Nov 30, 2014 @ 07:26


As an avid watcher of #CNN and global news programs on a daily basis, I’ve recently been feeling a little anxious while I watch my morning news and haven’t been able to pinpoint why. I mean, the news is always pretty bad, but lately it’s been a little hard to bear. The Bill Cosby rape accusations and the Rolling Stones article about the fraternity party rapes, have uncovered a common culture that needs to be exposed.



Many of the women (victims) coming out against Bill Cosby have been holding on to their dark secret and shame for decades. People who have not been victimized or don’t victimize others can’t seem to fathom why no one spoke out sooner.

I can answer that question.

Get Help













Let me explain-

Shortly after I graduated high school, I was one of the first in my group of (so called) friends to get my own apartment. Although I was subleasing it from a mutual friend at the time, I was starting school at Houston Community College and was still SO proud to decorate my own space and have a hangout for my friends. I was a naïve young girl fresh out of high school, trusted many and inexperienced with boys/relationships having had only one boyfriend during my senior year of high school.

High School

After gaining all this freedom and doing some of the things that 18-year olds do, I ended my relationship and spent more time with my friends. My “best” guy friend at the time – we will call him *Arash, was a little nerdy (like me) but he was friends with some of the “cool” older guys. Some graduated from the same high school a year or two prior and others were in the same cultural circle. Sometime around Halloween, he was invited to a party at the “party house” and invited me to come along.

I was excited and happy to be hanging out with the “cool guys” , anxious to see familiar faces and nervous to imagine the possibility of seeing a crush or cute boy. We arrived to a full house and I was introduced to several people. Most of the guys I had seen in passing but some were completely new faces. As the night went on, I was my eyes fixed on a tall, built guy that I recognized from both school and my summer job. We were finally introduced.

A few days later, like the immature young lady that I was, I decided to write him a cheesy “love” letter. I told him that I thought he was attractive and smart and wanted to get to know him better if he ever wanted to talk on the phone or go out sometime. Of course, my letter was the ongoing joke for days in their group, but he did get in touch!

Fairy Tale

There I was, thinking my letter worked and that this guy (we will call him *Aiden) was really interested in getting to know me, when he invited me on a date! *Insert fairy tale daydream sequence here* He told me that he would pick me up, but I refused (trying to be cautious) and we settled on me leaving my car at the home where we first met. We had plans to go to dinner and when I got into his car, he asked me to give him my driver’s license because we were going to go to a club after dinner, and since I wasn’t 21 he needed my id to get a hook up. Did he want to take me out later too? Must’ve been a good sign!


I didn’t think twice when I handed it over, and shortly thereafter we were on our way to dinner. My nerves were at an all time high while we drove on Westheimer until he decided we had to make a quick stop to unexpectedly pick up another couple. He wanted to make it a double date so I would feel more comfortable, and I obliged. In my world it didn’t matter how many people were around, I was focused only on him.talkfinal

We arrived at an apartment complex behind a shopping center on Westheimer near Winrock, and he parked the car so we could go inside. He told me that it would be a “few minutes” and to “relax” because we were going to “have fun.” He led me to the apartment of his “friends” house and told me they were having a party.

We walked in and were welcomed so kindly by his friends but as I glanced around I didn’t see the couple we were expecting to pick up. *Aiden had gone to the balcony and was talking to someone, when I started to walk towards him. I wanted to find out when we were going to leave. They both came inside and guided me towards the kitchen. They wanted to celebrate. About ten shots of pre-poured liquor were in a line. Aiden handed me one, and they passed the rest around. We toasted, and although I had consumed alcohol in the past, something about this time was different.


I could feel all their eyes on me, watching and waiting. Fear started to take over, and I started to panic. Realizing that I was the only girl in the room, and somehow the center of attention, my instinct was to go to my date and ask him to leave. He was on the balcony again this time alone, and I made my way to him and asked him if we could leave. He looked me in the eyes and reassured me. “Everything is okay babe. You look so beautiful tonight. Would it be okay if I kissed you?” He is starting to lean towards me when instantly, my knees buckled from underneath me. I had been drugged.

Date Rape

I vaguely remember the horrendous details because I was in and out of consciousness, but I do remember faces and voices. I recognized a family friend (Omar) and begged for help as he forced me down and held my arms. They threw me around like a rag doll, like a pack of wolves fighting their prey. They pinned my arms down as they called me a “bi-ch” and “wh-re” , repeating that I was “disgusting” and that I liked what was happening to me. They pushed and pulled me in every direction and as I begged for them to stop I just kept crying, shaking my head and repeating “no”.

DruggedI opened my eyes. My head was leaning against my arms wrapped around the toilet, and a woman was holding my hair. She advised me to get it all out of my system because if I didn’t I wouldn’t be able to walk, so I forced myself to throw up even though nothing came out. “You aren’t the first and you won’t be the last,” she said. I could see the darkness was lifting outside, and I could hear some guys arguing outside of the bathroom.


*Aiden was nowhere to be found. He left me there. I had no car, no purse, no ID nothing. They didn’t know what to do with me. They discussed kicking me out until another guy showed up. *Jonny had met me once before. He was good friends with the couple I was subletting my apartment from, so he decided to phone them. He called. It was almost 4 am. He told *Lina and her boyfriend what they told him. “Your girl got wasted and had a little too much fun; you need to come get her!”tumblr_inline_ng9darDLKf1t2m81q

She refused and told *Jonny that she only knew me in passing. She said she would call the mutual friend that introduced us *Angeline, to see if she would pick me up.

I opened my eyes again and was hunched over in the backseat of an unfamiliar car. The two guys were laughing and joking in the front as if nothing had happened made it feel so surreal. The car pulled up to the Starbucks on Fondren and Westheimer, and they told me to get out. “Someone is coming to get you, stay by the trash can” one of the guys ordered. They drove away.


I sat there in the empty parking lot, unsure of whether they were telling the truth, and trying to fathom what had just happened, when I saw it. Her car.  *Angeline had come to rescue me! She was still in her pajamas, and as I stumbled to get up, she didn’t bother to get out of the car.

She looked at me like I was trash, and although I had tears streaming down my face she proceeded to berate me and express her anger towards me. “I don’t know if I’m going to be friends with you after this,” she said, “I don’t want to ruin my reputation!” I sat there stunned, unprepared for what she was telling me. “I’m embarrassed and ashamed that you could be so slutty; I can’t be friends with you!”


I pleaded with her to listen to my side and for her to understand that they drugged me and violated me, but she refused to believe me and made it very clear that NO ONE ELSE WOULD EITHER! She convinced me that I was just a “wh-re” and that when our circle of friends found out, they would all agree and shut me out. I told her I wanted to go to the police, but she advised me to “sleep it off” because I was “just wasted.” So I listened.


I went into my apartment, undressed and turned on the bath. I put the hottest, scolding water I could withstand and forced myself into the practically boiling water. Even as my skin turned red, I couldn’t kill the sensation of dirtiness on me. I painfully soaked until the water was cold and hid in complete darkness for two days. By the second day, *Angeline decided to check on me, but the guys had already spread their alibi- and she couldn’t be convinced.


*Arash came by and when I told him what happened, he told me that he knew they did things like that. I asked him why he let me go, and he said because he was “mad at me” for going on the date. He told me that I needed to pick up my car, or it would be removed and that they had my driver’s license. He gave me a ride to the house where the nightmare began, (the “house party”) and I knocked on the door to get my car keys and DL. The host no longer had that inviting look on his face, but a look of hatred and anger and he said “we know exactly where you live. “Everyone of us has a copy of your address. Imagine how your dad is going to feel when he finds out about what you’ve done? If you EVER tell anyone, we will find you and kill you and your family.”


I promised him that I didn’t want any trouble, and I apologized for leaving my car there. He laughed and slammed the door in my face. I felt overwhelmed with guilt and fear as I was already convinced that it was all my fault.

I tried to go back to school and pretend that my life had not been shattered, but I would see one of the guys on campus or in the parking lot and would become so overwhelmed with anxiety I would have to turn around and go home. I kept this secret for over seven years only telling my closest friends and a few others. It wasn’t until I got pregnant with my son, that I decided that I needed to fully let go of the pain, in order to be the best mother to him, and I proceeded to tell my father and the authorities.


I’ve told my story to police investigators, counselors, psychologists and psychiatrist with every name, location and detail accounted for. It doesn’t get any easier to repeat, but it is cathartic. It’s all officially on record now, and although I have not taken legal action against those cowards, I can sleep well at night KNOWING that justice will one day be served. What goes around comes back around.



I hope that you think about what you did to me and the other young ladies EVERY DAY of your life. As your families begin to grow, your sisters become women, your daughters become young ladies- the fear of this happening to someone you love will only intensify and the guilt will consume you. Your actions WILL NEVER be erased! No matter how much liquor you drink or how many drugs you do, YOU will always be a DISGRACE TO YOUR FAMILY. You are nothing but PREDATORS, ANIMALS, MOLESTERS, RAPISTS and worst of all PERVERTS. I pray that God protects your daughters from animals like you, because you guys know how EVIL people can be. You think you got away with what you did, but the truth ALWAYS comes out, just turn on the news. Your karma will come.

To my so called “friends” –

You all tried to tear me down. You doubted me, you convinced me and tried to break me down for many years, but now you see – I WILL NOT BE BROKEN! I have grown stronger and wiser than YOU WILL EVER BE because of this experience, and I can see the kind of people that you truly are. All of the things that were said about me, the jokes made, the pleasure you got from my pain, I forgive you. Although none of you have the decency to apologize, I don’t need to hear it anymore. You are guilty too. Hiding and protecting secrets instead of supporting and backing me up, it’s no wonder why you are all miserable on the inside. I don’t have any ill will against any of you because I genuinely feel sorry for you all. After today, none of you will exist to me, you’re completely meaningless, stored away in a dark little box labeled TRASH. Thank you for teaching me what the saying means: “with friends like you, who needs enemies?”

To women who have been through this-

Tell someone. Anyone. Don’t be afraid to go to the authorities. Get everything on record right away. What has happened to you is WRONG, and you don’t have to be afraid to speak out. Don’t let anyone tell you not to go to the police, or shame you into believing that it’s your fault. It wasn’t your outfit, your makeup- there is no amount of sexiness or intoxication that would ever make it your fault. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT!! It’s time to take back our power as women and stand together against this social stigma towards rape/assault victims. #STOPRAPESHAMING – and #PROSECUTETHEPREDATORS! If you or anyone you know has been through this before and needs help or just someone to listen to you there are several resources out there-


Feel free to message me,comment online or email me at: Roayalproductions@gmail.com & find me on Facebook.com/MichelleRukny or Twitter @MichelleRukny

Other resources available:
1-800-656-HOPE or online


With love for victims everywhere,Michelle Rukny



Watch this amazing song by Lady Gaga written by: Diane Warren about College Rape


Conspiracy Theorists Response to Facebook Post About Conspiracy Theories

I explicitly used the word “correlation”..

1st- There is no true way to do a study of that magnitude to prove “causation” without significant bias, which is why you won’t find research on it.

2nd- When people do speak out, they have their licenses stripped, their lives threatened and then they are humiliated and forced to retract their statements. What would be your motivation? Do you think a “peer reviewed journal” doesn’t have internal bias, and who exactly would put millions on the line to support a study like this? Look at how much backlash 1 simple post can cause- imagine the magnitude of profits these companies would lose!

I think it’s ingenuous for some to think that we live in a world where the government actually listens and cares about it’s people, or the idea that higher populations do not = higher energy which doesn’t =more heat which DEFINITELY WILL NOT HAVE some type of affect on the chemical balance of the earth.. ( – * 1000% sarcastic *-)

You do what you can with what you are given, so for those who don’t accept what is told to them just because, it’s possible to find supporting and opposing information on several controversial topics and piece it together to formulate your own truth. That doesn’t mean it’s a conspiracy, it’s just the way the world works.

Money talks PERIOD.

Your point about PHARM companies fighting to cure and prevent really isn’t logical- $5,000 for a cancer curing pill or hundreds of thousands on a lifetime of pills, chemo & treatments, which one will generate more profit?  Oxy/Roxy anyone? –>the new heroin?

I’m gonna go out on a limb here and assume that some of you would also say that GMO’s are good for our children!!? That the GMO FRENCH RAT STUDY- was also a fraud? It’s that other article that was forced to be “retracted”, so does that make it invalid? He must have been lying too or could it be possible that BILLIONS of dollars silence people?


What about the obesity epidemic?

and thank GOD for those millions of $$ in subsidies the USDA (who runs that again?) gives BIG AGRI-business (MONSANTO) to make those GMO’s & nutritious processed foods, instead of those shady (soon-to-be out of business)- family farmers who grow those disgustingly healthy natural fruits and vegetables!!?



Memoirs – Age 11 – Left Behind

I spent my first year of middle school in transition. I was sent to live with my aunt and my favorite cousin because at the time my mom wasn’t doing so well, and I was getting picked on and bullied at school. My grades started dropping due to my situation at home, and just got worse when I couldn’t find peace at school. So I suggested moving into my aunts, and my mother agreed, since it would benefit us both.

I loved every moment of living with my aunt. I lived a few minutes away from Spring Oaks Middle School and was able to listen to my Mariah Carey & Boyz II Men cd’s on the short walk to school. Those few short minutes of singing while I walked, were the peace and escape I was so desperately looking for. That didn’t last long. After a few months, due to several personal issues between my mom and my aunt, it was decided that I was to go back with my mother even though I pleaded to stay.

The first few weeks were pretty normal, I was driven to school in the morning and picked up by either my mom or her husband at the time, Owen. It was friday afternoon, and all the buses were parked and ready for the kids to scramble on. I was in choir class and since we used our time as rehearsal, our teacher let us out a few minutes early. I sat exactly where I normally did and patiently waited for my ride to arrive. As the buses began pulling away, and the parent pick-up line began to dwindle, I came to the realization that they were going to be late. It was already approaching 4:30 and school was let out forty minutes prior.

As one cd turned into two and two turned into three, I started to see some of the faculty leave. I began to get worried. This was a time before cell phones and my attempts to call the house from the school office went unanswered. I was no longer a few minutes away from home, and perhaps because of the rejection, I didn’t feel welcome at my aunts. As the faculty cars pulled away, and I ran out of cd’s to play, the Principal, Mr. Johnson, began walking towards me.

He asked me who I was waiting for, and if I had any success reaching them. He mentioned seeing me in the main office using the phone and was concerned. I tried to brush it off and blame myself but he wasn’t hearing it. It was almost seven, and he and I were the last ones on campus, other than the custodians. He asked me to pick up my belongings and follow him, when at the end of the street, I saw a car pulling in. My relief was short lived and quickly evolved into panic when I saw the situation unfolding in front of  Mr. Johnson.

The front windshield was shattered but still attached, and at the moment we were unaware that she had kicked it  in with her heel, while attempting to jump out of the moving car. Owen got out of the vehicle and tried to hustle me into the car, however, Mr. Johnson wasn’t going to let me go that easily. He asked Owen why they were so late and before he could get out a word, both of our worst fears began to happen. She got out of the car and stumbled towards us. There were 6 stairs blocking her from us and if Mr. Johnson were to have been an officer, she would have been arrested on-site. She began yelling at us for taking too long, and then began to get verbally aggressive towards Mr. Johnson and Owen. She was screaming and  cursing, and in between rants she would drift off into a sleep like state, all the while sitting on the steps of my middle school.

At that point, Mr. Johnson refused to allow me to leave with them, and insisted on calling the police. I pleaded with him. I told him that my mother was on medication and that I really needed to get home to finish my schoolwork and to feed my puppy. Owen managed to scramble her into the car and went along with my story. He assured Mr. Johnson that I would be okay and that we would be putting her straight to sleep. I don’t know what would’ve happened to her if he had called the authorities, but even in the midst of my mortification, I instinctually protected her, and knew that I would be the only one who could convince her, once again, to close her eyes and sleep.

Memoirs – Age 5 – Can I Take Her Pain Away?

{ PREFACE: Mami, please don’t be hurt by what I am writing for it is my truth, and the only way I can move past it, is to surrender to it. I love you always and forever and do not blame you, but our story of addiction should be shared. }

I walked through the door of our two bedroom apartment. The music was so loud, but of course it didn’t bother me, I was accustomed to The Three Tenors. The apartment seemed empty, which was strange, since my mother was there when I left about 4 hours prior. I was a pretty obedient child, and I always knew, when it started to get dark it was time to go home.

I closed the door behind me and began to wonder. Where could my mom be? I walked towards my bedroom and before I made it past the dining room I found her. There she was, lying in fetal position, vinyl records scattered all over the floor around her. Any other child would have been scared to see their parent on the floor and perhaps would have panicked, but this wasn’t an unusual scene at Casa de Rodriguez, in fact, I almost felt dumb for not knowing she would be there.

I turned the volume down, and it almost seemed as if she was hypnotized by the music, because she quickly began to open her eyes. They were red and bloodshot, and she had smeared mascara all over her face from the tears she was shedding hours before. I could smell the alcohol protruding from her body and at that point it clicked. She was drunk, again.

As I helped her get up, she went through the usual range of emotions in a matter of minutes. What started as confusion quickly turned to embarrassment, when she realized where and in what state she had been discovered. From embarrassed to angry for the disruption the final state was generally sorrow.

She asked me to sit next to her as she cleared the records from the floor surrounding her. I had heard this all before, but I listened, because that sorrow could easily have turned back into anger, as she was in a very emotionally volatile state of mind. I began to hear the same story, pretended it was new, and listened because that was all I could do. I heard about her fathers’ death when she was just a young girl, and how she wasn’t given the chance to say goodbye and about how much she missed touching his face and hearing his voice.

I knew where the story was headed. There would be more tears, a panic attack or two and then eventually I would remind her that I had school in the morning and really wanted her to sleep next to me. I knew, even at that age, that it was the only way to get her to go to bed. So as that night wrapped up, she sang me a lullaby and drifted off into a happier dream world, while I laid there and continued to process my reality and wonder if I would ever be able take her pain away.

A New, Better Monitoring System for Prescription Medications

As the daughter of an alcoholic/drug abuser, I have had to deal with many things in my life. At this point, most of them don’t surprise me, however, every now and then I come to conclusions that leave me speechless & somewhat hopeless. One of my most recent realizations (when I say recent, I mean a few years) is the unintentional corruption within our Health Care System. I can no longer stay quiet and offer a solution to this massive problem.

A normal patient walks into any doctor he/she can afford and is treated for whatever symptoms he or she has. They are given a prescription and as long as they can pay for the RX to be filled, they will leave the pharmacy after about an hour, with the solution to their ailment. What about people like my mother? They have found very clever ways to manipulate the system, because of their need for the drug, or the money that selling the drug on the street can provide. We will use my mother as an example.

A year or so ago, I found a bag in her purse containing 26 various medications. Some were the same medication from different doctors, filled on the same day, through the same franchise pharmacy, but at different locations. In her case, she willingly abuses some of the narcotic medications as well as accidentally repeats doses, since mixing certain drugs together causes her to forget what she has taken. My search began here, as I began to note the medications and the prescribing doctors. Many of the doctors that she went to, were “pain-management” doctors or general practitioners that basically see a patient every 10-15 minutes for the money. This outraged me, so I decided to call one of the main doctors prescribing her these downers & pain pills. After asking to speak to him directly over a serious legal matter regarding my mother, I was able to get him on the line. I asked him when the last time he had seen my mother was, and he stated it was at least a year ago. She had prescriptions for things like glucose, hypertension and cholesterol that were being refilled without a physical follow-up.  His secretary was basically authorizing these refills. I asked him if he knew that she was being prescribed the same medications from other doctors and he claimed to have no idea, so at that point, I threatened him with legal action and hung up the phone. Then it dawned on me, how could he know? Unless she was dumb enough to actually tell him, there isn’t really a system in place that logs these things.

Doctors have a responsibility to keep their patients safe and perhaps if there was a united monitoring system, we could prevent the prescription drug overdose epidemic. What if there was a fool proof way of logging what prescriptions we fill and refill. For example, when you go to the doctor, give your fingerprint & a special patient identification code (linked to your social security) this information is then given to the pharmacy when you drop off your prescription. The pharmacy has the same system that logs you in and verifies that what other medications you might have at other pharmacies. This verification is done for a variety of reasons, such as abuse prevention or to assure that medications with contraindications aren’t being accidentally mixed. This system would log your Id/fingerprint and similarly to your drivers license, would retrieve a prescription report through your ID at any pharmacy throughout the country. This would also assist in preventing people who sell the drugs on the streets from being able to get their hands on multiple prescriptions at a time. I would love to hear what your solution to this problem could be, since we are the ones responsible for our own family, children & societies wellbeing, together we can make changes that can help all the people that are touched by addiction.