Day 28...What's My Name? Take 2

I was raped.

I don't remember most of it but I do remember saying "No".
No means No, right? I mean, it's supposed to meant stop, cease, get away from me, leave me alone. Maybe it means something different when you've been drinking.

I was eighteen and I was so drunk and sick that there is probably still a vomit stain on my friend's carpet. I was so sick that night. It's hard to look attractive or be remotely flirty when you're lying in a pool of vomit. I'm not joking. I was literally lying in a pool of vomit with more vomit oozing out of my mouth as I lay there.

I'm sorry if my words aren't as pretty as they usually are but there are some things that just can't be said poetically. He walked into the room, took one look at an eighteen year old girl with vomit on her face and made a conscious decision to have sex with her that night. He made a decision to have sex with me. And because I was drunk, no meant yes.

Who was going to believe me? My parents were sympathetic but didn't know what to do. I'd already been hung up on by a call rape counselor who had probably spoken to so many rape victims that she forgot the most common courtesies afforded to most women in peril. She spoke to me on a speaker phone and the sounds in the background told me that the call had been forwarded to her home. There were sounds of children running and playing in the background as she walked around her kitchen banging dishes and running water. In between her household activities, she told me what would happen if I reported the 'incident'.

She explained the rape kit and that I would have to turn in the clothing I was wearing and how I would be heavily questioned and probably unable to answer any of the questions because I didn't remember anything about the 'incident' but the fact that I'd said no. How forceful was the no? Did i say it repeatedly? Did I fight? Is there a possibility that I eventually said yes?

I was silent for a while, crying on the phone. The call rape counselor, discouraged by my lack of words, hung up her speakerphone. I, discouraged by her many words, decided that maybe I wasn't really raped. Maybe the 'incident' was my fault.

I stopped talking about it and on the advice of people close to me, I decided to just chalk it up to one of those things that happened when I was drunk and be more careful next time. In other words, there was nothing anyone could do about it so the best thing to do was just forget it ever happened.

It's been almost twenty years and I still take three showers per day. Sometimes, I can still hear his voice and I have to squeeze my eyes a little tighter and scrub a little harder.

I'm not afraid of men, but I can definitely see how Ebony Nash, and then Ebony Taylor, allowed men to make her feel as is she didn't deserve to be treated as well as she treated them. I can see how foreceful and carefree and borderline mean I became when I allowed my alter ego, Ebony Farashuu, to take over.

I'm Ebony "MF'n" Farashuu. No one takes anything from me. I can replace any man who hurts my feelings or makes me mad...most of the time, within minutes. All it takes is a phone call.

For a little while,Ebony Farashuu ruled my world. She took no prisoners and she used what she had to get what she wanted and she usually got it. No one could TAKE from her and she gave only when she felt like it.

Ebony Farashuu is fun. She's flirty, she's pretty, she's talented, she's the one that the men chase because there is something about her that makes them wonder... what would it be like?
What would it be like to kiss her? What would it be like to touch her? What would it feel like to have her whisper poetry in your ear?

No one wonders about Ebony Nash. No one gives her a second glance because she's too busy taking three showers a day and hiding behind Ebony Farashuu.

And then I had to remember that there WAS someone who loved Ebony Nash. There was someone who never judged her or expected more from her than she was willing to give. I had to remember that on those cold nights when I took off my Farashuu and snuggled alone with my Nash, there was ALWAYS someone there with me as I cried myself to sleep at night.

God loved me no matter who I tried to be. And on another lonely, stress filled night, as I was about to let Ebony Farashuu express her frustrations....God intervened.

He sent an angel in human form and the first time my lips touched his, I knew that I was not only spiritually loved, I was physically loved. I could reach out and touch this love,I could see it in his eyes, I could see it in his actions, I could hear it in his words. He loved me. Not for who I pretended to be, but merely for who I was.

And suddenly...there are days when I only take one shower.

I'm Ebony Nash.