When I turned 12, My six years older brother decided that I was rape bait, and for the next year, he and sometimes one of his friends did whatever they wanted with me. I tried to tell my fundamentalist parents, but they wouldn’t believe me. So one sunny afternoon I put a target arrow in my brother’s chest to make him stop. They decided finally to believe me after that. A court case and trial, and the judge offered my brother prison or the army. My brother took the army, and my parents took me to therapy. Years of therapy. In the ensuing time, I’ve talked to my brother once. He blames me for every bad thing that ever happened in his messed up life. And no, I don’t regret shooting him.
People, including relatives, used to ask if being raped made me gay. Of course not - it just made it harder to accept I’m gay. By the way, throughout college and into my 20’s I held a National ranking in archery.