Photo editors: Brett Roegiers and Bernadette Tuazon
After I was raped, the days felt never-ending. It felt like I was clawing myself out of a deep pit, choking, starving, dying. I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t eat. I couldn’t work. I was existing in a space where panic attacks were frequent and unpredictable. Where is safety? What is safe? I was overwhelmed and terrified. The feeling was too much and I needed to take the edge off.
In trying to make sense of my experience, I picked up my camera and started shooting.
I photographed everything from what I was seeing to what was happening to how I was feeling. I felt like every survivor out there. If there was not enough proof, it did not happen. I kept photographing my proof. The proof of my struggle, of my survival. I learned to process through the lens of a camera. The work transformed itself into an expression of my silenced sorrows and pain.
Continue reading, here.
I was raped and broken. So I picked up my camera
Rosem Morton was raped one year ago on July 15. She turned to photography to help her process her pain and regain her voice.