Brianna Michelle is an international model living in Los Angeles. She is the founder of Voices Beyond Assault, an organization working to raise awareness about sexual assault and create a platform for healing. Brianna is also a member of the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN) Speakers Bureau, which is made up of more than 1,500 survivors of sexual violence who volunteer to share their stories.
In 2003, I was a sophomore at Clark Atlanta University. It was April Fools Day, and my biggest concern at the time was that I had dyed my hair from blonde to black, and it had turned a weird green color instead. When my best friend Milah called me to hang out, I didn’t want to go because I was frustrated about my hair, but she begged me to come because I hadn’t seen her in a while. So I got dressed in my favorite hoodie, jeans, and Timberlands, and headed to the Buckhead neighborhood to meet Milah and some other friends at Coyote Ugly.
What I thought would be a chill night out with friends became a night that would change my life forever—and teach me more about myself and the U.S. justice system than I ever thought I’d have to learn as a college student.
The Brutal Rape That Changed My Life
When I got to the bar, my friends were having fun and drinking—it was a great vibe. We danced for while, and then it was time for them to head home. My friend Jason and I both weren’t drinking, so we decided to grab a bite of food after. As the others walked out, I went to move my car closer to the restaurant and told Jason I’d meet him there. I found a parking spot really close to the restaurant and squeezed my car into the parallel slot, accidentally tapping the car behind me, as I’m sure so many people have done. I sat in the car for a few minutes putting on some lip gloss, playing with my crazy-colored hair, and then put my hoodie on to cover it up a bit. At this point, it was a little after midnight.
I didn’t think too much about the “tap,” but as I got out of the car, a guy got out of that car behind me and approached me, shouting that I'd hit his car. He was being aggressive in his approach and voice. Nervous, I told him not to worry, that I had insurance, even though there were no scratches, dents, or dings on his car. Instead of calling the police, he suggested I give him money and continued to insist on that even after I told him I was a college student and didn’t have any money. I suspected he was drunk. I looked around and for some reason the streets were quite empty—just a few people here and there not paying attention to our situation. As he got more aggressive and in my face, a guy came from across the street and asked what was going on and if I was OK. He calmed the guy down, and suggested that we exchange information and meet the following day. We did and the man left me alone.
As he left, the guy who helped me told me I should probably move my car to another parking spot so I wouldn’t have another run-in with that man after leaving the restaurant. He told me about a free lot nearby, and I decided to take his advice and move my car.
I moved to the new lot—but as I was getting out of the car, hands gripped my throat. It was the same man who'd helped me out of the parallel parking situation. He told me: “You’re going to die tonight, bitch.” At that point, I realized I had to fight for my life. I tried to get his hands from around my throat but he was too strong, and the more I fought, the harder he gripped my throat. I looked at him in desperation, and could feel tears coming from me eyes as he looked at me with vengeance and hate. I kept fighting, and he kept gripping harder and harder and started biting me, too. I was getting weak. I couldn’t fight anymore. I started peeing on myself, and I just knew I was going to die. As I got weaker, he kept gripping with his fingers pressed so hard against my throat. I drifted in and out of consciousness as he forcefully had sex with me, and the next thing I remember, it was 4:12 a.m. and I was in the passenger seat of my car, naked, while this stranger drove my car down the highway, music loud, smoking a cigarette.
Next, I remember driving over some gravel and into an apartment complex. After he parked, I remember him unclenching my teeth (when you’re asphyxiated, your teeth clench), and him pouring some beer down my throat, screaming at me to wake up. He was asking me why I let “them” do this to me, acting as if some other people had done this to me and that he'd rescued me, when I clearly remember his face as he crawled on top of me. I recall telling him I didn’t remember what happened, and that I just needed to get back to school. I wanted to cry so badly, but kept telling myself not to let him see my pain, and that maybe if I pretended I didn’t think he'd done anything, he would let me go.
After that, he proceeded to say, “Since I helped you, you might as well suck my dick,” and he climbed on top of me and forced me to perform oral sex. Then, he drove my car to a Greyhound station, told me he was sorry about what happened to me, and got out of the car and left.
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The Aftermath
According to the National Sexual Violence Resource Center, rape is the most under-reported crime, with 63 percent of sexual assaults never being brought to police. I probably would have been a part of that statistic, had I not been staying with my friend Kim at nearby Spelman College that night. When I got back to her apartment and she saw the bruises and blood, she put two and two together and took me to the hospital.
A nurse completed a rape kit, then detectives came and asked me all these questions, like: “Did I know the man?” and “Was I sure I didn’t want to have sex with him?” It was almost like being victimized again. I’m not sure if it was me not understanding that that’s what cops need to do or if they were truly unsympathetic.
"At that point I realized I had to fight for my life."
If it wasn’t for my friend being at her dorm, I think I would have taken a shower and acted as if nothing happened. I was in shock. I was embarrassed. I was so confused about what had happened, but I knew I had almost lost my life. Before that night, I don’t think I fully realized that there are people out in the world who are crazy, who are predators, and who go after women that way. It’s something you see on TV but not something you think will ever happen to you.
After the rape, I was living in a bit of a fog. I was still walking those same streets in Atlanta, and I had to relive a lot of the memories of my attack over and over again. I felt I had to constantly be on guard because I didn’t know who'd attacked me or where he was. I started drinking to numb things down. I still went to school because I knew I had to finish what I'd started, but no one there knew I'd been raped unless I told them about it. I was always smiling and did what I had to do to stay strong through it. It wasn’t the easiest.
RELATED: How to Help a Friend Who’s Been Raped
Seeking Justice
In the two years after I was raped, I looked at lineup after lineup trying to help the detectives find my attacker. About the sixth or seventh time I was called in (which was about two years after I was raped), when the photos were placed in front of me, that man—whose face I still have never forgotten—was right there. I pointed to him and the detective looked at me and told me they had matched the DNA from my rape kit with a man in a jail in Miami. The court extradited him to Atlanta and we went to trial a year later, at the end of 2006, nearly three years after I was raped.
While preparing for the trial, my lawyer told me over and over she was certain that my attacker would go to jail for the rest of his life. Even the judge was on him, asking why a 34-year-old man would spend so much time at spring break in Miami. But just three days before we had to go to trial, my lawyer was transferred to a homicide case, giving a new lawyer just a few days to get up to speed on my case. The trial lasted about two to three hours, during which I had to come face to face with my attacker while I testified against him. Testifying made me feel nervous, anxious, and angry. My anger stemmed from having to see him as he presented himself as a "good guy" with glasses on. Reliving everything, having to look at him, and having him staring at me with what seemed like a smirk on his face was the most difficult experience I've ever gone through. The most heart-wrenching part of it all was when the defense attorney, a woman, acted as if I liked what happened to me and that it was something I wanted. I felt vitcimized and really angry.
After deliberations, the jury found my attacker not guilty of all charges against him, including attempted murder, rape, kidnap, aggravated assault, and theft by force. I will never understand or have a reason as to why he was found not guilty. He was a DNA match and I hand-picked him out of lineups. The only reason I can think of was that I had a brand new lawyer three days before my trial. I felt that she did the best that she could, but she wasn’t as familiar with the case and lacked the knowledge my previous lawyer had. According to an analysis of U.S. Department of Justice data done by the RAINN, only three out of every 100 rapists will ever spend one day in jail.
"If it wasn’t for my friend being at her dorm, I think I would have taken a shower and acted as if nothing happened."
I remember looking at a few of the jurors and saying that hopefully when he gets out, he doesn’t do that to any of their daughters or to them. The anger, hurt, and frustration I felt realizing I'd gone through all of that for no reason was like nothing I had ever felt. And that’s when I realized the justice system is not fair, and sexual assault is one of the crimes you get lesser time for. I feel that rapists have psychiatric disorders and have control and power issues. It’s this epidemic that is not looked at as seriously as other crimes. I knew I probably wasn’t the first woman this man had raped, and if he did it again, the next person wouldn’t have a voice.
RELATED: What It’s Like to Try to Have a Normal Sex Life After Rape
Life After the Verdict
My plan for after graduation was to start looking for jobs in Atlanta, but after realizing my attacker could be roaming the streets again soon, I didn’t feel safe in my city anymore. Shortly after, I moved to New York and started my modeling career.
Living in a new city and having deep conversations with new friends about what happened to me was not only cathartic, it was eye opening. I started to hear from so many women that they or a friend had been sexually assaulted, too. I knew I had to start sharing my story with more people and educating both men and women about sexual assault, so I started talking at some schools in the city, and later in other community venues. Sexual assault survivors are victimized by their attackers, the justice system, and often themselves, but it’s important to realize that we are not the cause of something that happened to us. There’s no excuse for someone taking something from you without your permission.
"I am so grateful for having a mom who always told me that I cannot live as a victim, that doing so would mean giving my attacker power."
While I choose to live as a survivor, and not a victim, the assault has made trusting men a challenge for me, even 10 years later. Friendships with guys are always cool, but relationships are a whole other ball game. I think I always want to be in control so I can’t be affected in any damaging way. It’s hard for me to let my guard down, be vulnerable, and trust that intentions are good. I am so grateful to have a mom who always told me that I cannot live as a victim, that doing so would mean giving my attacker power. She reminded me that I was a survivor, and could be a voice for other young women who this happens to. She reminds me that I don’t need to believe that all men are that way.
RELATED: New Study Confirms That Sexual Assaults on College Campuses Are Drastically Underreported
My Advice for Survivors
First and foremost, my advice to other sexual assault survivors is to report it. It’s important to speak up regardless of what the outcome may be. It’s necessary that we do everything we can to bring perpetrators of sexual assault to justice, because a lot of times they’ll do it again.
I’ve also learned that it’s important to allow yourself to feel and be compassionate with yourself and your feelings. Don’t fault yourself for someone else’s actions, and be comfortable in telling your story—either publicly or to your mom, a therapist, or your best friend. Those types of secrets need to be unleashed. The shame, the embarrassment, the guilt, and the pain are not easy to deal with alone.
Read our investigation into the alarming number of doctors sexually abusing patients, and pick up the November issue of Women’s Health, on newsstands now, for tips on avoiding this kind of abuse.
