Originated June 8, 2016 Beautiful & Dark.
Reality of Rape: Why I am far from shocked about Brock Allen Turner’s Sentence
This past weekend, social media was abuzz with news of Brock Allen Turner’s six month sentence for raping an unconscious woman behind a dumpster. You might not remember when news of the rape originally broke, but I do. I remember saying out loud, “Wow. Witnesses. Maybe we’ll actually get a conviction on this one.” It’s a sad reality, and not at all a stretch to realize that eye witnesses to your rape are one of the very few ways to possibly get a conviction.
Did you know that 97% of rapists will receive no retribution for their crime? Not a single day in jail. No sex offender registry. No punishment. Not a slap on the wrist. Rape is, in fact, the least reported crime. 54% of sexual assault goes unreported. After reading the victim impact statement written and shared from strength and fierce survivorship from Turner’s victim/survivor, it is not at all difficult to see why though some will still ask. Some will still say “If I were raped, I would report it.” “If I were raped, I would speak out.” “If that were me, I would do blah blah blah blah blah…” If you are privileged enough to say, “If I were raped,” know that you have no right to speak words after that. You do not have the right to speculate what you may or may not have done. I tell every single survivor I work with that you did what you needed to do to survive and it worked because you survived. It is true, and not another soul can speculate what he or she would have done in your particular situation.
Six percent of rapists spend a single day in jail, and what we don’t talk about is that a big, giant, chunk of cases are plead down to lesser charges. Sometimes it is because the victim feels she or he cannot bear going through the hells of trial. This is fine because it should be the survivor’s decision in the end. However, we must ask what the hell we are doing in the court system that makes SO so many survivors feel they cannot bear to go through with it. I’ll give you a hint. We are asking what they were wearing, what they were drinking, about their sexual history, and about their relationships. We are asking about their beliefs, about what they do for fun, about their friendships, and goals, and plans. We ask intrusive questions about their lives because the victim is on trial. This is literally the only crime where we wring the victim out on the stand, examining her life from all angles.
What gets me most about this whole case is how shocked the world is. My news feed has been flooded with shares about this case. Thankfully, everyone has supported the survivor, and been disgusted with Turner, his father, friend, and the judge who offered up such a lenient sentence. I am utterly stunned that everyone is so shocked. I’ve seen post after post stating things like, “Is this real life?” and “Are you kidding me??” and “I cannot believe this.” It IS horrible! I am standing with you in that THIS. IS. AWFUL. At every angle, this makes me angry and horrified. Yet, this is the reality of rape. This is actual reality for rape survivors. We survivors, and those working in the field are actually supposed to be pleased that there was a conviction at all. We are supposed to be grateful he is being punished albeit incredibly brief. But I won’t take these scraps. I won’t sit back and be complacent for a second that this is reality. This is not ok.
My friends and family know that I was raped. I am not quiet about it. I was raped by an entitled Chemistry major who was in a fraternity, cute, and well-liked. He raped me after we had broken up in my dorm room on the bed I would have to continue sleeping on until the end of the year. After, my male friend asked if I knew what I was accusing him of. Then, 6 1/2 years after, working in the field and dedicating my life to changing rape culture, I was drugged in a bar in my town, taken to a home of a man I did not know, and I was raped in his home. He terrorized me, dragged my lifeless body around like a “ragdoll” they said in court, and I was raped three separate times. I was pressured by the deputy district attorney to let him plea down to one count of sexual assault. I refused and my prosecutor supported me whole-heartedly. “That is NOT what happened to you,” he assured, and we pressed through.
I made the choice to go every single month to court, even though I knew it would be continued. I wanted the judge to see how serious I was, and I wanted to show my rapist that he did not win and that I would not back down. It was the hardest year of my existence. I sat on the stand in trial, watching my entire life ripped apart, being challenged on every word that I said. For 4 1/2 hours I was questioned and pressed and torn. I looked down from the stand at my rapist, as he and his attorney looked at pictures of my naked and bruised body offered up as evidence. He got to see my vulnerable parts once more. A week later, the judge on my case offered up a verdict through the mail, something that they only do for minor crimes. She acquitted my rapist on all counts. It was then I saw some supporters drop off. I watched some people become silenced. What they did not know was that THIS was reality. The judge on my case told the prosecutor that she didn’t believe a word my rapist said. She believed me. I watched, and he watched as the judge had tears in her eyes as I told my story. And yet, she acquitted my rapist on all counts.
I’ve had survivors reaching out to me this week, talking about how triggering all of this is, and how reading about what happened to the survivor in Standford brings them back to details of their own rapes. I’ve read some survivors on social media struggling to make sense of something that happened to them too. The details are gruesome and the aftermath just as horrific in many ways. Yet, this is the reality of rape. This is the reality that I live with every single day, and this is the reality that all of my clients live with, and this is the reality that all of the people who have spoken about it, or who hold it deep inside, deal with every day. Rape is awful and it happens…a lot. And it leaves a trail of shattered pieces that the survivor has to deal with now, very often on her own because when the dust settles, it’s just you standing there still in the muck trying to find a way out.
About 10 years ago, I was frustrated that people were ignorant about rape and the frequency at which it happens. I was frustrated that people did not understand that they do know people, many people, even if they have not disclosed to them, who are survivors. But I was reminded that I know this stuff because I work in this field and surround myself with it every day. Tonight, I was reminded the same thing, but this frustrates me even more because its been TEN YEARS since I first struggled with this idea. So much awareness has happened since then. Biden and Gaga and survivors on stage, survivors sharing on social media their experience with trauma, a tv series about sexual violence, songs, celebrities speaking out, laws and bills and movements. Why is it that we cannot fathom that this is reality?
It is difficult to think that 1 in 4 (conservatively speaking) will be sexually assaulted in her lifetime. Do you know how many women are in your life? What does that mean? Does that mean that your own sister has been raped and has not told you? Does that mean that your daughter might be one day? How about your son? It is terrifying to think that we or someone we love may be raped. But that is an extremely dangerous trap. What that idea does is it perpetuates rape culture. It makes us say, “What is it about this that protects me from being raped?” You know the whole, “I wouldn’t have done X, Y, Z…” It’s that that hurts survivors and creates a world where Brock Turners think it’s ok to rape, that dads think it’s only “20 minutes of action” , and Judge Perskys decide to give ridiculously slim sentences. It’s a world where people like Turner’s friend issue statements like this— “But where do we draw the line and stop worrying about being politically correct every second of every day and see that rape on campus isn’t always because people are rapists.” (Fact: Rape is ALWAYS only because people are rapists, Leslie Rasmussen).
As a survivor and someone who works in this field, I am thrilled to see buzz about this case. It shows that this survivor’s voice is heard. It shows that there is a lot of anger about rape. What worries me is that in a matter of days, weeks if we’re lucky, this story will be buried among the thousands and thousands and thousands of survivor stories out there. Social media will be hushed, and the ones left standing will be survivors, survivors who were thrust into a world where this is their plight, this is their life now, and their fight. What I implore is that every single person who has shared in the anger and rage over this case continues to fight to change rape culture. Start by committing to continue to learn more about the realities of sexual violence. (This for starters.) Find a fierce bunch of humans who want to change the system to make it more viable for survivors and supportive and less devastating. (Find your local crisis center here or reach out to Voices, Inc. at voicesincmedia@ gmail.com). Find ways to fight rape culture and share them widely. Keep this conversation going every single day.
Rape will never go away completely. But if we commit to doing everything possible to reduce rape culture, we are well on our way to a safer and more supportive society. Believe the statistics that rape happens to 1/4 of women (1 in 6 men too). Don’t be scared by it. Just believe it and get enraged and do something about it.
I believe in a world where people believe every survivor and support system-wide change. I know that there are steps we can all take to reduce the impact of trauma on survivors, and create a world where rape is ALWAYS this terrible. I’ve made this my life’s work, and show up every single day, heart open, ready to make a difference for survivors. While it does not have to be your whole life, I plead that you do what is possible in your power to keep this conversation going. It is the very least we can do for this fiercely strong survivor and every other survivor whose story goes untold.
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