I Was Raped By A Popular Figure in the Birding Community.

While birding in a metro Atlanta park on November 27, 2020, I was raped by a man I had come to trust and was dating at the time. 

TW// (Trigger Warning: This piece includes details of rape that may be disturbing to those who have experienced trauma.) 

Like so many of us across the planet, I was searching for some sort of escape from the bleak state of things in the summer of 2020. I had engaged in conversations around race, aided in nursing family members back to health after witnessing them experience everything from mild to severe Covid symptoms, and I had disinfected countless spaces. I just needed a break.

One of the safest options for staying entertained without the threat of being affected by a virus was to spend time outdoors. I had been taking my camera with me as I traveled at the start of the year and was reacquainting myself with the world around me by making beautiful flowers, plants, and trees the subjects of my photography. I bought a book that helped me identify plant life and offered to send a nature photo to anyone I knew along with a handwritten note with the goal of spreading love to others. I had been finding solace in getting closer to nature.

While working from home, I started to truly appreciate the sound of birds chirping because it signaled that I was alive. I felt like a Disney princess or something—if animated birds helped Disney princesses choose what pair of leggings to pair with a formal top for a Zoom meeting. The window I worked beside gave me a view of a Cardinal that became my constant companion for weeks. At that time, I had no idea I’d soon meet a human companion who had a connection to birds beyond anything I could imagine.

They Don’t Really Be the Same Offline*

I became aware of another avenue to explore nature via social media. While scrolling through my Instagram feed, I came across what seemed like the mental getaway I had been craving. It was a virtual week dedicated to incredibly smart, talented, and courageous Black people with educations and passions dedicated to various fields of science.

Growing up, science had been my favorite subject in school, and I had begun college as a biology major. This curiosity about life had stuck with me over the years. Coming across wholesome, science-centered content made me feel replenished. I soon followed members of this community on social media platforms and engaged with their content to learn more about their areas of expertise.

One of the people who facilitated these discussions over the course of the week happened to connect with people in various ways including bird watching field trips at Piedmont Park. I reached out via Twitter to inquire about the monthly field trips they led and decided to invite an acquaintance (and nature lover) along. The news that the person I invited was not able to accompany me paired with the price tag on binoculars made me start to rethink things. “Is this a hobby I am going to stick with? Will I genuinely have fun?” I decided not to give up on the new experience because I figured the group would be nice and things would be fine. The group was and things were.

After returning home from the October 3 field trip, I was met with a DM from the leader of the field trip thanking me for coming out and posing the idea of hanging out in the future. I didn’t think of the message as anything but a polite gesture and an open door for future opportunities to learn about birding. A text message from him followed days later. When “Hi,” appeared on my phone screen, I remember groaning. There was more to that polite message than it seemed. A couple of greetings into the text exchange, he asked if it was okay to text me casually. I considered that to be pretty self-aware of him because I was cringing at the thought of an innocent outing becoming a weird power dynamic where I was being generously given knowledge on birds in exchange for agreeing to date him or entertain him in a way I did not anticipate. I told him it was fine and more innocuous text messages were exchanged.

Pretty soon I was getting “good morning” texts. A conversation we had about a radio interview he had done became the segue into him gauging my interest in dating him. He was “asking for a friend,” and so I had him relay to his “friend” that I was flattered. He revealed that he thought I was beautiful and wanted to talk to only me during the field trip, but he had a walk to lead and wanted to be professional. I acknowledged that while I was also attracted to him, I was genuinely interested in birding. The truth is I had not considered anyone as a potential partner in a long time.

I had chosen to abstain from sex for years and instead placed energy into creative projects, spirituality and helping others. I expressed this to him and he responded by letting me know he respected my decision and would show himself to be worthy of being with me if I ever chose to go down that road. He assured me he would keep his attraction to me separate from the birding aspect and that was the case the first 3-4 times we met up for outings in October. Because I didn’t know him well, I texted family to let them know where I was, dropped my location, and gave updates just in case.

A Less Overtly Nefarious Form of Toxic Masculinity*

By our November 1 outing, things were different. Unlike the previous times where we greeted one another verbally, I was met with a hug. Later that day, he unexpectantly threw his arm around my shoulder. It was unannounced and my guard started to go up. I asked if he was tired—hinting at the arm resting across my shoulder and hoping he’d acknowledge just what he was doing. A small “Yeah,” came from his lips. Silence followed and he removed his arm.

We walked more and talked more before we walked down another path that was an offshoot of the main paved path. We listened for birds for a while but didn’t hear anything interesting. I turned to leave the trail, but before I could I felt him take hold of my hands. A mix of emotions flushed over me: surprise, worry, and even disappointment because I wasn’t sure what was coming next. I thought this was it—this was the moment I was going to have to fight him off. But I looked up to see him leaning in to kiss me. I was relieved. It was only a kiss. I kissed back. It was happening faster than I could think, so I pulled away.

“Was that okay?”

I replied, “I don’t know. I’m still processing.” He laughed. Then I half-jokingly asked if it was where he took all the girls to kiss them.

“That’s hilarious,” was his response, but said in a tone that sounded less than amused by my comment.

I followed up with, “Well if it is, it’s a lovely setting,” to try and inject levity into the situation.

“Birding isn’t exactly a chick magnet,” he said. We kissed again and continued birding, held hands, and eventually made our way to the parking lot.

“You’re really hard to read.” He expressed that he had been reading my body language to determine if he should kiss me. He confessed he wanted to kiss me on our first outing. I let him know I was glad he decided against it. I needed to feel safe with him. I pointed out the fact we were in a largely secluded place together and he was bigger than me. He agreed that making me feel comfortable was a priority.

We talked more, and I told him we needed to get to know each other better. He suggested we grab lunch the following weekend after birding in Piedmont Park. We met up like we had done in previous weeks and spent hours birding. Then we walked to find food. We dined on an outdoor patio and exchanged stories.

He made me laugh so hard I leaned forward and my knife went flying through the air. His eyes widened then he paused and returned my knife to the table before continuing his story. We addressed my choice to be abstinent and he jokingly asked how I don’t explode. He was kind to the waiter, he was charming, and I was starting to like him more.

I spend a great deal of time inside my own brain plotting out plans for the future. Activities that force me to be present and intentional in my actions have become increasingly good for me. Although this natural world has always surrounded me, the details were what I was missing. Enter: birding. When I spent time birding, he invited me to see the details.

He’d adjust his scope and let me peer through to see species even closer than I could through my binoculars. I fell in love with a Northern Flicker while looking through that scope and being in awe of its beauty, perched on a branch in the bright sun. Once, when night fell, we viewed the moon in all its glory from the parking lot of a trail. The moment was almost ruined by a woman who seemed equal parts confused about what we were doing and suspicious of us. But I will never forget the beauty of observing the moon’s texture.

Like our first kiss, he initiated an intimate act that took place in his car while we watched a movie at the drive-in. We had looked forward to seeing one another and kissing. But things quickly escalated beyond that point. He posed the option of intercourse to me. I said no. He wanted me to give him oral sex. I said no to this also. He didn’t get upset. He said, “That’s okay, baby.” I started to explain, but he held my face, looked me in the eyes, and kissed me. His response made me feel assured that he wouldn’t force me into anything. 

“What are we doing?” A week later we were in the parking lot of a park when I inquired about our relationship status. We were talking and spending more time together, and I wanted clarity on his expectations.

“Having fun and stuff,” was his answer.

I said, “That’s not vague at all.” He laughed and we talked things over deciding to try applying a title to our dynamic.

“You were already my girlfriend in my head,” he said before whispering that he’d move me in with him referencing a conversation we had about him considering renting a high-rise condo and the concern he had about the potential danger of huge glass windows for his small children.

I replied, “Into your dangerous high-rise?” We hugged and left to get pizza. We talked about our families then hung around in the parking lot of the pizza place after we finished eating. I called him out for ending a text conversation abruptly after I expressed that I didn’t want to get caught up in a moment and go further sexually. Those texts were sent on a Monday night. He didn’t text me again until that Wednesday.

“Because you annoyed me.” This caught me off guard and my face showed I was bothered by that response. He quickly followed it up with “Not because of anything you did.” He started explaining how I hurt his pride. I was informed that you hurt a man’s pride when he wants to flirt sexually with you but you shut him down.

According to him, he had wanted me to engage with him further in texts but he felt I had shut him down with my response. I explained I just wanted to make sure I was being clear about my stance.  He told me he already knew because we talked about it before. We moved on to other topics and shared a kiss. Before we left, he said, “I don’t know how to say this without sounding creepy—”

I laughed thinking what would follow would be something silly, but he went on, “Anyone who dates me usually wants a sample before we get into a relationship.” He called our scenario (a relationship that didn’t start with sex) new and different for him. We parted ways on that note. It’s red flags like that statement—or the fact he placed his hands around my neck and applied pressure to the point of discomfort when he kissed me in the park that night—that I wish I would have pushed for clarity on or addressed with more assertiveness. Instead, I took a mental note of his comment about flirting via text, and the next time he brought up thinking about me sexually, I engaged him by responding in a sexual nature.

This was not a declaration that I wanted to have intercourse or intended to escalate our actions beyond what happened in the car at the drive-in. He knows this. I would even go on to address this during a FaceTime conversation, before ending our relationship, where he stated our text messages were not connected to what he did to me the night of November 27, 2020.

I’m Not the Only One* 

On the morning of November 27, 2020, he picked me up from my house. We had planned to spend the entire day birding because he had been attempting all year to get one of the highest bird counts in Fulton County within the eBird app.

We visited multiple locations north of Atlanta. Alpharetta, Roswell, Sandy Springs, Johns Creek, and back to Sandy Springs. Before arriving at our final destination, we stopped to eat Chipotle. We took our food to a Zoe’s Kitchen patio. He bought a cookie and brownie as to not use their patio without making a purchase. Within the same sitting, he expressed how someone could love the f*ck out of someone while loving on someone else at the same time. He explained how people make the argument that you can’t love someone if you’re hurting them by cheating, but he pointed out the fact that the partner isn’t hurt if they don’t know. He confessed he could compartmentalize his emotions so that he did not feel bad about cheating.

He then joked about how I was going to break up with him. He followed that confession up with the fact he and an ex unintentionally inherited a dog from a friend and accidentally neglected it until it died. They were busy working opposite schedules and assumed the other was feeding the dog and giving it water. It was a lot to take in and a challenge not to make him feel judged as he held my hand and again joked that I was going to break up with him.

Moments like that randomly return to my memory. They serve as reminders that I made the right choice in deciding to end our relationship despite feeling bad for him, missing the positive time we shared, or trying to convince myself that him raping me was just a mistake rather than a deliberate decision.

We finished eating and left for a park in Sandy Springs to listen for Screech Owls. It was the same park where we had decided on a relationship and where he kissed me with his hands around my neck. We walked past the playground and down a set of steps that led to a boat dock.  We talked about wanting to learn to swim and I mentioned that I had taken a class at the start of the year.

We stopped in a grassy area where I remember leaning against a wooden fence. There was a wall of trees around us, but we could hear splashing in the water. I assumed it was someone swimming or involved in some other water activity. He thought it may have been beavers. We watched YouTube videos of beavers to compare the sound and power of a beaver’s tail splashing against water.

When we had given up on that, we started walking toward the parking lot. I asked him about the kind of owl his brother liked because I was comparing it to the same fondness someone in my life had for owls. After that, we walked in silence along the sidewalk, past his car and up the steps that lead to the hiking trail in the park.

We were listening for owls but didn’t see or hear anything. It was cold and I was ready to go. I thought we were about to leave, but he walked up behind me and kissed my neck. He started kissing me then pulled at my leggings around my hips. I stopped his hand with my hand. I didn’t expect anything else to happen besides us going to the car, but that was not the case.

While still standing behind me, he grabbed me (placing his arms beneath mine) and threw me against one of the trees behind us. Shocked, confused and afraid, I said “What are you doing?”

He responded, “I’m going to bend you over and f*ck you.”

I said, “I don’t think we should.” But he proceeded. He started pulling down my leggings and I held onto them saying I was wearing a pad and starting my period at any time. It was all I could think of. I thought it would maybe gross him out at the least. He told me it was okay and proceeded. He was touching my butt and I could hear him say “I just want to see it.” I’m not sure what “it” was but he started to put his fingers in my vagina. I felt frozen and didn’t know what to do or what would happen next.

He started thrusting between my butt then used his hand to move his penis around between my anus and vagina before penetrating me. I felt sharp pain and it burned. I did not want to have sex. I did not say I wanted to have sex and I did not initiate anything that would indicate I wanted to have sex. I did not enjoy any of it. He took it upon himself to throw me against a tree and tell me we were going to have sex.

Although I said I don’t think we should, he decided to continue. Suddenly he stopped. I pulled up my leggings immediately and I heard him say “What’s wrong, baby?” I turned around crying and told him that wasn’t what I wanted.

He apologized and hugged me then asked if I wanted to go to the car. He asked if we could talk and I told him I had nothing to say but he could talk and I would respond. He asked if it made me look at him differently. I let him know it takes a while for me to make up my mind sometimes. I cried and we drove back in silence with the exception of him expressing he was worried he “f*cked it all up.” I’m not sure if he was referring to us or his reputation.

I asked him to park for a few minutes so I could gather myself before getting home. I didn’t want anyone else to know something bad happened. In hindsight, I see I was already trying to protect him. I somehow felt bad for him even though his actions were his own doing. I had pelvic pain and was curled up in the passenger seat, but I reached to hold his hand to comfort him. He told me not to because it’d make him feel like everything was okay. We did hold hands for a while.

He started telling me about feelings he had for me and how he thought he’d end up telling me he loved me by the end of the year. He said I checked all the boxes for him. There was a lot of vague language used, and I was trying to make up my mind as to whether or not I believed him. As if him falling for me would negate him having sex with me without my consent? Wouldn’t someone who cares deeply for you keep you safe and avoid creating a dangerous situation for you?  How did he develop these feelings so fast?

We had only known each other for two months and didn’t even start officially dating until the previous week. For weeks, he’d been calling me pet names like “Babe” or “Beautiful” before I realized he didn’t know how to correctly pronounce my name. He asked if he could kiss me. I declined because I didn’t feel comfortable doing that in light of what just happened.

I felt silly for freezing up in the middle of what happened instead of fighting. After talking to a counselor, I am now aware that people respond to fear in different manners. I’m not the only one who freezes up in a moment of fear. It’s also worth considering the fact this person was someone I spent many hours with alone without this occurring. My rapist was someone I knew and trusted enough to be there alongside them that night. I was caught off guard by his actions.

He dropped me off at home, and I showered and tried to go to bed. I couldn’t rest. I kept replaying what happened in the park over and over again in my head. I was angry at him but also kept trying to convince myself that maybe he just didn’t understand I didn’t want to have sex. But he is a grown man capable of making good or bad decisions. There are many men who have existed in this world without ever grabbing someone from behind, throwing them against a tree, and deciding to have sex with them. Because that is a choice. He took my choice to wait to have intercourse away from me and for a while, my voice too.

Because I wasn’t sure if he was wearing protection, I called to ask him if I could be pregnant. He assured me I was not. I told him I was in pain and trying to recover so I wouldn’t be able to attend the birding trips he was guiding that Saturday and Sunday. I tried sleeping, but I couldn’t. 

He texted me the next morning apologizing and saying how he was ashamed and mortified for what he did to someone he cared about. I thanked him. He checked in to ask what was on my mind and if I felt like sharing. I had written out questions to ask him like if he heard me say “I don’t think we should” and if he even cared. I had no idea if he had any sexually transmitted diseases. There were other concerns I also wanted to cover during our FaceTime call.  

I asked him why he did it and what triggered him to throw me against the tree after kissing me. He did not give me an answer. He said anything he said would just be an excuse. He also mentioned my body language again like he had when determining if he should kiss me. In both of these cases, he failed to simply communicate with me by asking me what I wanted.

I told him I didn’t think we should be together because he obviously wanted to have sex and I couldn’t give him that. He told me I meant more to him than that and that he wouldn’t die without sex or forget how to do it. I pointed to the fact his actions said differently.

I had more questions for him after we ended our FaceTime call and I told him I wanted to call him Sunday also. He asked if he should be sitting down when I called because he was anticipating me breaking up with him. When he answered my FaceTime call, he was driving. It was hard to believe he thought this was the kind of conversation where multitasking was appropriate. I asked if he’d be able to drive and talk. He asked if I wanted him to pull over and I said yes. He parked and we started to talk.

He tried suggesting ways to fix things but quickly dismissed them because he realized he couldn’t fix things. He said he knew what it was like to hold my hand and kiss me but would give it all back for the chance to allow me to enjoy birding again. It was how I felt also. We expressed ourselves more. I finally told him I didn’t feel comfortable being around him anymore and couldn’t fathom remaining with him. I ended our relationship.

The week following the assault, I walked around in so much pain I’d have to shift my weight in creative ways to avoid the discomfort that came with simply sitting down. I was angry about what he did but I was also sad because it meant the end of a beautiful amount of time connecting with nature in a manner I had never done before. I also missed him. As silly or ashamed as I felt admitting I froze up in the park that night, I felt just as ashamed to admit I could possibly miss the person who had harmed me. It doesn’t make logical sense, but anyone who has ever returned to someone who harmed them by sexually abusing them, physically abusing them, or manipulating them knows how difficult it can be to separate yourself.  

I didn’t reach out to him the next day. But Tuesday I sent him a playlist I had started creating for him weeks before. I often express myself through music, and the songs were relevant to conversations we’d had. I thought maybe he’d understand how I felt. He thanked me and said he’d listen to it. I said, “You’re welcome.” I never reached out after that. Neither did he. I eventually blocked his number and his accounts across social media. 

He expected me to hate him. I hate the choice that he made so much. Some days I feel absolutely crushed. I experience anxiety if I happen to drive near one of the places we went birding or simply a road that reminds me of the routes. Flashbacks and tears come at random times. Memories of the night cause me to physically react. I cringe at the thoughts and feel like I am experiencing the pain all over again or the uncertainty of what is coming next.  

The kind gesture of a man holding the door open for me now makes me nervous, as I’ve become hyper-aware of men standing behind me. I have trouble sleeping uninterrupted every single night and I sometimes experience nightmares.

Weekends have proven to be the hardest. There are times I’ve struggled to find the motivation to get up and do anything or to even care about life at different points in time. When I can bury my brain in the full-time work or projects I am involved in, I find some relief. Prayer helps to bring about a sense of calm. 

Weekends had been what I looked forward to because I had time to explore trails. Now I second-guess going to nearby parks alone. Even though I was raped when I was accompanied by someone I trusted, the idea of spending time in nature alone still worries me. I don’t know people’s intentions or who could be watching me. Not that this was never a concern before, it is just so much more pronounced even when no one else is around. It’s all a result of the choice he made for both of us. 

I have been slowly easing into spending time outdoors again, but I either ask someone to go with me or I try to choose group dynamics or locations where other women are present. Is it the case that the only thing standing between me and the fate of being violated again is exploring in a group? Just as much as I like learning about new people and hearing the stories they tell, I’d just as easily choose to be by myself and enjoy the buzz of diverse ecosystems.

I’ve wrestled with the concept of forgiveness for years. I try my best to extend empathy to others—often asking myself if humans should be seen as the sum of our mistakes. Just as I would want forgiveness for a past mistake, others would too. But what if it was a decision rather than a mistake? And what if the decision someone else makes personally affects you every day and possibly for years? What if that person was devoid of empathy when the time came to extend it to you?

To borrow a quote from a blog he wrote, “One black person’s paradise can be another one’s terror.” He proved that to be true. The trails and parks should have been a safe space for me. Not because of the zip code or well-kept amenities. Not even because it was a place I could breathe easy without stressing over Covid. It should have been a safe space because nature does not belong to any one of us, yet it should be accessible to all of us in its many forms. He welcomed me into this beautiful world of birding but quickly stripped me of the enjoyment of it by altering my association with birds and the outdoors.

He is viewed as a trusted figure in the science field and an authority in areas of diversity and inclusion. The birding show he hosts takes him to locations around the country where he meets new people. He has access to women and children through his field trips, the work he does, and the panels or classroom conversations he is involved in.

While I truly hope this is an isolated incident, there is no way for me to know for sure. Now that I know what he is capable of, I cannot sit back and watch silently as others engage with him in ways that could place them in danger. I am writing this to tell my story in a way that is accurate and truthful. I am writing this to warn others. 

I hope he will be honest about his actions and hold himself accountable for what he did instead of denying it or pretending what occurred was consensual. I hope he never hurts anyone else in this way. 

Blackbird Fly*

Although it takes deliberate—and sometimes failed—efforts from me to avoid associating birds with him or what he did, I keep trying every day. There have been many days where I felt like giving up. I felt like my voice would never be truly heard. I am trying to remember who I was before this happened—the freedom I felt, and the comfort of knowing the sound of birds signal that I am alive.

Header References
*Drake, Nice for What
*Doja Cat/Saweetie, Best Friend
*Nirvana, Rape Me
*Blackbird, The Beatles