I finish a call with my editor, but before I can hang up, the word DETECTIVE flashes across the screen. I take a deep breath and hit the “End and accept call” button. Suddenly, instead of thinking about the story we’re working on, I’m diving into the painful memories of a sexual assault I endured in 2010.
Over the past year I’ve been hustling as a freelance writer and photographer in New York City, while simultaneously working to re-open the files and show how the NYPD’s sex crimes unit mishandled my case after I reported my sexual assault. This double life is my reality.
And for the past two years, it’s been my private reality. But last month, I testified against the NYPD at a public hearing. My statement was published in the New York Post—and the struggle I’d been hiding was no longer my own.
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