We should institute a paper-bag mask and trench coat uniform for all would-be pervs. Make them so much easier to spot! Photo Credit.It started with running away.
The Backstory
At nineteen I was sexually assaulted by a boy whom I was dating, hereafter referred to as Very Bad Boyfriend. The physical toll it took on me was rather minor (I had a worse recovery from my appendix surgery and don’t even get me started about child birth). But after the dust settled, I realized that the mental toll was immense. I was depressed, withdrawn and suffered from frequent nightmares mixed with bouts of pull-that-crazy-woman-off-the-
But it had. I was forced to admit this when I discovered through a newspaper article that, five years later, VBB had done it again. And again. I called the police department that same day and made a report. By the time I hung up the phone I was shaking so badly that I threw up. This will be so healing for you, everyone told me. You’ll get to face him and show him what he really did to you. You can finally get really angry and justice will be served. In the end, after nine months of court battles, the only part of that that came true was the getting really angry part. He went to prison for three months and jail for nine but, strangely, it didn’t feel just to me. I still felt hurt. If anything, I felt more hurt by him. Dredging up all the old memories and then listening to what he did to the other girls only made me wallow in my pain and the guilt I felt for not reporting him sooner.
In an ironic twist, the day after he was sentenced, my third baby was born. And the next day I started running. Never having been a runner before, at first it was just running away. I couldn’t feel the emotional pain when I was in physical pain so as soon as I finished my 5 am nursing, I’d be out the door and into the dark. But my legs couldn’t carry me fast enough or far enough to escape my thoughts, or the ten pounds of post-partum weight than I had decided to focus all my misguided anger on. Running was a good release but I was still scared.
The Beginning
I thought perhaps muscles would make me feel less vulnerable so I took up weight lifting. My first gym was one of those really sweaty, kinda dirty, 80’s-metal-pumping gyms. It was fun to see muscles where literally none had existed before (How does one function without a tricep? To this day I don’t know how I was able to drive or lift my children or brush my teeth without that telltale little cut across my arm), but I was still riddled with insecurity, scared of my own shadow and plagued with nightmares.
When my husband decided to go to night school I was worried. “Why don’t you go to the Y,” he suggested. “Maybe try kickboxing? They have a class the night I’m in school.” “I don’t have any gloves,” I protested weakly. “You better start punching some bricks to toughen up then,” he grinned.
The Power of A Good Teacher
It was the head strike that sold me. “Imagine you are actually grabbing someone’s head and pulling it into your knee,” the instructor yelled. That I could do. I had crash landed in Turbo Jennie‘s TurboKick class. A petite blond with biceps that could crack a walnut, she projected a no-nonsense, slightly dangerous air. When she punched I could see people going down. By the next class I was looking around the room for a real specimen to try it on, preferably someone I wasn’t related to but I wasn’t going to be picky.
One day after class I decided to ask her. “Have you ever, you know, punched someone? For real?”
“Like in a bar fight?” Her eyes lit up as she considered it and frat boys everywhere got a simultaneous, inexplicable shiver. Then she waved it off, “Nah. But I was a competitive boxer in college.” That explained a lot. She wouldn’t punch your lights out and send you home with your pride in a take-out box but, by golly, she could. No one would dare mess with Jennie.
And that’s what I was lacking. All these years I had made it about him, about my attacker. When the truth was, the problem was with me. I felt weak. Scared. Ever-vulnerable. I was living in a world that felt unsafe to me and I didn’t know how to deal.
I know I’m not alone. A 2007 University of Minnesota study reported that almost a quarter of female college students had been sexually assaulted. Take four of your best girl friends and then ask them. Their answers might surprise you. My point is the world is a beautiful, exciting and fun place but a safe place? Not so much.
During the court case VBB said that he had picked his victims because he knew we weren’t the type to fight back. And here’s my dirty little secret: I didn’t fight back. I just cried. Sure he had the element of surprise, not to mention six inches and 60 pounds on me, and I’ve had enough therapy by now to be able to say that it wasn’t all my fault – a typical reaction of victims trying to control the uncontrollable – but what I did, or didn’t do rather, definitely affected the outcome. From the moment we went out together, VBB was in control. I let him set the boundaries, the mood, the location and almost every other aspect of the date. So by the time the battle came, I was exhausted, isolated and so far outside of normal that I lost the fight before it began.
I am not that girl anymore. Besides flat abs and arms that no longer wave like they’re sending a sailor off to sea, Jennie helped me regain confidence in myself, whether I was doing a roundhouse (and picturing my attacker’s head) or doing a body roll and realizing that it’s okay to be sexy again. I don’t have any delusions that the kind of cardio kickboxing I do will actually save me from a determined attack – I’m pretty sure no one has ever been TurboKicked to death – but I like to think it makes me less of an easy mark. I stand taller, walk faster and meet people’s eyes when I pass them on the street. If it looks like I’m sizing you up, it’s because I am.
The Appendix
A few weeks ago I noticed a teenage girl watching me in the mirror during kick boxing. I could tell she was trying not to be obvious but she was watching me. And laughing. During a break I approached her. “Hey, are you enjoying the class?” I asked, trying not to feel like the last kid picked in gym class. Grinning, she answered, “It’s great. I’m sorry to keep laughing but you just have this totally intense expression on your face. It’s like you think you’re really killing someone.”
That’s because I am, sister. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a brick wall to punch.
The Epilogue
Turbo Jennie has been nominated for the YMCA Minneapolis/St. Paul Instructor of the Year. I can think of no one who deserves it more. The ability of one teacher, who truly cares, to affect his or her students’ lives is profound. For any of you locals who are interested, here is Paul’s, Sarah’s and my letter of recommendation that we submitted to the committee. Good Luck Jennie!!!
Wow, thanks for sharing that. . . I don’t want to be that girl anymore either. It’s tiring and you just don’t get anywhere. You know my story, pretty much. And you know how my story has changed the past few months. While the story is still going through re-writes (which I’m glad of), I’m happy to say, I’ve lost 17 pounds due to doing things for ME. While I really don’t care about the # of lbs., I really care about how FREE I now feel inside. It’s amazing how liberating it is to not constantly have that sense of dread in the back of my mind. NO MORE. The jerks? They’re stupid.
WOW. I think there are a lot of people that will be glad you told this story so honestly. Thank you. There are a world full of women out there that share this story or something similar and as much as it sucks I have to admit it is nice to read something like this from time to time and remember that we aren’t alone.
I was gonna begin this comment with the word Wow, but looks like everyones got the same sentiment in mind. But, nevertheless, Wow! Thanks for tell your story.
Running and weight lifting have been a salvation to me since my sad and painful divorce, after my husband left me for a younger woman. My fitness experience has helped me through a growth phase that has enabled me to come out the other side of this mess a strong, able woman and a loving(and sane!) mother to two children. I only wish everyone could share the same sense of empowerment. Keep spreading the word!
It sounds like you have a great husband too! 🙂
I dont have anything more inventive to say that THANK YOU.
That I hope you are aware how many women I KNOW you’ve touched and helped by sharing your story in an empowered way.
By conveying your experience with strength and humor.
by refusing to be a victim.
This is such an inspiring story, as painful as it is to hear.
“Fighting back” can mean so many things, too, whether it’s trying to fend off a physical attack, or speaking up against injustice. I love the way you’re so good at inspiring others to “fight back” rather than remain silent.
I’m sorry you had to go through that, Charlotte!
As a Karate instructor, the first class that I taught was self defense for women. Although I always stressed a confident, non violent approach whenever possible, I did enjoy one story from a student who disabled one aggressive jerk with a double handed knife strike to his throat 🙂
Wow:) Thanks for all the sweet & supportive comments!
sariqd- I love you like a sister girl, and am SO proud of you for all the hard work you've done lately. Congrats on the progress:)
weelittleme – miracle of the Internet: discovering you are never alone!
kat – love your story and your motivation. A lot of good healing comes out as sweat, I think;)
andrew – I do indeed!
mizfit – probably more than I deserve but thanks!
crabby – thanks for the insight. I hadn't thought of it that way before.
dr. J – I wish I could take your class! And anything called the double-handed knife stroke? Awesome.
When I read, I see the beautiful side of the story… the one in which you’ve come out stronger and dedicated so much of your time helping others do the same 🙂
Thank you for sharing. 🙂
Thank you for sharing Charlotte. Yes, it’s frightening how many women have been sexually abused, assaulted etc… It takes a long time to work things out in your head, but releasing them in your body is what makes life… life again I guess.
Thanks for sharing this- the only times in my life that I’ve ever really been serious about running was when I was running away from things. Thats why I don’t run anymore- not now, not when I still associate it with running away.
Its really good to see how much you’ve overcome and how much your strength has grown!
I just wanted to thank you for sharing that story, as well as for the blog in general, this is one I check everyday to pick up my morning.
While I’m lucky enough to have a build that looks muscle-y and intimidating when I’m toned, I can’t really back it up (or at least, haven’t had training). I hope I’m never in a situation where I’d need it, but some sort of self defense class might not be a bad idea. Just like I know how to do CPR and use a portable defib machine – I hope to never have to do it, but at least I know how.
I’m so sorry you had to go through that. It’s great that you have come out stronger, and that you found someone (or something) to help you along that journey.
You go girl.
Inspiring me to actually let my husband teach me the Chinese kickboxing defensive moves that he teaches to his students.
Your story is well written, smart and thoughtful and Yes, it did make me think.
Thanks for sharing your story. I am a Sexual Assault Nurse Examiner-SANE. By you telling your story it makes feel much better about getting called out in the middle of the night. When I get called in, it is in the moment, not years later when the victims can verbalize about the experience.
Rebecca
first of all, as you know, I am so proud of you for fighting (literally and figuratively!) your way back, for putting that SOB in his place and for all of your hard work to help yourself become whole again.
Next, congrats to your teacher for the honor, and how nice of you to nominate her. I’ve had experiences like yours where a class teacher wound up morphing into something much more during a time of need. They deserve to be recognized.
As do you.
you kick ass charlotte!
thank you so much for sharing this.
charlotte, thank you for sharing your story with us and for getting the word out so that others will be inspired to “fight back” as well.
I am keeping my fingers crossed that Jennie wins!
Charlotte, What a tear jerking post this is!!! I was raped when I was 21 and the result was my fiance calling off our wedding, me drinking more than anyone should, sleeping with more random people than anyone should and an attacker that spent a mere 15 days in jail. Knowing that my classes have helped other people besides me rise up from self proclaimed ashes is overwhelming and goose bump creating!! Much Love, Turbo Jennie
Can I just say “ditto” to what has already been said here?
Charlotte, you are AMAZING!
Your words inspired a batch of intense feelings over on this end of the internet, more than my words can express right now. I’m immensely proud of and inspired by you, Charlotte. Thanks for your friendship over the years.
Charlotte, you amaze me. Daily, but more than normal on days where you post with such honesty about your experiences. I doubt I will ever get to where you are in accepting the events of my past that were outside of my control, but knowing you did brings me more hope than I had yesterday. Thank you.
I think it’s neat when people discover that they are stronger than they thought they were.
You have inspired me to stop wallowing in the pain I have experienced and to start my own tumblr about how I am going to take back my life and body. Thank you so much. You are a bad ass! 🙂
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