I've been sitting on this blog for a while and I've convinced myself more times than not that I shouldn't do it. Though those who know me know I have a lot to say, and I'm not often apologetic about that fact, there is something strangely intimidating about writing it down and putting it out there. It's very exposing. But the accounts shared by CC Carreras about her experience with a sexual assault case at the University of Richmond (first here and then here) have pushed me over the edge. I believe that to be silent is to be complicit with those in power, with the dominant narrative, and often leaves those who are speaking up left out to dry. I can't do it any more so here it goes.
Every time I come across a story like CC's, one in which an institution, most often a college or university, fails to appropriately and adequately address issues of sexual, romantic or interpersonal violence, it breaks my heart and makes me incredibly angry. When I read CC's story, I was devastated and honestly speechless (a rare occurrence for me); not because I couldn't believe it, but sadly because I could. Though every story like this is atrocious and infuriating, CC's experience transported me back to my own experience in undergrad. I loved the University of Richmond and I left with some of the closest friends I'm likely to ever make and some of my best and favorite memories. That doesn't mean it was a perfect experience. The general disdain for women and the silent but powerful rape culture on campus was palpable and prolific. I have too many memories of women I love, cherish and respect (including myself) crying because something happened that they did not want or consent to and they didn't know what to do. I remember feeling powerless because I didn't know what to do either. I remember being told, after one particularly horrific instance, that if I continued to talk about it in a way that negatively depicted the perpetrators, I wouldn't be allowed into frat parties. I'm embarrassed to say that, at the time, that was enough to pressure me into silence, not so much because of the party thing, but more because I wanted to protect my friends and didn't want to put everyone's social lives - something that was fairly fragile at a school as small as Richmond - in jeopardy. It sounds trivial now but it demonstrates to me how easy it can be to pressure someone into silence, particularly when that person is already dealing with shame, guilt, and embarrassment. I knew that the social and cultural aspects of Richmond were riddled with sexist, as well as racist, classist, ableist and heteronormative, messages and it angers me to no end to see that this culture extends to the University's leadership.
I can say firsthand that the messages received from experiences like college, or any institution that emphasizes both formal education and social learning, stick with a person. It has taken me a long time unpack some of the residual shit left behind from my college experience and I believe it is the responsibility of a university to support, advocate for and honor the safety and well-being of it's students. I know that doing so is complicated, complex and that there is always more than one side to every story and experience. However, if a student like CC feels as victimized, unheard, unseen and disrespected as she states, something is seriously and dangerously amiss. As I wrote in a letter to the school's administration, "by neglecting to honor Ms. Carreras' narrative, and dismissing her experience on account of a male's need to 'finish,' you are teaching your students important lessons that will stay with them forever; lessons about the meaning of consent, the value of their bodies and the societal discrepancies between both men and women and those of perceived value versus those without. I'm sad to say that the lessons you are teaching, and the messages you are reinforcing, are dangerous, pervasive and harmful."
Ultimately, the point I want to make is that the University, though in a unique position to address and confront these message head-on in a way that directly impacts the lives of those involved, is not the only one sending these signals. The way we as a society talk about, or don't talk about, sexual assault, rape, consent and issues around autonomy over one's body, specifically women's bodies in this case, is important. It's not a coincidence that Brock Turner blamed alcohol and Stanford's party culture on his actions. He likely believed that was at fault because that is what he had been told and shown. I know firsthand, as do many people who went through the stereotypical college experience, that alcohol can and does influence actions and we may make decisions under the influence that we would not make otherwise . But there's a big difference between eating an extra-large pizza by myself and sexually assaulting an unconscious woman behind a dumpster. Some of that bad decision might be related to alcohol consumption, but the root of it, the part of the brain that indicates that it's ever ok, is most certainly and decidedly not. We live in a society (US to be specific) where people are taught that "no means no" but are not taught that silence does not equal consent, where women who report sexual assualts often still have answer, in explicit detail, questions about what they were wearing and prove they were not "asking for it," and where perpetrators of violence truly believe they are not at fault because they are told time and again that they are more valuable than the survivors of their actions and that what they do, say and think is excusable for a variety of reason. I've been saying for a long time now that it is time to change the dialogue, though even I couldn't get myself to speak up outside of my intimate social circle. Though it is scary to share my views in this manner, I can confidently say, I don't give a shit about going to your frat party and I won't be quiet anymore.
In closing, I'd like to say a final thank you to the University of Richmond for providing me with the education and the language to excoriate you on the internet and via email. So thanks for that.
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