Disclaimer: I am posting this here because this person whishes to remain FULLY anonymous and I hope you will respect that fact.The most gut-wrenching part of that account, however, was not even the account itself, but what she told me after:
“I refused to ask for help, because I felt it was too much to ask for.”Too. Fucking. Goddamn. Much. To ask for. Does this hit close enough to home for you? Do you still think this is something that occurs outside of your beautiful fucking meadow of rainbows and unicorns? Does this make you realize we have what we could call “sort of a problem” on our hands?It certainly did for me.
Let me be clear in saying that I consider the CSC to be as safe as any other event. Which makes this all the more concerning.
I would like to say something that has happened to me a few years ago. It has bothered me since – mainly because I don’t remember it. Details will follow.
I just turned XX (Zack’s note: age removed) that year (2012) and I attended CSC (Canadian Swing Championships) for the second time that year. As some of you know, there is a party room that happens after the band finishes. There is also a shisha/hookah lounge that happens in the same time. I’m a smoker so people knew that I frequent the lounge pretty often.
Before heading over to the shisha lounge, I went to the party room to get some drinks (I haven’t started drinking yet – I remember) and placed them on the bar while I waited for the bartender to finish with my order. While I was waiting, someone asked me to dance – so I went to dance a couple of songs. After dancing, I picked up my drinks and brought them to the shisha lounge. I drank one cup of gin and tonic. This is an extremely light drink for me because I have very high tolerance to alcohol – I knew my limits.
After smoking some shisha for a short time – I felt a little light headed, so I went outside on the patio nearby to have a proper cigarette. I don’t remember if someone came with me or not, because my last recollection is of me walking to this patio and lighting up my cigarette.
The next thing I know, I’m waking up in a forest – naked. I was lucky because my clothes were scattered around me in pieces. I put on my dress and ran inside to my room at the hotel. Luckily, I didn’t have a hangover or felt sick in any aspect – but I knew something happened to me because I was bleeding vaginally, bruises on my forearms and the back of my shoulders. I was using an IUD, so I knew if I was raped – I wouldn’t be pregnant.
Regardless, I went home the next day – went straight to the doctor and demanded a full rape kit. The doctor also ordered a pregnancy test, semen sample (to see if it matches anyone in the system) and an STI test for the coming weeks.
I learned that I was not pregnant, but I was raped and I thankfully did not contract any STI’s. To this day, I do not know who it was. It could have been someone from the shisha lounge, hotel staff, or even a passerby.Weirdly, I am glad that I do not know who it was. If I knew, I wouldn’t be coming to the swing dance scene. Since then, I haven’t been drinking at events – but only with people that I fully trust, and I pour my own drinks and I never leave it out of sight.
Now that you all have read this – know this: when you drink, pour your own and never leave it out of your sight or out of your hands. If you have left a drink for more than 5 minutes – don’t drink it.
I honestly don’t know what to expect from any of you on this page – but drug rape also happens in the swing dance scene.