I Don’t Celebrate St. Patrick’s Day
I was raped on this day
Trigger warning: rape
I have never been one to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. In America, it was adopted as a day solely dedicated to getting wasted. I never understood the appeal, especially as a teenager without a fake ID. Still, people in my life had countless parties where you were meant to dress in green and celebrate the act of being drunk.
The history of St. Patrick’s Day is often lost in translation when celebrated in the States, but this isn’t the only reason why I choose not to partake. On March 17, 2011, I was raped by my best friend. The party was a St. Patrick’s Day/Congrats on Getting Citizenship extravaganza.
I remember thinking how cool it was that the party was held in the community area of a big condo complex. My best friend's mom got her citizenship, and that was the main purpose of the celebration. Being from Paraguay, the family was very inviting. They always included their son’s best friend.
We were strictly friends because I am gay.
He knew this, and I was often dating or pursuing women at this time in our friendship. I appreciated his friendship so much because things never got weird. To me, he was one of the only men I could actually trust—this was before the whole…
