A Different Kind of Silence: What It Feels Like for Men to Be Survivors of Sexual Assault

Katlin Elaine
Jan 7
4 min read

Not harder. Not easier. Just different... and profoundly misunderstood.

When we talk about sexual assault, the world tends to paint a familiar picture: a woman in pain, a man in power. Headlines, statistics, awareness campaigns... everything centers that narrative. & please understand...women’s trauma is real, pervasive, and urgently needs justice and healing. But the world’s focus on that one experience has unintentionally created a blind spot where another kind of suffering goes unacknowledged.

We cannot see the full landscape of sexual violence or offer real support to all survivors if we refuse to look at the stories no one wants to talk about.

Because for men, sexual assault is not just violence... it becomes something more corrosive: invisibility crowned by shame.

The Numbers Are Real. So Why Isn’t the Conversation?

You’ve probably seen the statistics about women and sexual violence like how 1 in 6 women in the United States will be raped in her lifetime. That’s heartbreaking, pervasive, and demands our attention.

But did you know that according to federal data:

About 1 in 33 American men has experienced attempted or completed rape in his lifetime?
Broader national studies estimate that nearly 1 in 6 men have experienced some form of sexual abuse or assault, either as a child or an adult.
Despite these numbers, male survivors are far less likely to report their assault — often because they fear they won’t be taken seriously, or because they’ve already internalized the blame.

These are not anomalies. These are not small percentages that can be dismissed. These are entire human lives... hurting behind a curtain of silence.

Shame Wears a Different Face for Men

The shame that surrounds sexual assault for men is not the same shame women carry. It’s not that men don’t feel shame... they feel it deeply... but the shape of it is different.

For women, there’s a sick cultural tendency to ask questions like:

“What were you wearing?”
“Were you asking for it?”
“Were you a slut?”

For men, the underlying questions are quieter but more insidious:

“How could you let someone overpower you?”
“Are you weak?”
“Were you actually into it?”
And the cruel whisper many men hear after the assault: “Are you gay?”

This last question... the implication that a man’s identity is being called into question because he was assaulted... is its own form of violence. It tells young men that their trauma isn’t just not real, it’s a threat to their masculinity and their sexual identity.

And because men are taught from childhood:

“Boys don’t cry,”
“Be a man,”
“Real men handle their problems,”

… the result is often internalized blame rather than healing.

This is why so many male survivors:

don’t report their assault;
wait years — sometimes decades — before telling anyone;
and often blame themselves first.

One survey found that more than half of male survivors cited shame and embarrassment as major barriers to disclosure.

This isn’t just reluctance... it’s fear.

Fear of judgment.

Fear of disbelief.

Fear of being seen as less of a man.

Violence Is Violence... But Society’s Response Isn’t Equal

Let’s be honest: society treats male survivors differently.

If a woman reports being assaulted, the conversation...while flawed... at least recognizes victimhood.

If a man reports the same experience, the first words out of some people’s mouths are:

“But did you enjoy it?”
“You must be gay now.”
“Why are you making this about you?”
“Are you sure that’s what happened?”

These responses aren’t just insensitive but, they are profoundly retraumatizing.

& that re-traumatization drives many men back into silence:

Only about 20% of male survivors report the crime to authorities.
Many wait years to disclose.
Some never talk about it at all.

Compare this to the well-publicized efforts to support female survivors... support that men often aren’t offered. There aren’t as many resources, programs, safe spaces, or counselors trained for men’s experiences. Men sometimes have to fight twice, once against the trauma of the assault, and again against the idea that they shouldn’t feel hurt at all.

That’s not strength... that’s suppression.

This isn’t about diminishing women’s suffering or creating a hierarchy of trauma. That’s not the point.

The point is simple:

Sexual violence doesn’t discriminate, but society sure does.

We cannot talk about sexual assault in a comprehensive, compassionate way unless we include all survivors: