Maritime Legal Aid & Advocacy

Before I tell you about my rape, I have to tell you about that ship’s culture: They called my stateroom “Golf Course,” because with 6 females, there were “18 holes.”

** See Disclaimer Below **

Hey, so here goes nothing. I am currently Active Duty, so I would like to remain anonymous.

This story happened 17 years ago. I will tell it as faithfully as I can. Some details are crystal clear, some never were, and some have become blurry with years of healing and not thinking about it.

I reported to my first unit/cutter at age 21. We left on patrol 5 days after reporting. We stopped in Hawaii. We had fun, we saw all the sights and went to the bars at night. I was in shock that somehow l managed to land this amazing gig that wanted to pay me to travel the world by sea. 2 months went by of getting to know my shipmates, making friends, and living the best version of life.

Before I get to the next port call, I have to share some of the culture that existed on that cutter. At one point someone made a list of all the female non-rates to see who could \*\*\*\* them all first. The females talked shit back and it ruffled some feathers. The female PO1s tried to manage the situation and tell all of the non-rates to mind their p’s and q’s. My stateroom was called the golf course, because with 6 females, there were 18 holes. Lots of couples existed on the ship. Couples that later married and lived happily ever after, couples that went home to their spouses after the patrol, couples that broke up, the full range. All this to say that sex under way was not uncommon.

Then we got to our 3rd port call of the patrol. There was a wetting down because all the Ensigns were making JG so we all went to the bar to celebrate. We had fun. We played pool, we laughed, we ate the local food, I felt like I was home, I found my people. The night wore on, and I left the bar to walk around the park and look at the city at night, again wondering that I was actually being paid to be here. The PO3 who was directly in charge of me approached me in the park and scolded me for being out in public alone after having been drinking. It wasn’t safe. Who knew what the strangers in foreign city would do. He took me back to the ship in a cab, checked me in at the quarterdeck and made sure l was safe for the night. Because that’s what shipmates do.

I took a shower and went to bed. In my rack, in my flannel pj’s. I wasn’t dressed wrong, I wasn’t in the wrong place. I wasn’t with the wrong people. I wasn’t doing the wrong thing. And so I KNOW that my shipmates who have told their stories and been accused of those things aren’t at fault. Because when a rapist decides to rape you, they will rape you. It has nothing to do with what you are or are not doing.

At some point in the night, he came in. I don’t know when, since the door would open and close routinely at night with 6 of us in that room and we got use to sleeping through it. I woke up as he entered me. I froze. I did not scream. I didn’t say no. I didn’t fight. I froze. I didn’t know it then, but I learned years later that fight or flight also has a freeze setting. I laid there & he finished and he left.

In the morning, I asked my roommates if they knew who came into the room. They told me his name. I didn’t tell them the rest of the story. I could tell by their smirks that they assumed it was consensual. Honestly, in a crew of 150, I had never spoken to him before and didn’t know who he was. We never spoke afterward. I didn’t sleep through the door opening and closing again for any of the 8 years of sea time since.

I didn’t report it then because I thought my story didn’t “count.” He didn’t hit me, I had no physical damage. I hadn’t said no, so was it really rape? That’s such a big ugly word, that couldn’t be it. So I pretended it didn’t happen. I wondered if maybe I had made him think I wanted that? How did he even know who I was? Maybe he thought I was someone else? I said nothing for 10+ years. Then slowly I started to share my story here and there. I told my husband. I told my closest friends.

But nothing I’ve seen in all my years in has ever made me think that telling the Coast Guard my story would lead to anything but pain.

** This anonymous U.S. Coast Guard Survivor Testimonial was originally submitted to “The Pettiest Officer of the U.S. Coast Guard” on Facebook in May of 2024 and re-published by MLAA. MLAA does not know the identity of the author and has not verified any of the claims or allegations made in this testimonial. Light formatting changes for readability, or redactions for PII may have been applied before publishing. **

Write a comment
Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *