raped at uni
I started university thinking it would just be about meeting people, praxe, and enjoying a new phase of my life.
Instead, I ended up in a situation that still follows me around months later.
I met an older “doutor” during praxe. At first it seemed harmless — he followed me, replied to my stories, complimented me, said he had noticed my tattoo before and thought I was pretty. Then he started asking me for things I clearly said no to, like nudes. He would apologize, especially when he blamed it on being drunk, but then he would start again.
At some point he started mixing that with the power dynamic of praxe. Saying things like:
“I’m your doutor, you have to obey me.”
“Get on all fours, caloira.”
I felt uncomfortable, but also confused, and I kept minimizing it in my head.
One day we met up. Afterwards, while it was raining, he walked me home and kept insisting on coming upstairs even though I said no multiple times. Eventually I gave in because he kept pushing and asked if he could at least come in for water.
Inside my room, he closed the door and things became physical very quickly. I never truly felt comfortable or safe. I remember sitting on my bed trying to cover myself because I felt insecure and uneasy while he stood there staring at me.
There were multiple moments where I said no, hesitated, or froze. But he kept pushing for more.
At one point he kept insisting on sex after I had already refused several times. I only even considered it if there was protection involved, but he kept trying to convince me otherwise and pushing past my hesitation until I eventually stopped resisting.
When it happened, it was rough and painful. There was no care, no gentleness, no concern about whether I was okay. He slapped my chest during it and treated me more like an object than a person. Afterwards he made degrading comments about my body and sexual things I had done, leaving me feeling humiliated and detached from myself.
What hurt even more was later finding out that he told other men intimate details about me — comments about my body, sexual comments, private things that were never his to share. Some of those men later approached me sexually because of what he had told them.
For a long time I blamed myself because I went, because I let him in, because I froze instead of fighting harder.
But I’ve learned that:
consent is not pressure,
consent is not persistence,
and consent is not someone wearing you down until you give up.
I’m not posting this for drama or attention. I’m posting it because situations like this are so often minimized, especially in environments with power dynamics like praxe.
If you’ve experienced something similar and questioned whether your discomfort was “valid” — it is.
Your boundaries matter.
And they deserve to be respected.