My Story

“The thing you are most afraid to write. Write that.”

~ Advice to young writers.

I have seen this pinned multiple times on Pinterest but never thought much of it until I was struggling with this blog. I have a lot of ideas; I cook a lot of really fun things I could share. I’ve read some really phenomenal books lately. I’ve done some pretty cool things lately too. But this one post has been in the back of my mind for a long time now. I sit down to write other things but somehow always end up back here.

This blog has, since its beginning, been a way for me to process and share my thoughts. I love writing, it is how I process everything. I have always felt that I am more accurately able to convey myself through writing rather than speaking. This is something I want to get off my chest. For me, there is no better way than a letter.

I am writing this for myself so I can move forward. But also for anyone who has ever gone through anything similar and felt alone, because you are not. Me too.

To the Man in the Alleyway,

I don’t know your name. I don’t know how old you are. I don’t know where I met you. I don’t know what you look like. I don’t know how we ended up in the alleyway behind the club. I don’t even know what club it was. I don’t know because I was drunk. The drunkest I had ever been. The drunkest I will ever be.

What I do remember is this. Your hands all over me, my breasts, my ass. Being pushed against the wall…I was so drunk I didn’t even comprehend what was happening until it was too late. And then all of a sudden I knew and I pushed you off of me and I ran and ran until I found a taxi driver. I tried negotiating prices with him for a solid 2 min while hysterically crying until a police officer came over and told him to just take me home for whatever price I named. He asked me what was wrong but I wouldn’t say. I was leaving Ghana in 2 weeks anyway.

Those last two weeks, my friends Emily + Liv held me up. I remember sitting, looking out over Lake Bosumtwi , just crying. Emily held me and stroked my hair for the longest time. Then we played a surprisingly fun game with two guys we met at the hotel where we were staying. It was something good in the midst of my hurt.

In that one night, I lost my sense of empowerment, control, and confidence. It’s almost funny, how fast your world can crumble. The girl I saw in the mirror the morning before was now shards of glass on the pavement. I didn’t know how I was going to put myself back together. I didn’t even know where to start.

But somehow, without even realizing it, I did start. I started to heal, to feel good, to feel strong, to feel empowered + confident. I decided that I wanted to run a marathon to do something good for my body, something brave and strong. It was a hard semester though, balancing school, work, friends, AIESEC, and the pain you brought me. I wasn’t able to train the way I’d planned and I ended up running the half marathon instead.

At first, I was disappointed in myself for not being able to run the full 26.2. But as I ran that half marathon, my lungs burning, my mind racing faster than my legs will ever run, I realized something. I wanted to run a marathon because I thought it would make me stronger. Instead, running the half marathon made me realize how strong I already am.

You raped me in an alleyway and a month later I got on a plane to Peru, by myself, without once looking back. And two months after that, I headed to Portugal. I became President of an incredible organization, I never skipped class, I did things that scared me. I looked, and continue to look, for joy and laughter and I still believe in people. It is what I am most proud of, you hurt me in one of the worst ways a person can hurt someone and yet I still believe in the unfailing goodness of humans. I still believe people are the most incredible, magical, part of life and I never once stopped believing that. Not even for a second.

It has been a long year, one filled with hurt and struggling but it’s also been a strong year, one filled with spontaneous plane tickets, climbing mountains, and doing things that make me feel alive. It has been a year of tears, hugs, late night chats, and best friends. It has been a year of resilience.

Someone once said to me, “You are not small, you deserve good things.” And that is what I would like to say to you, man in the alleyway. I have always been a forgiving person, this is no exception.

I am not a victim, I am a survivor and I am and will continue to do, a hell of a lot more than just surviving.