Member-only story
Rapists Don’t Fit Stereotypes
Neither do Their Victims — My Personal #MeToo Story
Note: All names have been changed
We Were Friends
Jin and I walked along the Charles River. It was a lovely evening. The autumn air was just turning crisp. I felt happy to be alive, glad to be with a friend.
“I rescued a baby bird once,” he told me. He shared a hesitant, boyish smile. “Another boy in my village had knocked it out of its tree. I found it and put it back in the nest.”
Jin was from China, and often told me stories about his childhood. I loved hearing about these, because I was curious about other cultures and places.
I smiled at him. I felt safe. After all, he was such a sweet person, and his slim, short physique and shy personality reassured me. There was nothing about Jin to imply aggressiveness, nothing to me think he could hurt me. I saw him as respectful and I tied that to his heritage.
The Indians
I had met Jin through friends from India.
Laxmi was the first Indian I met on campus. Her British accent and quick, elegant wit fascinated me.
“You must meet the gang,” she told me as we chatted in the Student Union. “I’m sure they’ll enjoy knowing…
