This article includes detailed descriptions of sexual assault.
In the 2019 memoir Things We Didn’t Talk About When I Was a Girl, Jeannie Vanasco interviews the former friend who raped her as a teenager, breaking what she describes as a rule of sexual assault survival: “Boy sexually assaults girl. Girl stops talking to boy.”
Vanasco introduces us to “Mark” in her favorite memory of them together—16 and talking candidly in his car with the windows down—before revealing his offense: penetrating her with his fingers and masturbating over her body. Shortly after, he attempts an apology but the friendship phases out. Fourteen years pass by, and Vanasco reaches out to Mark again. This time, he agrees to speak on the record. He owes her that much, he says.
In the time that has passed, the way the world talks about sexual assault changes. In 2013, the FBI expanded its woefully inadequate definition of rape—“carnal knowledge of a female forcibly and against her will” to encompass: “Penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim.”
In Things We Didn’t Talk About When I Was a Girl, Vanasco poses a number of challenging questions: Is it wrong that she is sometimes nostalgic for their friendship? Can “nice guys” be rapists? Why does being raped by Mark haunt her in a way that being “traditionally raped” in her 20s does not? Vanasco is not alone in asking these questions. According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center, approximately one in five women in the U.S. report completed or attempted rape in their lifetimes, and a majority of survivors of all types of sexual violence know their perpetrators.
Reporting acquaintance rape—rape committed by someone like a colleague, intimate partner, or friend—can be particularly difficult because victims are often reluctant to label their experience as rape. Reading Vanasco’s story, I can’t help but think about my own: being similarly violated by a friend years ago. I can’t help think about all of my female friends who’ve shared their own stories and questions: Do you think that was rape? Did I resist enough? Am I making a big deal out of nothing?
On behalf of SELF, Vanasco and I talked about confronting these questions with friends, the importance of the language surrounding rape, and how hard it is to give advice on the topic.
SELF: It’s embarrassing to admit, but I tried really hard to continue the relationship with the friend who assaulted me. And I convinced myself that if we got romantically involved, it would make what happened right. I remember when I tried to talk to him about what happened, he turned it around, and I actually ended up apologizing to him. It was so toxic. Later, I found many of my friends had also been raped by someone they liked in one way or another.
J.V.: Wow, I’m so sorry that happened to you. I’ve met so many people in my research and this seems common: The guy becomes manipulative and women apologize to protect their feelings. I tried to maintain a relationship with the guy who raped me in my mid-twenties. Later, I came to realize how much of sexual assault is about power and not necessarily about sex or a level of attraction. In retrospect, I was mortified that I kept talking to him and wanting him to like me as a person. I think so many women don’t report because they judge their own behavior. They look at things that might have led people to think it couldn’t possibly have been assault because she kept talking to him or dated him.
Yeah, I still feel so ashamed. I feel like I could never tell people the whole story of how much I wanted him to like me even after he treated me like trash.
Wait, are you working on any type of book or essay? Because it sounds like such an important story.
Oh, no, but I do wonder how much of my personal life I want to write about publicly. Do you think that writing the book was helpful for you?
Absolutely. Had I not pursued the book, I don’t think I would have reached out to Mark. I did get some closure by reaching out to him and hearing him say what he did was wrong. That was helpful—putting down my thoughts and feelings, and writing through what I felt conflicted with how I thought I was supposed to think. And then the reception of the book, hearing from people such as yourself and other women and men who experienced sexual assault and having them open up to me. That was a hugely rewarding experience.
Do other victims of sexual assault or rape often approach you for advice?
People do, and I’m hesitant just because situations are so different. That’s what makes sexual assault very complicated in terms of punishment. There is so much nuance. It’s hard to give advice. I wish the justice system were better. I wish there were therapeutic treatments for perpetrators. I would have had such an easier time pressing charges against Mark or against the guy who raped me in my 20s if there were humane prisons where perpetrators were given therapy. Then, I would think he should be punished because the punishment would be productive.
It is really jarring to say the words I was raped aloud. I guess I don’t want to think of myself as a victim. Throughout the book, I noticed you becoming more comfortable using the word.
Survivors, we diminish what happens to us, and we think about all the ways it doesn’t fit into traditional or classical notions of rape. When I start reconceptualizing it, I realize—oh no, that was a very private part of my body that he violated. That’s why legal language can be so important. I think a lot of guys don’t think of it as bad because they didn’t use their penis. For them, the penis is the be-all and end-all and they don’t think about the violation it is for us.
For a long time, I definitely had trouble using the word. I didn’t want to offend any woman who had been "traditionally raped." When I talked to my friends about it, they were like, that’s ridiculous. What Mark did felt so much worse than when I was raped in my 20s by someone who used his penis, because with Mark, we had been friends for so long. It felt more insidious because while he was doing it, he was whispering and trying to comfort me and reassure me.
Being more comfortable with the word also allowed me to be tougher on him because early on, I was still apologetic and trying to make him feel more at ease. Are you able to use the word now or do you still have trouble?
I still have trouble, but I did at dinner just now. You’ve said you’re hesitant to give advice, but do you think it’s helpful to better understand what rape actually is?
Yes, absolutely. I think looking at language is helpful and I wish rape were talked about in high school. We never talked about it.
Recently, my partner and I were watching Sally Rooney’s Normal People. I loved the novel and the show portrays consent in such a wonderful way. The male character tells the female character, before they have sex, that she can stop any time, and it’s still very sexy. In a later episode, she wants to sleep with him but she’s drunk and he says no. What a great model. Often, pop culture is what shifts the conversation.
The more feminist texts I read, the more I researched the history of rape law, and the more I looked at how survivors were treated, I felt more empowered by having the language for it. As writers, language matters, and I think this is a concrete example of how language enacts change.
You also talk a lot about your friendships with women. I feel like when you’re in fairly progressive circles, you can take it for granted that women can talk about these things. How important is it for you to have these kinds of conversations with your friends?
Some of my friends and I disagree. Early on, one of my friends was frustrated with due process. She was like, "If a few innocent guys get caught up in it, oh well. I’m so sick of men getting away with this." And then I pushed back. I felt bad, but I said, "What guys are going to get caught up? Is that worth it?" I see it as hurting men of color and poor men. But we fundamentally agreed, and I think that’s how change happens: messy conversations within a movement.
Having these conversations with my friends is interesting, but so is talking about what happened to us. It was so helpful to share the transcripts of the phone calls with Mark with my friends. Initially, I was so impressed with Mark for doing the bare minimum but a couple of my friends found him so annoying. They found all these problems with what he said and it was really useful to have my friends support me and also, they got me to use more critical thinking in regards to the conversations. I don’t know what I would have done without my friends.
Do you think it’s ever possible to salvage a relationship with someone who raped you?
I have trouble imagining it. I don’t think that means it’s not possible. It would be a different relationship. For me, with Mark, I would have trouble trusting him again. I don’t hate him. I hope he reflects on this and is a better person. I can’t imagine being friends with him again.
Do you think it helps you to wish him well? That it’s therapeutic?
I know there is this idea to forgive and you will feel better. I don’t think that’s real forgiveness because that’s for yourself. I say I forgive Mark, but I also have trouble separating him from the person who hurt me. I don’t know if it helps me to wish him well but I do.
It’s interesting. At some point, Mark told me he "ruined my life." He didn’t ruin my life. I moved on.
This conversation has been edited and condensed.
Related:
