Today is the anniversary of my sexual assault. Hard to believe it’s already been seven years. Even harder to wake up and read this, one of the most well known papers of record claiming clear signs of sexual misconduct are somehow not, in fact, proof of sexual misconduct (1/?):

Trusting partners after my rape has been difficult. But even more difficult has been trusting myself. A part of me will always blame myself. So every sexual encounter becomes me irrationally double, triple, quadruple checking “do I really want this,” “am I doing it again?” (2/?)

Seeing figures who once claimed to support MeToo, who claimed a stake in it, now make excuses for Biden is so fucking hard. We had a unique cultural opportunity to make a difference. We failed. And victims remain outcasted, forced to live our trauma on the margins (3/?)

You know someone personally who has been sexually assaulted. I can almost guarantee it. Each Facebook status or tweet or hashtag or donation you post in support of sexual predators, we see them. And it stings. Regardless of their party ID. (4/?)

I’ve grown a lot since it happened to me. I’ve worked through a lot. But it will always be part of me, imprinted on me. Days like today are still hard. Taking a break from this thread for now, but there are still some things I’d like to say, so, to be continued.... (5/?)