Archive for the ‘Personal Stories’ Category

*********Trigger Warning********


I have been waiting to write about Steubenville, but I have not yet found what I was waiting for to begin forming thoughts about it – hopeful clarity and reconciliation of the fact that so many people watched this happen and did nothing to stop it. Young women played a role in this, but that aspect is disturbing to me but far from shocking.

Two girls have been charged with crimes for threatening Jane Doe. Countless girls saw Jane Doe being carried around like a sack of potatoes, but how many helped her? None. What about the “former best friends” who testified that they did not believe her about the night in question? Ok, so they don’t believe her, but they also don’t believe the videos, the photographs, the Tweets, or the infamous speech that Michael Nodianos wanted us to laugh at when he said, “she was so raped” over and over again in a multitude of disturbing and creatively constructed ways through his barely contained giggles. In fact, it was not Jane Doe who initially said she was raped – it was everyone else who watched it, filmed it, and laughed about it until the police came asking questions. No one has to believe Jane Doe; all we have to do is watch two minutes of that video and all doubt flies away like a dandelion in wind. I thought, at least, it was enough to disburse any doubt.

What is happening to me has a little to do with PTSD. It is not often that I see anything where girls have played such a blatant role, but when I do, it is especially painful. The first time I was raped, girls I’d known for years cheered and made jokes while I was assaulted. I thought I was safe because they were there, but I was never more unsafe. I had a hard time trusting anyone. I was a fifteen year old virgin. They were supposed to be my friends, my buddy system, my safety net as girls in packs were believed to be safer.

In the healing process, I nearly tanked my life running from that night and the harsh reality it forced upon me via a group of girls I thought I could and should trust. That should in the trust phrase is crucial to what happened to me. Had I known that the funny feeling I had prior to the assault was not me being paranoid and sometimes, it’s ok to be rude, I would have fled into the dark night on foot to escape. I would have called 911 and asked for help, but by the time I knew what was happening, it was happening.

I left the nice college prep school my parents had me attending and went to a public school that didn’t want me before dropping out of high school because one of the girls who cheered while I was raped began going to school there as well. I feared going to college so much that I put it off as long as I could stand to wait tables or work for relatively low wages in my early twenties. By the time I started, I figured they would be done in case we went to the same college. When I did finally go to college, I felt riddled with fears I had thought were laid to rest. In retrospect, all of this was an irrational fear as a result of unchecked PTSD, but I didn’t know that until I knew it.

So, this involvement of women or young girls is very difficult for me to digest even from the distance between Ohio and Tennessee and people I will never know or see. I lost my voice for the last week or so. But people keep talking to me about Steubenville, and I want to say something about the way we as women deal with each other. We all need to stop participating in our own oppression. We need to start unpacking the messed up messages we’ve gotten since we were born and begin truly recognizing our own humanity.

That is not always easy especially if you aren’t familiar with a lot of terms like “privilege.” Privilege is more than the ability to go out on a Saturday or an amount of money in the bank. Privilege is something else entirely in terms of “male privilege,” “heterosexual privilege,” “white privilege,” “white female privilege,” or “black male privilege.” There are more kinds of privilege to deal with in a single sentence, but the idea is that we are all attributed certain rights that are not all the same. White privilege does not always mean that we are intentionally cashing in on the white card if we are white on purpose, but we do cash in on it in ways we have not ever even recognized – like when white people get pulled over by police, there is often a much different course of action taken than what people of color might experience.

We need to let ourselves be a little uncomfortable in doing this, and we need to do it because we have young women coming behind us. We need to recognize fully rape culture and debunk it one uncomfortable conversation at a time – whether that conversation is one we have with ourselves or with other people. Sometimes this isn’t easy to do. I have had to recognize some unpleasant things about my own thinking as a result of patriarchal brainwashing.

We don’t need to do this just for women and girls coming behind us; we need to do it for the men and boys coming behind us and living with us. For example, women are sent messages about looks defining our value; men are sent messages about diamonds making their love valuable. Both are dehumanizing and condescending. Patriarchal oppression oppresses everyone in different ways.

Steubenville highlights the sense of entitlement that all of these young men who laughed – just laughed – had to the spectacle of a human being treated like a sex toy. They urinated on her, but there are people lamenting their “ruined lives.” They urinated on her. Are there so many sociopaths in the world that people really don’t get how serious that is? These two sociopaths will never be redeemed. What are we lamenting? Would we lament the deaths of KKK members who lynched someone? Maybe she’s not literally dead, but her life as she knew it is over. Her best friends testified against her in a rape trial. How can a victim even be testified against? Why would a victim be testified against?

God only knows what they would do next if they hadn’t been busted on social media thanks to these two friends of hers. Her friends went into court saying she was not drunk enough to lack the ability to consent, and they know this because “she lies about things.” As if they didn’t lie when they said they were her friend. My true friends did not even do that to me and there were no cell phone cameras in 1992 when this happened to me. I was not drunk, so I remember what happened except for what trauma may have complicated in my memory. I remember that I did not consent. I remember saying no. I remember people laughing and mocking me when I said no – including people I thought were my friends.

Which leads to my second point about the urination – people, including plenty of women, have gone on television to talk about how much they hate this girl despite the mountain of evidence that is out there thanks to Anonymous. On Dr. Phil, I saw the interview of a woman who is raising a football player son literally foaming at the mouth over Jane Doe, but not bothered at all by her son’s friends urinating on an unconscious young girl. They did not release sexual tension on her; they were getting off on humiliating her. When people stop looking at this as a sexual thing and start recognizing it as the sadism it is, we will see a paradigm shift that could possibly result in the end of rape as an expectation. People watch all the time as an unconscious person is carried away from a party or bar. People could stop watching and start intervening.

Why don’t we intervene already? Some of us may feel like it is not our place. Convention prevents people from breaking the age old gender roles we have bound ourselves in. It is uncomfortable to confront people. However, getting raped is far more than uncomfortable, and if it is you being dragged away clearly incapable of communicating anything, you might appreciate a good friend making sure you get home safe and not in the hands of a bunch of football players (or whatever pack of psychos dressed up like real people are attempting to treat a human being like a thing or a toy).

Maybe sometimes this looks really uncomfortable, but just think of how nice it would be to have someone help you if you were in that situation. Instead of victim shaming other women for drinking too much at a party, try making sure you get your drunk friends home safely and make sure they will do the same for you should you have too much to drink.

Let’s stop telling women how to avoid being raped and start telling men what will happen to them if they do rape someone. Let’s stop acting like rapists are victims of some messed up system. Rape victims are victims and rapists are criminals – one of the most offensive kind. 97% of rapists never see a conviction. That number is so ridiculously high that I do not understand how rape apologists can suggest that “we just don’t know,” or “it’s just so hard to prove.” We do know, but we don’t like what we see. Indulging in ignorance has created a system virtually free of consequences for rape.

Is this the world we want to leave behind? One where women are responsible for rape and men are given 97% carte blanche to rape us? To rape our daughters, goddaughters, nieces, and granddaughters in the future? Is this the world we have to live in? Not me. I think I’ll invest some discomfort into our future for the sake of hope for a better world.

I’ll be writing about this again when my thoughts are better organized, but I wanted to say something about this tonight.


third bloom on orchid march 11 2013 008

At age 17 I was raped on a second date. At age 19 I was raped by a man I had just met. For many years I thought both instances were my fault. I told no one. Eventually I was able to speak about them in the most general of terms but I still felt at fault. Over a decade later I was able to talk about them in more detail without paralyzing flashbacks, but I still thought I was to blame.

It wasn’t until the 2012 election season that things really began to change for me. All the crazy things candidates were saying and the subsequent conversations about those comments made me angry and sad and scared and … guilty. Why was I feeling guilty? I couldn’t figure it out. So I did what I always do when I am confused – I threw myself into research.

I started researching the statements politicians were making. I researched the commentaries on these statements. I researched rape, rape statistics, rape laws, the medical and psychological effects of rape and I read many survivors stories. I don’t remember exactly when or how but somewhere during all this shifting through information I had the most profound realization of my life: my assaults – my rapes – were not my fault. Period. Full stop. No ifs, no buts, no howevers. Not. My. Fault. This wasn’t just a change to my memories. It was a change to my way of thinking. It was a change to the way I viewed everything.

I was no longer a victim, I was a survivor. I was no longer ashamed, I was indignant. I was no longer scared, I was determined. What had haunted me for years was now something that gave me strength. But I began to wonder that if I had been so wrong about this for so long, what else was I wrong about? I slowly became aware of many things I had been wrong about, but that’s a different story.

My point here is to show that if I – a well-traveled, college educated, strong, independent woman and self-declared feminist – can fall into the trap that is the rape culture we live in, then anyone can. Victim blaming is so prevalent that even the victims blame themselves. Excuses are made for rapists. Rapists are shown pity. The victims are blamed, shamed, scorned and threatened. This is completely ass-backwards!

I feel that it is now my duty to speak up; to tell my truth. To let others know that it is NEVER the victim’s fault. To let other survivors know that it isn’t their fault. It doesn’t matter what you wore, what you did, or what you said. Unless you distinctly said “yes” with a clear and able mind, then it was rape! As my husband said to me this morning, “It’s really simple. If the other person is unwilling or unable to say ‘yes,’ then don’t do anything [sexual] with them.” He’s right. It really is that simple. An un-coerced yes means yes. Anything else means no.