A Serpent’s Voice is a multimedia photo series about queer women’s experiences of sexual assault. Each participant tells their story while also shedding a metaphorical “skin” (liquid latex) in a series symbolizing healing, liberation from trauma, and renewal.
Those of us who have been sexually assaulted often have out-of-body experiences. The violence we have gone through leaves us feeling disconnected with a lack of autonomy over our physical selves. To symbolize this sense of physical alienation, participants in A Serpent’s Voice are coated in 3 layers of liquid latex representing the abuse and pain that each participant has carried for years. It is a cathartic process that captures a moment of reflection and empowerment.
"The child my mother had before me was a product of rape and I think I was carrying her pain and sorrow from that child. So my first experience with trauma was through the womb of my mother."
“I was actually kind of what kids would refer to as a “prude” in high-school. I guess that was frustrating for him because one night I had fallen asleep and I woke up to my arms pinned down and he was on top of me. – Afterwards, he told me, “Don’t make it a big deal, you’re still a virgin if you didn’t want it.” I couldn’t deal with the idea that I had been raped so I believed him instead.”
“My parents are from Taiwan and their story is kind of a rags to riches American dream. My Dad became a doctor so when I was assaulted as a teenager, I called him. Being Asian my family is very private, so he said we didn’t need to go to a clinic, and he would do the examination on me himself. He said he wanted to make sure I was ok, so he took me to his office when no one else was there, had me undress and did an exam. But there were never any tests done and we never told my Mom.”
“It wasn’t until I went to medical school that I realized what my Dad had done was not an exam. I was describing it to a friend and my first feeling was not for myself. I was more afraid to be betraying him, in that moment, it validated all the feelings I had growing up when I could feel his eyes on me. “
“No one was paying attention… I just remember I looked over at one point and there was this dead dog in a cage and I was like, I’m going to die under this underpass and everyone is just going to be like , oh Ashley she shouldn’t have gone to Cairo.”
“I can’t tell if people crave the saddest story, or if I just feel the worst incidents in all their brutal detail are the only ones that count. -- If I reveal those experiences, then will it matter? Then will it be valid? What I actually want to say, is it wasn’t one moment. It was all the micro-aggressions, it was the eye’s, it was their tone, it was being grabbed so many times it no longer seemed significant to keep track. It is the shame, it’s the way people want me to process and get over it, it's calling me tragic instead of strong, it’s the memory of fear that lingers even when I’m safe.”
“He choked me unconscious… When he finished, I stood up, but I was in shock. He just seemed neutral or happy even… I tried to go to work the next day but had to leave for the first time in years. I couldn’t swallow. It wasn’t until my friend used the word rape that I felt everything.”
“I remember thinking how does the person next door not know this is happening to me? How does the person upstairs not know? … Of course I understand the couldn’t have, but what makes me really mad is when people do know and do nothing.”
“I grew up in Mexico and there was a candy man who welcomed me inside his house to see the candies. That’s when he approached me more physically, more personal. He made me get undressed. I feel like I was doing something really bad but didn’t have any choice other than to just keep going. I was 11 years old.”
“Two weeks is how long I knew the first guy, 7 years is how long I knew the second guy… You can never tell.”
“He was suffocating me and I instinctively knew I can’t make a sound or he’ll kill me. I saw a figure sort of open the door, then close the door and walk away. In that moment I knew nobody cares what happens to me. I was 8 years old.”
"I just know that we are in really powerful times where these stories, my story could help all of us heal. I’m an empathetic human who had all her rights taken away at 4 years old, but I’m not the abuse that happened to me… I continue to shed the skin I came in with and the things that no longer serve my body, mind, and spirit.”