Male Survivor Observations on Speaking Out at Albany Medical College

I was asked by the Albany Medical College chapter of the American Medical Women’s Association to present for the 2013 Interpersonal Violence Awareness Week on January 8, 2013. As I am a member of the Speakers’ Bureau for both RAINN and the Virginia Sexual and Domestic Violence Action Alliance, I occasionally speak before college, high school and other organizational audiences.

The event was on Tuesday in Albany, New York on the campus of Albany Medical College. Not only were students in attendance, but several faculty as well as hospital chaplains. The program booked one speaker a day and Tuesday was my day. The hospital chaplains had the most questions, including one who works with inmates on a regular basis. I referred him to Just Detention International for information as they are leaders in working with the complexities that surround prison rape. I spoke for approximately 40 minutes straight and then answered questions one on one afterward. It has been several months since I did a speaking gig. I forgot about the gasps when I am telling my story and get to the part where she threatened me. People just don’t expect that I guess. Generations of social programming have convinced people that women just don’t do that – and never to men.

Whatever.

While discussing how the rape had affected me in everyday life, I discussed my plane ride that morning. It was prop plane with 2 seats on each side and about 15 or so rows. I was in an aisle seat, next to a young woman with some college sweatshirt on that I can’t remember. All I know is that I was having a mild panic attack as it was only about 5 hours before my discussion and I was nervous as always right before a public disclosure.  Yes, hundreds of thousands or so have read about my story online or seen me on HuffPost Live or podcasts, but a live audience in front of you is an entirely different matter.

I was tense and trying to reduce my physical space as I always do around women, basically folding in on myself. I wanted to reduce the possibility of brushing up against her accidentally in that tight cabin. It had me freaked out a bit. She leaned her head up against the cabin wall and fell asleep after we took off. I closed my eyes and breathed slowly and deeply until I calmed down. Then I took out my draft remarks and did some pen edits on the eight pages.

When I shared that anecdote, I think it struck home with some of the students on how trauma can affect you in smaller ways. I knew that young woman was no threat to me. That didn’t change anything about my reaction.  I just did my best not to make that passenger uncomfortable as a result of something she had nothing whatsoever to do with or could have changed. My reaction had nothing to do with her.  She was just unlucky enough to be sitting next a man who had been drugged and raped by a woman.  It must have worked because she was comfortable enough to not only sleep, but then rolled away from the wall and slept facing me the rest of the flight.  Great.

Rape and other trauma survivors often learn to wear masks that hide the hurt, the fear, the anxiety and the anger.  We have to if we are going to be able to function in everyday life, hold down jobs or do something as simple as stand in line to buy a cup of coffee.  I’m not going to have a meltdown in front of you.  I’m going to smile, nod, be pleasant and then freak out later in private – and often you are going to be none the wiser – because it is not about you.

Anyway, I didn’t expect that anecdote to have the response it did, but I guess the little things like that have a big impact in storytelling.