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The movie Fifty Shades of Grey was released in 2015, a time when I was experiencing peak levels of anxiety and panic attacks around sex. I was a junior in high school, traumatized by routine sexual harassment and assault in the classroom, as well as fear tactic sex education I learned from school and the media. I distinctly remember the buzz around the Fifty Shades saga, and it terrified me. More and more people were exploring BDSM, something I only associated with violence at the time. I recall reading a newspaper article claiming that 25% of “Fifty Shades of Grey” books checked out from the library had traces of Chlamydia in the pages. So it’s no wonder that I’ve only seen the movie now, five years later, after exploring my sexuality and my kink identity.
A few weeks ago, I was scrolling through Twitter and I stumbled upon a news article about a recent sexual assault case. I read the article and then, against my better judgement, immediately went to go look through the replies to the original tweet. I was pleasantly surprised to find that nearly all the replies were full of empathy and compassion for the survivor, but there was one comment from a man that made me pause.