"She was never quite ready. But she was brave. And the universe listens to brave."

Yesterday I asked myself if enough had been said on this subject already, as the posts poured through on Facebook and Instagram, the statuses posted, as if to question whether my story mattered. I have written and re-written this post literally 7 separate times and it's making all the words look like random combinations of letters at this point, nothing makes sense, I've forgotten how to properly synthesize a sentence, punctuation, my palms are sweating, head is spinning...this sounds like an Eminem song...so we'll start with facts. You can't lie about facts. You can't challenge facts. You can't synthesize, glamorize, or deny facts. We get that's what "fact" means, right? @POTUS? JK. But also 100% not JK.

"What, are you gonna write a blog about it or whatever?"

Yeah, I'm gonna write a f*cking blog about it or whatever.


  • Amount of women that will be raped in their lifetime: 1 in 4 or 5
  • Percentage of sexual assault or rape victims under the age of 12: 15%
  • Country whose President has been accused of sexual harassment and assault multiple times: The United States
  • Someone in the United States is sexually assaulted every: 98 seconds
  • Percentage of rapes that go unreported: 54%
  • Sexual assault victims are: about 4 times more likely to experience PTSD as adults, about 4 times more likely to develop symptoms of drug abuse, and about 3 times more likely to experience a major depressive episode as adults.

( www.rainn.org for facts, also, they put out a statement about real POS Harvey Weinstein, he sucks, go read it.)

These are facts, and here's another one: I am the 15%.

I am telling you this why. Because #MeToo. Because I have a 21-year-old sister who needs to know that sometimes, even when it's really, really, traumatizing and hard and maybe you've told literally 4 people in your life, and maybe you're afraid of what your bosses might say, or whether a family member will read it and be offended, that you have to talk about these things or else you sit on the other side of all those facts. You become a statistic. 

Because everything starts to make sense after you actually cope with it. Because you start to put the pieces together. Because it's ok to be vulnerable and actually, just like the quote from my favorite movie ever states, "It's not your fault."

It's not your fault, my fault, or anyone else's fault. I like the word survivor used here best. Victim? I have not ever been a victim in my LIFE and I'll be damned if I let one experience label me as it. I am a survivor as is every other man, woman, or child who's experienced this. I do not want your pity. I do not want your "sorry's" and even as I sit here typing this I'm still wondering

"Why?" Stop writing! You are sharing too much! Why are you dong this?"


Because this does not define me. Because every day I wake up and I feel a little more me, a little braver, a little better, and I give less fucks. Hence I write. Catharsis. Healing. Awareness. Because it MATTERS. Because silence is compliance. Because I want every single HUMAN to know: this has to stop and like life or a really long game of Mario Party, the only way out - is through. You have to do the hard things, you have to say too much, have the important conversations, take responsibility for your actions.

Whatever you need to take from this, take it. Count the number of #MeToo people you know, get upset, and then vow to be a better human because of it. I don't really know how to end this or what to say. But Monday after I read Sophia Bush's Instagram and immediately burst into tears in traffic, I knew I had to share. I hope you will be brave with your life and your experiences and be too much and be extra and share the weird and most intimate parts of yourself and I hope the world opens their arms and says, "Me, too."


"Nevertheless...she persisted."

With love and light,


Kara Lennon