I was visiting a family member who was studying in a major Italian city, spending a few days in a very touristy place. Near the end of my stay, over a last drink at a bistro, we met some Americans who had been living there for a few months. I was invited to a party at their place that evening, so I decided to postpone my train back to the next day instead of leaving that night. My family member, who had other plans, left me with them after making sure I was comfortable staying. I was a young woman in my twenties then, cautious, I believe – not reckless in the least. I felt completely safe, even though they were all guys. We ate, drank – a fair amount, I must say – we laughed, sang, and had fun. Then, well inebriated, we all decided to go to bed. The guys each went to their rooms, and I set up on the couch, where they’d arranged a bed for me. Honestly, we were all pretty drunk, as we’d definitely overindulged.

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I was sleeping soundly when, in the middle of the night, I heard someone open the door – it had been locked – and enter the living room. Immediately, I felt alarmed; I have a strong instinct, and I could sense that this person wasn’t supposed to be there. I could make him out in the dim light coming through the bare windows from the city outside. Tall, muscular, blond – he looked at me, and without hesitation, grabbed me, pulled off my lower clothes, and raped me. I was furious yet completely helpless; I couldn’t move normally, and I couldn’t even scream for help because I was in a stupor from all the alcohol I’d consumed. I nearly threw up and tried to kick him, but my body wouldn’t respond. He left quickly. By the time I gathered my thoughts and regained some control of my body, I went to V.’s room – one of the guys I’d bonded with and trusted most. I asked if I could sleep next to him, and I remember telling him what had happened. He reassured me and said he would help me find the guy. I forced myself to sleep, though despite my exhaustion, I didn’t manage to until the early hours.

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The next morning, I was sobering up, fueled by my anger, which had turned into rage. The guys were out for the day, and I waited for them to come back so they could help me find him. V. said he would go with me to file a report. But what would be the point? It turned out none of them knew who he was, not even through mutual acquaintances. The apartment had been rented before they arrived by other Americans, and maybe one of them had made a duplicate key. Where would we even start looking? With what means? I didn’t have much money left, didn’t speak Italian, and the family member who had been there clearly had other things to worry about besides my ordeal…

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It was clear to me that if I found that scumbag, I wouldn’t call the police—I would take justice into my own hands: shove a stick of dynamite where the sun doesn’t shine, light the fuse. Maybe I’d put it out before it exploded. Maybe not.

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In hindsight, that bastard was lucky I didn’t find him; I would have destroyed him. Everyone reacts differently. For me, my way is to fight back immediately when I’m attacked, physically or verbally. Not being able to react was a revelation for the future—I always position myself from a place of strength now, choose locations where I’m not trapped, where I can reach an exit easily, and I never drink that much again. I made a lot of adjustments in my life afterward. Anger is a powerful force that saved my sanity too. I didn’t wallow in self-pity, but I absolutely had to channel my rage, or it would have taken over.

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Months later, I confided in some close friends. I had the uncomfortable impression that few of them believed me, and they seemed embarrassed that I’d brought it up… “Shh, we should keep that to ourselves!” I was never ashamed—why would I be? I wasn’t the aggressor; I was the one assaulted. Shine a light, and vampires flee. Never hesitate to speak out. So others who have been attacked or assaulted, physically or psychologically, know they aren’t alone, that violence must be stopped. So that we can build a culture of peace in human relationships, learn how to live together. To hell with Marignan and the endless dates of battles drummed into us in school! We should be teaching children respect and peaceful coexistence.

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March 2022

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