I had heard about the Disney College Program from a few friends that had an amazing time working for the company and thought it would be better than nothing. Add the unlimited access to their theme parks, warm weather, and four extra months to figure out what to do with my life and it sounded pretty ideal.
I was accepted into the program and arrived in mid-August. After a few days of orientation, I started work on Main Street U.S.A. in the Magic Kingdom.
Three weeks into the program, I was raped by one of my co-workers.
I don’t feel a desire to share every detail from that night, but I’ll give you the bare bones: He and I went to a party together, we went back to his apartment later, and I said “no,” but he wouldn’t stop.
For two months I kept everything that happened that night to myself. I told my roommates that things went fine and I had a good night. I didn’t know how to feel about what happened. In the beginning, I told myself it was a misunderstanding; maybe he hadn’t heard me. I blamed myself; I should have yelled louder. I should have pushed harder. I should have punched him and ran out of the room. I always thought that if I was ever raped I would beat the guy up. Does that mean I wasn’t raped?
I finally decided to talk to someone after the first time I ran into him outside of work. He showed up at my friend’s Halloween party dressed as the Phantom of the Opera, which made seeing him that much more unnerving. I spent the rest of the night watching him hit on girls, worrying, and wondering whether or not I should tell my co-workers what happened.
I made an appointment to see one of the counselors in Disney’s Employee Assistance Program. I tried to be optimistic.Of course they’ll listen to me. It’s Disney, a company built on childhood innocence and happiness. Wouldn’t they want to fire an accused rapist immediately? (Spoiler Alert: No.)
I recounted everything that happened that night while the counselor stayed silent and seemed at least mildly sympathetic. When I told her we had been drinking, her face changed from “concerned” to “you made a mistake.” Still, I told her, I said “no” the entire time and he never listened.
The first thing she said to me was “Well, now you know not to be hanging around boys in the middle of the night. You know what they want.”
Take a few seconds and re-read that. Now let’s unpack it.
A certified counselor was insinuating that it was my fault that my coworker decided to rape me — as if I should have known better than to interact with any man after dark. Not only that, but she was advising me to approach every interaction with a man as if he is a potential rapist, including every man that works at Disney World. If I react to a man with anything less than hostility after sundown, whatever happens is my fault.
I told her that “no” means “no” whether it’s day or night. That was apparently too radical an idea for her, as she said nothing in reply. She continued to make excuses for my rapist.
Helen Sunflower. 22. Part-time student, part-time worker, part-time artist, part-time blogger.
