I’ve never been one to admit my innermost terrors to anyone, including myself. It seems anything universally considered self-shattering and horrific is rarely publicly acknowledged.

Open forum for sexual discussion in particular is wholly taboo in the U.S. For a country so open to “sexual expression,” rape and sexual assault are often relegated to the back burners of discourse, right behind safe sexual practices.

I have been fortunate enough to have never experienced sexual assault of any kind, and I can’t begin to imagine the recurring horrors victims must feel. The thought of suffering physical and emotional violations in an act often reserved for someone you would trust with your life must make even the strongest individual falter.

I sometimes will see others on campus and wonder if they’ve ever done it. Were they caught? Did the victim even speak up? What if she didn’t and he continues to hurt others in the same way?

What about the court system? Fifty-four percent of all rape prosecutions end in either dismissal or acquittal. So even if he were caught, would he suffer repercussions?

I don’t consider myself subordinate to men in any way, so confessing a fear of them in a particular context feels like a subjection. Such a subjection segues to the blame game in which everyone participates: It’s the victim’s fault because she shouldn’t walk alone at night. It’s society’s fault because men are socialized to believe women should be objectified.

This process of blame varies from culture to culture, too: Being raped may dishonor the victim and the victim’s family. Rape victims are sometimes killed to restore honor to the family, so reactive measures remain unclear across different populations.

The way I imagine it, the physical pain of rape and the possible beatings sound like the worst, but the loss of control haunts me most — how I probably won’t be able to fight back. How I will lose the battle, no matter how furiously I struggle. How, for a matter of seconds, my life will hang in a delicate balance between potential lifelong trauma and death.

And then I’m caught in this nauseating cycle in which I dread an everyday reality: One in six women and one in 33 men will experience sexual assault.

Yet fears are relative. They aren’t always rational and they’re typically rooted to how we carry ourselves. I clutch pepper spray in my hand, safety off, whenever I walk alone in the evening. I check my trunk and back seat before getting into my car. I fling open the shower curtain when I return to my apartment, expecting a murderer lurking.

Two-thirds of rapes, however, are committed by someone who is known to the victim. My behaviors aren’t exactly grounded in rationale, but very few are aware of statistics of rape and where the real risk lies.

Nine years ago, my DARE officer basically told me that strangers were going to hide drugs in my candy. That never happened, and I’m fairly certain I won’t find Jack the Ripper in my shower. Now that I know the facts about drugs, my attitude toward drug use is more realistic. Similarly, I know that the lack of dialogue about rape perpetuates the enormity of my fears.

My fears and behaviors are inextricable, naturally, and my fear of rape specifically leads to my subsequent fear of even admitting I’m afraid. I didn’t want to finish this column, I didn’t want to be this candid, but the discussion has to start somewhere.

As a society we’ve been pointing fingers and repressing the experiences of victims for far too long. We’ve been avoiding the issue by focusing on the 2 percent of reported rapes that turn out to be fabricated, using this exception as a reason to not take sexual assault as seriously as the crime merits.

We’ve been ignoring the movements to raise awareness for an extremely horrific and prevalent issue that affects people of all races, gender identities and socioeconomic statuses.

I may not be offering a solution to the problem, but I’m encouraging a population all too aware of the matter to consider its own ideas, beliefs and fears of sexual assault and rape. Expression is the first step toward correction and recovery.

So speak up.

Catherine Fish is the State News production crew chief. Reach her at fishcath@msu.edu.