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I was raped when I was 18. It was an event in my life that continues to mark the passage of time for me; time that is divided into two sections – before the rape, and after. It was the summer of 69 …

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Whenever I see a film with a rape scene in it, I feel myself retreat — in fear of my memories. When I read an article about rape, my heart pounds — I can recreate my own horror story in a heartbeat. Not so long ago, it was reported that a woman in Saudi Arabia was pardoned by the King – her crime? She had been gang-raped. Her punishment? Six months in prison and 200 lashes. PARDON ME? I got the sweats when I read that article. The idiodic mindset of blaming women for being raped persists. I experienced a version of it myself.

It takes voices to say “KNOCK IT OFF!” One voice at a time.

Quit blaming women, men and children for being violated. No one asks to be raped. It’s preposterous and people should know better. It’s happening all over the world. Is it going to stop, I hate to say I doubt it. Do other people quit needing to blame the victims? That goes without saying.

Compassion is a wonderful thing.