Assault: Where Personal Meets Political

TRIGGER WARNING!!!!!!! If you cannot handle content that deals with sexual harassment, sexual assault, or rape (yes, their is a difference between the last two), do not read this. Also, Mom and Dad, if you are reading this, you may not want to as, yes, this is a personal account.

OK, warning aside. Now for the reason. Tonight, on campus, they are holding the annual Take Back the Night event, a night to raise awareness about sexual assault, domestic violence and rape through A) noisemaking and a march through campus and B) sharing of testimonies. It's a very powerful event and one I've had the honor of taking part in. I would be there tonight, if it weren't for a term paper plus a couple computer codes.

I have always been passionate about these issues but it was not simply because I want to make the world better. The reason I am passionate is because these issues have actually touched me, literally and otherwise. While, thankfully, I have not been raped, I have escaped multiple times on pure dumb luck alone. At the same time, incidents do leave wounds. These wounds have, for the most part, healed, but they have left some scars.

When I was a little girl, I was bullied quite a bit. I had some bad habits, big teeth, a skinny, small body, and a sensitive personality. I didn't have a lot of friends and, for a long time, HATED going to school. Most of it was verbal until middle school. Then, in gym class, I noticed it became physical and sexual. I remember being slapped multiple times on the back in one gym class by a boy I liked, grabbed in the chest during games of tag (I developed early and it happened multiple times), called names like "bitch", and was made fun of when I asked a question during a sexual harassment presentation, simply because I was trying to figure out whether I should tell someone.

Later, knowing how innocent I was, kids would draw dirty pictures and show them to me, to see if I knew what it was and ask me detailed questions about what I knew about sex or if I was a virgin or a lesbian. My freshman year of high school, a guy who was much older pursued me quite a bit, to the point of being annoying, and tried to solicit oral sex from me (I didn't even know the terminology used until I looked it up and was horrified). My teacher told higher authorities, who called me into the office. I told the truth, was promised it would stay confidential, only to have my name leaked to the kid who was doing this to me. Luckily, there was no retaliation, but I was scarred by the whole experience. To this day, that was probably the greatest betrayal of my life.

When I was sixteen, I had a lot of friends but still kept to myself quite a bit. I didn't feel I had people to really talk to. One day, I was hanging out by myself (I stayed after school for a club meeting and was waiting for my mom to pick me up) when an older guy asked if I'd show him a classroom, because he was looking for a job. After school hours? I should have known better but, being the naive, overly nice girl I was at the time, showed him around. Well, that was NOT his intention at all. I got scared. Luckily, when I did, he didn't try anything physical and simply left me. Later, when my mom picked me up and gave me a lecture of not staying too long when I don't have anything else to do, it hit me how horribly lucky I was. That one kept me silent for years.

That wasn't the scariest. The scariest was when I went to a bar. I needed to use the ladies' room. When I left the ladies' room, I found myself pulled into the mens' room with my hands pressed against the wall and a lecherous grin in my face. I screamed and shouted as many obscenities as I could. Thankfully, another guy heard and pulled the dude off of me, while pushing me out of the mens' room. I didn't let myself react after that (and admittedly was quite cavalier about it) because I remembered all my friends and loved ones who were raped and reminded myself it could have been worse.

None of these happened when I was drunk (even at the bar, I had one beer). None of these happened due to what I was wearing (and I mean, come on. I was eleven or twelve when some of it started). None of these happened because I had sex before or was a sex worker. None of these happened because I started to have sex and then changed my mind. And, even if any and all of those were true, it SHOULDN'T MATTER! You don't refuse to prosecute a burglar because the owner left their house unlocked. Let me tell you something: people break into houses with locked doors and people rape women when they do everything to be safe (and sometimes, break into aforementioned house to do so, or they live in the same house because their an abusive spouse or family member). We need to start treating rape and assault like crimes, not gossip, not jokes.

I am OK. I am horrendously lucky that none of these turned into a situation that could have had drastic consequences both physically and psychologically. However, they did leave scars. Even today, I have a hard time trusting men I don't know very well, especially if I can't read their intentions. Anytime people mention "sexual assault", my back is already against the wall. And, if someone jokes about rape, it's all I can do to NOT introduce them to God in person. I'm lucky I haven't been raped. I know this. I'm lucky I have a kind, respectful, gentle partner who would die before he dreamed of hurting me and a posse of people who would probably kill anyone who tried. At the same time, all these incidents have changed me.

Assault is not OK. Harassment is not OK. Rape is not OK and hitting people (unless they're striking you or someone else) is not OK. Rape isn't a joke you can wear on a T-shirt . It's one of the greatest acts of betrayal because you no longer feel safe in your body. It is one of the worst forms of dehumanization and is sadly one of those crimes that often goes unpunished. While we must work to create a peaceful society and foster an attitude of forgiveness, none of this comes without justice. Justice does not come until we see each other as equal human beings, endowed with dignity by our Creator. Let's fight for this for everyone. Thousands of years of human history have been long enough.

"Sweetie, You're So Young!" Bite Me............

If I never have to hear the quoted part of my post title again, I will be a very happy woman. It seems that, because I'm on the precipice of graduation, everyone feels the need to give me advice. Some of it is genuinely helpful. Others is unwanted, unnecessary and downright condescending. I understand that I'm young and I have my whole life ahead of me. At the same time, I am a woman with agency, legal standing, and experience and I don't want that discounted.

By bare bones legal definitions, I am an adult. I am over eighteen, so I am considered responsible enough to carry a gun, vote, get married, sign a lease, have consensual sex, pay taxes, be employed full time, sign my own waivers and serve in either the Armed Forces or the Peace Corps. I am over twenty-one, so I am also considered responsible enough to drink alcohol, gamble, and carry a credit card. This is only the legal aspect. I am also an adult by experience.

How am I an adult by experience? I made the choice to go to school far from home. During the time I've been in college, I have held down a job (working nearly full time hours), paid my own bills, paid taxes, traveled by myself both domestically and internationally, lived overseas, made professional networks and gathered experience, and have signed my own leases (without a guarantor). I've escaped potentially dangerous situations in the nick of time, made mistakes, developed relationships and made my own decisions. Even with my more spontaneous decisions, I've managed to make ones that worked for me and learn from the ones I didn't. While I may not be fully developed as a person (who among us is?), I can say I know myself pretty well and I go after what I want.

So, no, I don't want to hear some condescending comment about how young I am and how I still either don't know anything or should not be taken seriously. At this point, age isn't more than a number and I've seen people twice my age act much younger than their years (for better or for worse). I may be young but I am strong and I need to learn for myself. I may fall but I won't break until it's time for me to die. Advice is good but I'm not a five-year-old. I'm an adult who can decide her own future. Please talk to me accordingly.

Playing with Possibilities

I graduate in just over a month. Pause while I freak out.

OK, freak out over.

I know what I'm doing this fall. I'll be volunteering with Americorps in a program called City Year, one that focuses on tutoring and mentoring children in under-served areas. My placement is in Little Rock, Arkansas and I'm both excited and nervous. I'll be in DC till July, so that I can earn extra cash (to put down my security deposit and first month's rent) and have my last hurrah. It runs from August till June, so we'll see what happens. I realized how much I loved working with children and young people when I was in Kenya, so this seems like a perfect fit.

It's funny because it just hit me how much life I have ahead of me. It's not like turning eighteen, when you're considered an adult in the loose sense of the term but you don't really feel like one yet. At almost 22, however, it feels real. In the last four years, I've held down a job, completed two internships, lived in Kenya, paid my own rent, made a ton of mistakes, networked, questioned my faith, fell in love, and made amazing, lifelong friends. Now, I see a variety of dreams, opportunities, and possibilities.

I almost wonder, what will happen after City Year? I do hope to go back to DC, maybe work a few years. I kind of wonder. Will I go abroad for an extended period? Get my Master's? In what? Theology, Economics, or International Relations? Go for a Ph.d? Where will I work? Will I move back to DC? To NYC? Will I be a policy wonk? A teacher? A youth minister?

It's not fear anymore. I'm genuinely excited to see how my life will turn out. I know now that it's my choice at this point. It kind of reminds me of that quote on Braveheart, "Your heart is free. Have the courage to follow it." I hope I always remember to have that courage.

"But I'm an Adult!"

Many of my friends have been negatively affected by the economy and, as such, had to move in with their parents for a brief period (luckily, most of them are now out and on their own). One thing they always complained about was not being able to stay out late or bringing dates home. I said, "Well, it's their house." "But we're adults!" a friend responded.

Yes, moving back in with your parents after you've gone away to school-especially if you paid for your own apartment or studied abroad-sucks. You don't want them to see you as the kid they've known for eighteen years. You want to be treated with respect and seen as more of a friend or at least have them play more of a mentor role in your life. You're doing it because you have to, not because you necessarily want to, because you need a place while you look for jobs and save money to move out. You still want to be able to live the life you've been living for the last four years.

At the same time, I can understand the parents' point of view. They're not always trying to treat you like a kid. Rather, the whole staying out late/bringing people home may be more of a courtesy thing. If your parents have to be up early to go to work or are light sleepers, they may not want to hear someone rolling in at 2 AM. Bringing dates home may fly in the face of their morals (which they have a right to enforce in their own house) or may make them feel vulnerable (you're bringing home someone they don't know, who may steal their stuff for all they know). They may expect help with the chores or minor rent payments, as a sign of responsibility.

Neither side is perfect and that aspect of transition is a tough time. Don't make it harder by demanding your own way in the face of their feelings. It's their house. After legal adulthood/paying for school, they may feel they're doing you a kindness by letting you come home for a brief period. If you go in with that understanding, you can make your stay a pleasant one.

HUNGER for Righteousness

I've been fasting. It's hard. It's hard to ignore that growl in my stomach, that intense craving for delicious food. It's hard to ignore my heightened sense of smell for all things delicious. It's hard to ignore the pain in my head that tells me this isn't right. It's hard to not pray for the sun to sleep so I can fulfill my craving.

It's funny because, in the New Testament, Jesus says, "Blessed are they who hunger and thirst for righteousness." Reading that on a normal day, I can appreciate the sentiments on a more shallow level. Now, though, I feel I can understand it a bit more.

"Blessed are those who HUNGER and thirst for righteousness." Hunger is painful! Yet righteousness and justice are sorely lacking on this planet. Everywhere in the world, people are starving, thirsting, for physical food and water while a small percentage makes millions off of their sweat. Everywhere in the world, fertile land is made barren by others' greed and we lose not only the Earth's beauty but its ability to feed the planet. Everywhere in the world, people put each other on the same level as the commodities they purchase. Yet, where is this intense hunger for change?

Our hunger for righteousness should be hard to ignore, like the growling in our stomachs. Our hunger for righteousness should be a warning sign that something isn't right, like a hunger headache. Our hunger for righteousness should give us a heightened sense of smell for injustice, like the heightened sense of smell for food. More importantly, our hunger for righteousness should give us a longing to make the world a better place.

Once you feel the pains of hunger, you have no choice but to act upon it. Let our hunger for justice be strong so that our work can make us full!

Fasting

For Lent, three of us girls plus my boyfriend all decided to try something. We decided to take the idea of fasting for Ramadan and apply it to Lent (one of my girl friends was raised by both a Catholic mother and Muslim father). We decided to wait till after the break (wanting to enjoy meals with families) so today is day one. I had done a Catholic fast for Ash Wednesday (one full meal, two lesser meals, plus water) and abstained from meat on Friday but I wanted to see what it would be like to go without food for thirteen hours. So, with a couple modifications (no fasting on Sundays, as they're feast days for Catholics, and no forgoing water, as I have had health issues), I started.

It doesn't feel too hard for the first couple of hours. I start feeling a bit hungry, but it's easy to ignore. I feel a bit slower but in a good way. I feel I can take moments at a leisurely pace and I feel peaceful, spiritual. I realize that I don't need to constantly be snacking on something. I tend to eat a lot, many times out of sheer boredom, the need to have something in my hands, or because there's a lot of food and I don't want to waste it. At the same time, I feel this inability to master my appetite. Part of it comes from always being told I was too skinny and feeling the need to prove that I'm not an anorexic (that stuff stays with you when you're a little kid). Another part is I just love food. So this kind of freedom has proven I can master my desires.

After awhile, it hurts. It's hard to concentrate. My stomach gnaws at me. Everything feels tedious and time feels like it takes forever. I want nothing more than for the sun to go down right now. I said a rosary and it felt boring to me. It bugs me that I have to wait about three hours from now before I can break fast. On top of it, I really have to focus on homework. At the same time, I don't want people to see grouchy, hungry Katie. I want them to see a happy Katie, one who genuinely is trying to become a better person.

That's when I realized that this is the point. The whole point of fasting is that it's painful and challenging. The challenge is, are you going to master your hunger? Or, will you let it master you instead? Will you give in to the temptation to snack? Or will you hold out just a bit longer, saying a prayer for strength and focusing your mind on other things?

People may think I'm crazy for doing something that seems so extreme, even in the eyes of other devout, practicing Catholics I know. On the other hand, is it really that crazy? We live in a society where people are slaves to their desires. People overeat, drink too much, have promiscuous sex, consume houses, cars, shoes and other things they can't even afford, and they forget about other people. We don't even know whether the people who make our products earn a living wage, the people we sleep with are looking for something deeper, or whether the food we eat is even beneficial to our bodies. And the thing is, we don't even care. It's all about us.

To me, it's especially poignant because my career goals all have to do with ending poverty and fighting for human rights. How can I fight for justice and work to end those things that enslave others when I can't even free myself? How can I work for change in this world when I can't even change myself.

Fasting does not automatically make you a better person. Rather, it's the attitude that brings it out. If you can beat the obstacles of fasting, you can fight other urges that are much more destructive. If you can take it as a time to slow down and clear your mind of all that isn't necessary at that moment, you will be able to think clearly when it counts, when you are already nourished. If you can take it as a time to be grateful for food, especially when so many of the world go hungry, you'll be more sympathetic to the plight of those who have little.

Fasting is not fun. It's not sexy. It's not that glorious. Yet I find it to be a necessary ingredient to our humanity. Even if you cannot fast from food, you can fast from something else (Facebook, chocolate, sex, etc). It's hard to resist temptations. At the same time, becoming masters of those temptations is how we become better people.

What would it look like if everyone fasted for one day? What would it look like if we not only fasted from material things, but also fasted from our negative actions? What would humanity look like if we did that?

Venting

I talk a lot. Women, when we're together, will DEFINITELY talk a lot. We'll talk about all kinds of things but one thing I notice we talk about is our relationships. Our friendships, our romantic companions/spouses, kids (if applicable), our work relationships, we discuss everything. It IS good in a sense, to be able to talk about our lives and share ideas about how to surprise loved ones and how to navigate difficult relationships. However, one positive act of this can become quite negative. Ladies and gentlemen, let's talk about venting.

Venting should be a healthy way to expel negative emotions. We need to be able to talk about bad things in our lives so that we don't turn everything inward and become self-destructive. We need to have close friends, people we trust, to be able to do it. However, I've noticed, with myself and with others, that our venting can become destructive. With our words, we have the power to tear someone down and completely vilify them in a way that does not suit their offense. I'm not talking about domestic violence issues (btw, if that applies to you, PLEASE tell). I'm talking about how someone you care about does something that pisses you off and, even before you bring it up with them, you tell all your friends. Naturally, knowing you and having loyalties, your friends will take your side. Then, you end up patching things up with the person but your friends have this picture of him or her as the bad guy.

How we think of people influences how we treat them. Supposing your friend or partner is not a bad person but, like we all do, just pissed you off in one instant, it isn't fair to him or her to have people they may not even know judging them harshly simply because you didn't feel the need to tell THEM you had a problem with them before you told all your friends. In my faith, under the sin of lying, we also consider it a sin to disclose the faults of others without grave reason (such as an abusive situation). Also, if these are the people we love, why are we tearing them down behind their backs? Isn't love about building other people up, for better or for worse?

I say this because I've learned how destructive I can be with my own words. Physical wounds can heal without memories of pain. Words, however, can wound for life. The worst injuries we receive are the ones we cannot see. Let's use our words to bring about positive change and take some negative energy out of this world!