and laughed loudly behind me. Then told me it was time to go out into the field to pick corn. I got up from the table, followed him out, got into the truck, and we drove to the field.
Once we got to the field, he turned off the truck, then moved over towards me, shoving his hands down my shirt, grabbing at my breasts again. I was petrified, but the only thought I remember having was that if I left work early, my parents would kill me.
He continued to grope me, and his hands started to move down between my legs. I let out a loud "no" and he pulled back and laughed telling me that I would get used to it just like "all the other girls did."
We got out of the truck and started picking corn, all the while he would brush up against my breasts, or grab them as he picked and I collected the ears in the basket that I was holding. I wanted to run away so badly, but I didn& #39;t. It made no sense. I felt trapped.
Finally one of his sons-in-law showed up and his entire demeanor changed. He told me I could go home and ran to my bike and pedaled furiously the couple of miles back to my house.
I went upstairs to my bedroom, sobbing. My sister came into my room and asked me what happened. I told her and then told her I didn& #39;t want her to tell our parents. She said they had to be told, but I resisted.
Our voices and my sobs must have been heard by my father because the next thing, he came running up the stairs saying "what did he do?!" And then I was forced to tell him and my mother. I was so ashamed and humiliated.
My parents decided the best thing to do would be to confront the man, at his house, at the table where the sexual assault first started. I sat there and listened to him deny and say that all he did was accidentally brush against me as we were picking corn.
I stood up, pointed my finger at him and screamed, "YOU& #39;RE A LIAR! YOU& #39;RE A LIAR! YOU& #39;RE A LIAR!" My parents had to pull me out of the house and I walked behind them in the driveway back to our car.
I could hear them talking about what had happened and my mother asked my father if he believed me. He said of course he believed me and asked her if she believed me. She said no because if it had happened to her, she wouldn& #39;t have reacted that way.
They scheduled sessions with a psychologist and I was subjected to hypnosis several times until I was able to recall what I went through, including being able to taste the koolaid that I had been drinking that day and commenting on it.
The psychologist finally issued a letter to my parents that he believed the story I told, that I was credible, that what I said happened, did happen. And that was that. No one notified law enforcement. Nothing happened to the man who sexually assaulted me.
A few days later, one of his daughter& #39;s called to ask me if I wanted to work for them on their farm. I thought that was weird because I had just accused her father of a terrible assault, but I needed the money, we lived in the country, jobs were scarce, so I did.
When I turned 16 years old and got my license, I was still traumatized to the point I would drive back and forth by the farmer& #39;s house, hoping I would catch him crossing the street so I could run him over and kill him.
Fortunately for me, that never happened. My life would have been even more terrible if it had. I dealt with relationship issues and well into my 20s, finally got counseling to start healing.
About 20 years after the assault, my mother called me to tell me that a state trooper had stopped by and wanted to talk about my assault. I called and made an appt with him, went in and told him my story.
The farmer was working on a cold case of a murder of a prostitute and the farmer was a person of interest. Through his investigation, he found out that he had sexually assaulted and raped numerous teenage girls, including his own daughters.
This happened both before and after my own assault. I did feel some guilt about that, but mostly, I felt vindicated. Someone finally believed me. The trooper shared with me that my mother broke down crying when he told her he was looking for me and why.
She has to live with how she dealt with that for the rest of her life, but I have talked to her truthfully and oftentimes brutally about it and she is genuinely remorseful.
It also made sense to me why one of his daughters would want to hire me even after what I had accused her father of. She was a victim too. The farmer died shortly after the cold case was reopened and never faced justice for what he did.
