Abstract
—Grayson Hunt1In 2015, I visited Lake Cumberland in Kentucky for a day of boating and swimming with friends. At one end of the lake was an amazing waterfall. As I was swimming near it, I looked up and saw a man thirty feet above in the bushes on top of the falls. He waved. I waved back. Only he wasn’t boating; he was just standing there. So I stared at him, wondering what he was doing up there. Then I realized he was masturbating. Stunned, I turned away to swim back to the boat, and I could feel shame sneaking into my chest and face. I began to feel responsible for what was happening to me, which was the very message I internalized after being sexually assaulted as a teen. This time, however, I decided that I...