My Anonymous Life

Ali and I have talked a lot about what running this website is like. We've talked about how emotionally difficult but also rewarding this whole journey has been for both of us. I've thrown a lot of information and opinions and personal experiences at you in the last few posts. But, I haven't really addressed why I wanted to be a part of this project. 

I mean, you all know by now that I am very passionate about consent education and that I believe in the dialogue we are trying to create here. But, I haven't openly told you the story behind these passions and beliefs. However, I did submit it to you all anonymously. And now, I'm going to tell you what sharing that story was like.

When I first started writing my submission, I stared at the Submit page for at least twenty minutes. I couldn't figure out how to properly begin telling a story that I had never really told anyone. Should I jump right into what happened? Should I start with a whole bunch of background info? Is this story even worth telling?

It was that last question that really kept me from starting this confession about my life. I've heard so many stories about consent being violated that I started to wonder if mine was even unique. I wasn't sure if what I had to say contributed anything new to the conversation or if it was just a repetition of what people had already heard over and over. 

Eventually, I spit out a couple of sentences just to get myself started. I decided not to be emotional about this post. I wanted to distance myself from the situation so that I could be objective. As I did this, however, I started to question the validity of my experience. I started to wonder how the other person involved in this story would feel if they read it. With each detail, I began to question if I was responsible for how this story ended. It had been so long since this particular incident happened that I felt the need to reevaluate everything I thought I knew about that night. 

When I finished writing my submission, I hated it. I was in my head too much while writing it. I was so concerned about if this was the kind of story that someone else needed to hear. I kept wondering if people who read my story would doubt my words. All of these concerns about other people judging my story made me alter the story into something all too recognizable. I didn't write my story. I wrote his. 

In the first draft of my story, I took out my feelings. I justified his actions. I took out my truth and replaced it with answers to the questions I assumed the audience would ask. I made myself look like I deserved what happened to me. It's already hard enough to have other people frame your experience that way. But, when I read my own words framing me that way, it was too much. I deleted everything. 

I broke down crying, stopped caring about how well my story was written, and just vented onto the Submit page. Once I started doing that, it only took me five minutes to write what would ultimately be my first submission. I felt relieved. I felt empowered. I felt like I had finally worked through something that had been haunting me for too long.

After I submitted it, however, I immediately doubted myself. The questions and concerns that were running through my head during the first draft came rushing back. And then I had a new question that terrorized me: what if someone figures out this story is mine?

I know that sounds silly. All of the submissions are anonymous. But, my name is associated with the site. Most people could figure out that I probably submitted my own story and might even be able to figure out which one was mine if they knew me well enough.

As far as I know, no one knows which story I'm talking about. I know I was being a bit paranoid. As it turned out, the anonymity was the most comforting thing about the whole process. I didn't have to worry about reactions to my story because there's no place for comments and no one knows who told that story. 

As I look back on my concerns while writing my story, I have to laugh a little. They seem so silly to me now. One of the reasons we created this site is to give every story a place to be told. Every story is important. Every story is unique. They might sound similar because of common themes or plots. But, every single story is still important because they are your stories. They shaped you and impacted your life and, therefore, are the most valuable. I have to constantly remind myself that my story is important. I'm not ready to tell the world what story is mine. That's okay. That's literally what this site is for. But, my story is now out there. People can learn from it. Maybe my experience is like one of yours. Maybe reading my story will be cathartic for you. Or maybe it will challenge you. For those reasons alone, I'm happy I shared my story, despite how difficult it was to do so.

I've told you all this story for a few reasons. First of all, I have been feeling kind of weird that I haven't been open with you all about my story. I know I don't have to be. It's just strange to me that I can open up to you all about my mental health struggles so openly but that I still can't seem to get the courage to talk about how consent has operated in my life. 

Next, I wanted those of you who have not submitted to have an idea of what sharing these stories really feels like. Obviously, not everyone who shares their story goes through the same internal crisis that I did. Some might have. But, taking the time to reflect on past events, regardless of if they were last week or fifteen years ago, can be incredibly difficult. Sure, sharing these thoughts and experiences can be very cathartic. But, it can also be painful. I can't tell you how much it hurt when I read my first draft and wondered if that was truly how I saw myself. I also can't describe how easily I fell asleep that night after writing the final draft because I felt like I could finally just let go of those negative feelings about myself. When you read these stories, take a moment to appreciate what kind of journey each of these authors went through to create these incredible submissions. If you've submitted a story, thank you. I know from personal experience that it's not exactly easy. I hope that sharing helped you in some way. I know it helped me.

Last, but certainly not least, I want to remind you all how important storytelling is. It's so easy to categorize consent in the "no means no" and "yes means yes" boxes. But, we all know that it's not always that easy. I, personally, believe the reason consent is so difficult for people to understand is because we have tried to oversimplify it. It can't be just black and white. And how can we navigate those tricky gray areas? By sharing our stories. By humanizing consent. By learning from our own experiences. By learning from others. Each of these stories has a lesson to share. If you're in a place where you feel comfortable with sharing, please do. If not, that's fine. It's your story. You get to decide how, when, and if it gets told. Even if I never get to read your story, I want you to know that your story is valuable. No one else has your story or your voice. And, for those reasons along with a thousand others, your story is important.

Love,

Alex

2016 and I were Frenemies at Best

Happy New Year, everyone! I realize that it's been a new year for 17 days now and that I'm a little late to this party. But, to be fair, I wasn't in the country and had no wifi. Anyway, I hope everyone had a fun New Year's Eve and is having a positive start to 2017. 

In all honesty, New Year's Eve is my second least favorite holiday. It will officially be my least favorite as soon as we all realize how problematic Columbus Day is and kick it off our calendars for good. Regardless, New Year's Eve has always been a huge let down for me. It's an exhausting holiday full of nostalgia, which can be really hard to bear when you've had a bad year. 

I'm not what you would call a "positive" person. The glass is generally half-empty for me. I can't just say goodbye to a year and only remember the good moments. To me, it's just not truthful to look at the past this way. 

I look at the past and I see a complicated story. It had highs and lows. Some of the choices I made totally worked out. Some of them were reckless and cost me dearly. Sure, focusing on the highs at the end of the year will probably make me feel better. But, I can't ignore those lows. Valuable lessons can be learned from mistakes and missteps. I'm on my way to becoming a better person. I want to be happier. I want to be more organized. I want to battle my social anxiety and develop a stronger support system for myself. If I don't reflect on how I failed to do these things in the past, I might not learn how to accomplish these things in the future. This mentality really irritated some of the optimists in my life who just wanted me to let 2016 go and remember the good times. To them I say: 2016 and I were frenemies at best. So, no. 2016 doesn't get to be remembered for just the good times.

All my animosity for 2016 aside, I would be quite neglectful if I didn't mention the best thing to happen to me in 2016: The Story of Consent. The whole process of creating this site was so therapeutic for me. Ali and I received a lot of praise for our work on this site. Because of this site, people I haven't talked to in years have reached out to me to thank us for making this site. Our Tumblr has received countless messages expressing their love for the site. Last week, a girl in one of my classes stopped me after we were dismissed to talk about the site. We ended up talking for half an hour about how nice it is to not feel alone when it comes to these issues. This site has given me so much. It's given me new connections with people I never would have reached out to. It's given me a close relationship with Ali. It's given me an outlet to funnel my personal experiences into something good. It's given me a purpose.

Thank you all for your support of this site. I look forward to another year of running this site and reading your contributions. And, I hope that 2017 is good to all of you. I'm doing my best to make 2017 a better chapter than the last. I'm going to fight for myself, and I hope you all do the same.

With love,

Alex

Happy Holidays!

I hope you're all having a lovely December. For me, it's been pretty great so far. I've worn at least three different tacky Christmas sweaters, decorated both the inside and outside of my parents' house, and I've thrown my diet out the window. Eating well is now 2017 Alex's problem. 

I guess I just love this time of year because I get to spend time with my family and friends. I mean, my parents are the cutest. Just look at them. My dog is also cute, but Daisy doesn't understand how cameras work and, therefore, never looks at them.

Just look at her. I can only get a good photo of her when she's asleep. 

Anyway, I also love December because it is a wonderful time to reflect on the past year. It's important to examine what you've done and how you can be more successful in the future. In the spirit of learning from the past to grow in the future, I've been looking over the feedback we've received for The Story of Consent.

When we first launched the website, we set up a survey so that we could get a feel for what you guys liked or disliked or found confusing. As of today, we have only gotten 18 responses. I would still really like your feedback so that Ali and I can keep making improvements to the site. Here is the link to the survey: https://www.surveymonkey.com/r/MLTZGR9

To everyone who has already filled out the survey: thank you so much. Your feedback was incredibly helpful and some of you came up with some really cool ideas that I hope to use on this site in 2017. 

One of the criticisms we received from this survey was about the lack of submissions from the male perspective. I completely agree with this comment. As of today, our submissions appear to be mostly from women. I am very thrilled that so many women have found this website as a safe space to share their experiences. However, the primary reason Ali and I created this site was to educate as many people as we can about how consent operates in real-life scenarios. When we have very few submissions or experiences from men about consent, the conversation becomes one-sided. It's really important to Ali and I that people of all gender identities feel comfortable sharing their stories. A lot of my guy friends that I've talked to told me that they wanted to share something on here but really didn't feel like this space was a place for them. This kind of broke my heart because I want this to a place where anyone can engage in this cathartic process. If you have any suggestions for how we can remedy this, please let us know. 

Another person requested that we provided a way for readers to show support for the people who submitted stories, like a comment section or a like button. When we were designing the website, Ali and I had a lot of debates about this issue. On one hand, it would be really nice to have a way to thank the brave people who shared their experiences with us. On the other hand, activating a comment section opens up each individual story to potential criticism. We ultimately decided against allowing comments. This website is intended to be a conversation... but it's a safe space first. I love the idea of people having conversations and debates about consent. But, years of the internet has taught me that a comment section can turn ugly. For now, we have also turned down the idea of a like button on individual submissions. We are still debating about that one. However, we are not against the idea of showing support for submissions that spoke to you or taught you something. If you have any ideas or suggestions for how to make that happen, contact us. Also, you could give another post a shout out in a submission of your own. If you read something you found thought-provoking, you can reference that in your own post. If reading a specific story inspired you to share you own, say that in your post. Letting someone know that their story helped you is an amazing way to show your support for the post. 

Here was the final suggestion we received:

"I like the story vehicle. I almost want you to empower the writer even more. What if we gave them the tools of chapters, illustrations, titles, and characters - the therapy of story writing in its fullest form."

I really love everything about this suggestion. If you are the person who submitted this comment, please reach out to me. I would love to bounce ideas off you and get a fuller understanding of what your vision is. Right now, I'm working on the submission page so that you guys can submit illustrations or images that help tell your stories. Also, if you want to submit chapters of a much longer story, you are welcome to do that. Honestly, you can format your stories, experiences, and opinions in whatever way you feel comfortable. Your story is different than everyone else's and the way you tell it should reflect that. If there is something Ali and I can do to make your story more accessible to this website, please let us know. And, if anyone else has ideas for how to empower the writer more, please contact us. 

If you have any questions, comments, criticisms, or ideas, feel free to email us at thestoryofconsent@gmail.com. If you want to contact me specifically, email me here. 

I love reflecting on the work I've done and coming up with ideas to improve. If you have ideas for us, please let us know. We are working hard to make 2017 a wonderful year and we need your help to do that. 

Love,

Alex Svenpladsen

Confessions of a Struggling Undergrad

It's been almost a month since we first launched The Story of Consent. I mean, look at us. Ali and I were babies back then. 

I remember the day before we launched so vividly. I obsessively checked the site to see if it was looking okay. I couldn't sleep that night because I kept checking the site. I couldn't stop looking at it. I imagine this is what parents feel like when they first meet their kid. I know it's not the same thing... but I'm a 22-year-old whose closest experience to parenthood was that day at my old camp counselor job when all the kids thought it would be funny to call me mom. This experience was completely new to me. I helped make something. I spent months working on this. I probably annoyed Ali with my obsessive texting about this project. But, I couldn't stop. I suddenly had this beautiful thing I helped make and I loved it with all my heart. 

I'm not saying that I haven't been this proud of other work I've done. I'm very proud of my speech career and my other academic work. I've gotten the privilege of doing some pretty cool things with some very smart people. The Story of Consent, however, marks a very different chapter in my life: this is the first time in two years that I've felt like myself. 

It's been a little over two years now since I came to terms with my anxiety and depression. I held myself together very well throughout high school and early college. My anxiety activated the part of me that was terrified of failure and that kept me motivated for 20 years. However, that could only last for so long before I snapped. And boy, did I snap. For the first time since middle school, I wasn't doing well in school. My speech success was not where I thought it should be at this point in my college career. The people I loved seemed to all be leaving me at once, either because of graduation or growing apart or simply because I cut them out because I didn't think they could understand the pain I was in. And so, I snapped. I frequently skipped classes to lie in bed all day. In the rare instance where I actually showed up somewhere I was supposed to be, I avoided people and spent all of my energy trying not to have a panic attack. I lied to my friends and family about getting help because I thought this was all my fault... and, therefore, my duty to fix it myself. In my heart, I believed that I was a complete and utter failure. That I truly earned this misery I felt. 

This breakdown led to me leaving my university for half a semester to go home. After my junior year was over, the liar in me convinced my family, my friends, and my coaches that I was better. I wasn't. I wasn't quite done hating myself. But, I fought to come back to school anyway. Nothing was different. I still couldn't keep up with my classes. My speech success was still not up to my standards and I couldn't fathom why. I couldn't see that my depression took away all the motivation and passion that used to drive me. I kept telling myself that once I got success, I'd be happy. But, I couldn't get the success I wanted until I found a way to be happy. I was stuck. And I hated myself for it. I didn't learn my lesson. I thought I outsmarted my mental illness. So, I spent what was supposed to be my last year of college flailing about, wavering between anxiety-driven hard work and long episodes of hiding in my apartment as I lied to everyone I cared for about how I was doing. I finished off the year by crying in my parents' house while the last of my close friends graduated on the day that I was supposed to graduate. But I didn't. Because I didn't take care of myself. 

I spent this past summer hearing a lot of "everything happens for a reason" speeches from anyone who failed to notice my lack of graduation photos on social media and then found themselves trapped in an awkward conversation that was supposed to just be small talk. I've never believed this "everything happens for a reason" nonsense. Then, I met Ali.

On the first day of school, I was sitting in a Women's Studies class. The class was introducing themselves. Ali was next to me and started listing off her major and minor and hometown and year in school. And all I could think was: this girl just stole my intro. For the past five years, we've been at the same school with the same major and minor. For most of our lives, we've lived in the same county. And I had never crossed paths with her until now. I wrote it off as weird. Then, I walked to my next class for the day... and Ali was there too. I had never met or seen this girl in my life despite having every opportunity to have done so. And now, all of the sudden, I have two back to back classes with her. And I liked talking to her. I'm not a person who generally likes talking to new people. So, I set out to make her my friend. And, amazingly, it worked. I had a friend. And this was a friend that was passionate about the same things as me.

We'd engage in intense conversations about rape culture in our Women's Studies class, then we'd walk together to our next class, and we'd finally panic together about our Capstone Projects. We spent most of September using our in-between-classes time to throw out ideas for this project. These conversations would be what I looked forward to all day. I finally had a reason to get up and go to my classes. I had a friend that would care if I was there. Then, one day, lightning struck and we had a conversation that led to the creation of this website. 

My entire demeanor changed. I was... happy. I had this project that I was passionate about and I had someone to share it with. I had a reason to get myself back together. 

Creating this site wasn't easy. It was exhausting. Months of research. Days of website designing. A lot of nights where I couldn't sleep because I couldn't stop wondering how you all would react to this site. And it was all worth it. 

On Tuesday, Ali and I presented our work to the class we did all this for. 

Our professor teared up because she didn't expect us to come up with a project quite like this. Ali teared up, probably because it was a very touching moment. I teared up for a very different reason. If everything had gone according to my original plan, this might not have ever happened. If I hadn't struggled through the last two years, I wouldn't have met Ali. We wouldn't have come up with this website. I wouldn't have had this experience. Sure, I went through a lot of pain to get to this point. And every single second of it was worth it. That pain brought me to this moment. It brought me to this place where I now know exactly what I am capable of. And in this moment where we were all stifling back tears, I remembered those words that haunted me just months before: everything happens for a reason. 

I still don't entirely buy this mantra. However, I can't deny its accuracy here. Ali, this project, and these classes reminded me that there are causes worth fighting for. Further, this experience taught me that I'm not the villain in my story. It might sometimes seem like that, but, that's only because I haven't turned the page yet. 

I've told you this story for two reasons. First of all, it's been a very emotional week for me. I've had lots of dramatic realizations about my life. Ali is graduating next week. It's finally hitting me that I'm finally going to graduate in a few months. I just needed a place to get all my feelings out so I won't turn in papers next week that have damp spots from my tears.

Secondly, I hoped some of you could get something from my story. It's not technically about consent. Those posts will come later, don't worry. Anyway, this is a stressful time of year. A lot of people get depressed around the holidays. If you're having feelings that you're struggling with, you're not alone. But, acting like you are alone won't help you. I can't tell you how to deal with whatever battle you're fighting. However, I can tell you my story. I can tell you that sharing this story has been cathartic for me and has taken a lot off my chest. If this site can be a place for you to talk about what you're going through, use it. If it can't, please don't let that stop you from opening up. At the very least, my inbox is always open and I care about you. 

Some things happen for a reason. Some things happen for no reason whatsoever. Regardless, you happened for a reason. The reason might not be clear today. The reason might change every now and then. The reason might not be what you thought it was. But the reason exists. 

XOXO,

Alex

PS. All of you should congratulate Ali next weekend on graduating. She's one of the best people I've ever known and we should all be super proud of her. 

Hello to the Readers of The Story of Consent!

First of all, I'd like to thank you all for taking the time to look at this site and for participating in this conversation, either by submitting your thoughts or by listening to another's story. Ali and I weren't sure if this project would be successful. Personally, I knew this project was something I needed and just hoped that there was someone out there who needed it too. 

Earlier this week, I regretted that we chose to launch the site right before the election. I only felt this way because my friends on social media were using any post, political or not, as a platform to get into a heated debate.  I try my best to avoid political statements on Facebook. I have no illusions that I will change anyone's opinion via a status update or snarky comment.

It was my hope that promoting this site would give everyone a break from the constant arguing online. A few loved ones of mine visited the site and, unfortunately, decided to confront me about the content simply because one of the submissions did not line up with their political opinions. My character was attacked because they thought I wrote this particular submission. To clarify, I did not.

I really thought the feedback I'd get from these individuals would be empowering and full of love. I thought they'd at least be proud of me for creating this space. Instead, they confronted me, harassed me, and publicly bullied me. If I were a stronger person, I would have fought back when I was being verbally attacked. However, I'm not a stronger person. 

For those of you who don't know me personally, I've been going through a bit of a rough patch. Two years ago, I fell apart. I knew that depression and anxiety were very real mental health issues. I just didn't know they had been existing inside of me my whole life, waiting for the right time to make themselves known. They knocked me down so hard that it has taken every moment of these last two years to stand back up again.

This website has been a big part of that. It's given me something to get out of bed for in the morning. It's given me positive feedback from old friends, thanking us for creating this safe space. It's given me the opportunity to read powerful and brave submissions that reminds me just how important it is to tell our stories.

But, for a brief moment, those verbal attacks from loved ones took all of those positive feelings away from me. I remember calling my mom while sobbing last week and asking how these people who allegedly cared for me could disrespect me and the work I've put into this project.

It wasn't just that they attacked me. They attacked the stories on this site. They didn't take the time to understand the purpose of the site. They didn't care that this was supposed to be a safe space. They used it as a platform for their aggression. And while I have made amazing strides toward getting myself back together, their words pulled me back into that dark place I've been struggling to escape from. 

I know I'm not the only one who has been struggling since Tuesday. If you're having a hard time right now, I'm here for you. The Story of Consent is also here for you. This election has been emotional and personal. A lot of the rhetoric used in the news and on social media has been hostile and, at times, triggering.

If you must engage, be careful. Don't be the one to push someone you care about too far. It's not worth it. It's not worth the snappy comebacks or the retweets. Endangering someone's emotional stability and personal safety isn't worth whatever it is that you get from engaging in these online debates.

Above all else, listen first. If this site can teach you anything, let it be that listening to someone else's story is the first step toward opening a real conversation. 

If you're going through a hard time like me, take care of yourself. Self-care is different for everyone. For me, it's talking to old friends, re-watching Galavant, talking to my mom daily, listening to the Vitamin String Quartet's covers of My Chemical Romance songs, and reading three YA books in 24 hours. Things will get better. For you, it's probably something different. 

Things will get better. For the time being, surround yourself with things and people that make you happy, passionate, and empowered. 

Finally, I want to thank you all for the submissions we have received. It takes a lot of courage to open up about your feelings and experiences. I spent last Sunday morning rereading all of these submissions. These stories were what I needed to remind me that I'm not alone in this world. And while I am having a rough time, these stories have become my inspiration to get better. You and your stories have inspired me. You reminded me that I have to fight for me.

Love,

Alex