If you or someone you know has experienced sexual assault, please seek help with a qualified counsellor or by calling 1800 RESPECT.

Today is the day I realised that I have been raped. I am a rape victim.

For more than 20 years, I believed I was a slut. A shameful, vile, one-time slut, but a slut all the same. It was you, Mr White Canterbury shorts, that led me to believe this. But, since reading the letter from Brock Turner’s victim, I realised, what you did, Mr White Canterbury shorts, was in fact rape.

We met in February/ March of 1996. I was 14 years old. Ironically, you were celebrating your team’s win at the GPS swimming competition. A competition of private school boys in small, tight, swimming costumes against other boys in small, tight, swimming costumes. Your manhood on display and your manhood on the line.

"Your manhood on display and your manhood on the line." Image: iStock)

You, it seems, were a champion. A medal winner with numerous accolades under your belt. A hero. A boy of worship. A private school god, whose ego reached new heights that fateful night.

I was there by coincidence. Invited by a friend of a friend, finally making my way into the popular party, up on the hill, amongst the rich kids.

It was my first high school party. I still remember that Saturday morning, spending my entire week’s salary from my casual job at Coles, shopping for my navy Esprit top and Country Road caramel suede skirt. I wanted to look the part and feel part of the popular party.

My friends met at my house and with a bottle of Bundy Rum purchased by someone’s older brother we caught a taxi, up the hill to the suburbs where the other half lived. The party was big, maybe 100 or more kids sprawled out across the tennis court, beside the pool and on the front lawn. My friends and I danced, drank rum and danced some more. Soon the alcohol kicked in and the dance moves became more loose and free. We laughed, we flirted and we were having fun.

Mamamia’s Survivors of Sexual Assault Week