She Ran to Me by J.D. Myall
“Rape isn’t about a victim’s style of dress”
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She ran to me. She trembled and sobbed in my arms, lipstick smeared and snot dripping down from her nose. “He made me…” My eyes fell to her feet as she trembled in red stilettos. She didn’t have to say it… it was clear that a man raped her. It was four am and we were at a hotel party. She was a star-struck dreamy-eyed, nineteen-year-old college student before she slipped off with her favorite entertainer. When she came back, she was just another groupie.
The fact that she was crying and bleeding changed her from being a living blow-up doll to the men that surrounded us and made her become more of a problem in their eyes. The looks they gave us terrified me. They offered her money to shut her up, offered drugs. She refused it all.
The truth is that the guy she was with had a bad reputation with the groupies, most of them knew he was kinda rough, kind of insistent in bed and if they weren’t into that, they avoided him. She didn’t know. She was an Education major, a good girl, she didn’t spend enough time at parties like this to know his reputation.
I whispered, “Should I call someone? Police? Take you to a doctor?”
“No. Hell no! My mom can’t find out. Don’t want anyone to know. They’ll think it's my fault, they’ll call me a…”
Her words melted into more tears. Sadly, she was right. If most people knew what happened they would have probably called her a groupie, a whore, slut or one of the million bad words used to label women who dare to live in the truth that we were all created to be sexual beings. She went in his hotel room; that fact alone would have made her guilty and her attacker innocent to most of society. In their eyes, it would have made her culpable in her own attack, worthy of their scorn. She desired him, but he forced her to do things sexually that she made clear she didn’t want to do.
She sobbed about how she said, “No.”
When he heard that word he said, “Relax.”
She said, “Stop.”
He replied, “If you relax it won’t hurt as much.”
He forced her.
He left her coated in blood, semen, and the shame that he should have worn. She knew that if she went to the police, her story would become public knowledge because he was a celebrity. She didn’t want reporters to drag her name through the mud or label her a slut. She was young. It was a mistake. That doesn’t make her victimization her fault. She didn’t want her family knowing what happened. She wasn’t a gold digger, a slut, wasn’t after his money or his fame. She had daydreamed about him since she was a kid singing his songs into her hairbrush as she danced around her bedroom. Meeting him was a dream, a fantasy come to life… until he morphed it into a nightmare.
Until the moment he attacked her, she saw him as an idol; the problem was he only saw her as a blow-up doll, an item used for his sexual gratification. She wanted him to respect the word “NO.” He couldn’t respect her “No” because he didn’t respect her humanity. When people see you as less than human; they don’t have an issue with trying to pass you around or disregard your feelings. Groupies are vulnerable to that. They are easy targets because people assume they are whores or gold diggers and assume they want kinky, demeaning sex.
When an accuser said Kobe Bryant raped her; her name was dragged through the mud in the media. Her sex life picked apart and criticized. Her choice of clothing, the choice to go into his room; all of her choices became a reason for societal judgment. However, society forgot some important facts. The fact is; who you slept with yesterday and what you wore today, doesn’t make you immune to being raped now. Even prostitutes can become rape victims. Your clothes and your sexual history don’t make you responsible if you’re attacked. Victim blaming is wrong. Rape isn’t about a victim’s style of dress it’s about the victimizer’s lack of self-control.
As a society, it’s convenient to label groupies as bad girls, sluts or anything that distances us from them and makes us feel safe. People don’t want to recognize the reality that groupies are born every day. Born from daughters, nieces, little sisters, and cousins. They aren’t always some “bad lady” we don’t know. They are often girls who get swept up in a glamorous fantasy and try to get close to a life that they have daydreamed about since they were young.
They may like the parties and the excitement that comes along with the music industry, but it shouldn’t stop them for being valued as people. Even if groupies and young people experiment sexually, or take risks and make choices that are not the best, it doesn’t mean they can’t be raped. Rape victims shouldn’t be afraid to come forward because they may become bullied and slut shamed or forced to wear the guilt that belongs to their attacker.
Every day, in every city, there are lots of girls who walk through those hotel room doors without really knowing what is in store for them on the other side. It’s not always as pretty as their fantasy. Judgment and scorn won’t change this fact. It won’t heal society’s ills, only education and love can.
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Header image courtesy of Mirage. To view a photo by them for NAILED, go here.
J.D. Myall is a self-proclaimed literary lunatic, crazy about reading and writing is like breathing to her. Myall channeled her experiences in the music scene, including a stint as a groupie on an MTV documentary, into her debut young adult novel, Reckless Gravity. Myall is also a former army wife and survivor of domestic abuse. Myall went on to earn her BA in criminal justice from West Chester University, and has worked as a counselor for crime victims, addicts, and the mentally ill. She’s the mother of four children and will donate a portion of her book’s proceeds to help victims of abuse. For more information, visit her: here.