From the chapbook "Circles" by Bernadine Fox
In the early 70s, one day in my high school, a teenage girl announced out-of-the-blue that a group of guys had forced her to have sex. The rest of us were thirteen- or fourteen-years old. Rape was not discussed in our little part of the prairies. She described how they manipulated her with booze and then took advantage of her. None of us said a word.
In retrospect, our reaction is shocking. At the time, it felt as if she had given out too much information that wasn’t meant for our ears. I don’t recall the details. I do remember that it was clearly not her choice and my reaction: I did not see her as a victim. I compartmentalized diametrically-opposing information: victim & easy. I viewed her rape not as something done to her but something sensational she was involved in: sex with group of boys. More importantly, she was no longer just another teenage girl in school. She was now “other.” I never saw her the same way again but defined her (like many uninformed do) by what was done to her: sexually available. This is important: As an uneducated 13-year old, I stopped seeing her as my fellow classmate. She was now defined by what had been done to her.
I did not ask her who had done this. I did not ask her if she had told someone or if she needed help. Until this very moment, 44 years later, I never spoke of it to anyone. I am writing about it now because it is these unspoken questions and judgements that continue to reside at the heart of stigma inflicted on victims of violence. They face it not just by the court system, or the police, or the community (friends and family) but by each of us. As our lives are touched by the violence of others, we become witnesses to trauma and actions of inhumanity. We scramble for coping methods that will keep our world in control. It is a self-preservative act that can have long reaching consequences on a broader scale.
Even though we want to believe our society has evolved from those harmful 70s attitudes, they lurk in the corners of our contemporary social constructs and leak out at inconvenient times. Anyone working in the field of violence against women knows that victims who choose to disclose must brace themselves for a hostile judicial system and be ready to be disbelieved. They know that their offender will most likely claim, “S/he is lying. S/he wanted it. S/he is upset I rejected him/her.” Before court they are mentally-prepared to be slammed, interrogated, and made to feel incompetent around telling the difference between a person and their rapist and/or between wanting sex and being violated. They are warned that family and friends may find their reports difficult to accept and they may lose them. However, if a survivor is lucky, one of the many publicly-funded advocates for the sexual assault victim will be there to assist her/him through the rough spots. These organizations will be objective around fault along with the reality of victim-blaming and can help create bridges with family and friends. They will believe the survivor’s account.
In retrospect, our reaction is shocking. At the time, it felt as if she had given out too much information that wasn’t meant for our ears. I don’t recall the details. I do remember that it was clearly not her choice and my reaction: I did not see her as a victim. I compartmentalized diametrically-opposing information: victim & easy. I viewed her rape not as something done to her but something sensational she was involved in: sex with group of boys. More importantly, she was no longer just another teenage girl in school. She was now “other.” I never saw her the same way again but defined her (like many uninformed do) by what was done to her: sexually available. This is important: As an uneducated 13-year old, I stopped seeing her as my fellow classmate. She was now defined by what had been done to her.
I did not ask her who had done this. I did not ask her if she had told someone or if she needed help. Until this very moment, 44 years later, I never spoke of it to anyone. I am writing about it now because it is these unspoken questions and judgements that continue to reside at the heart of stigma inflicted on victims of violence. They face it not just by the court system, or the police, or the community (friends and family) but by each of us. As our lives are touched by the violence of others, we become witnesses to trauma and actions of inhumanity. We scramble for coping methods that will keep our world in control. It is a self-preservative act that can have long reaching consequences on a broader scale.
Even though we want to believe our society has evolved from those harmful 70s attitudes, they lurk in the corners of our contemporary social constructs and leak out at inconvenient times. Anyone working in the field of violence against women knows that victims who choose to disclose must brace themselves for a hostile judicial system and be ready to be disbelieved. They know that their offender will most likely claim, “S/he is lying. S/he wanted it. S/he is upset I rejected him/her.” Before court they are mentally-prepared to be slammed, interrogated, and made to feel incompetent around telling the difference between a person and their rapist and/or between wanting sex and being violated. They are warned that family and friends may find their reports difficult to accept and they may lose them. However, if a survivor is lucky, one of the many publicly-funded advocates for the sexual assault victim will be there to assist her/him through the rough spots. These organizations will be objective around fault along with the reality of victim-blaming and can help create bridges with family and friends. They will believe the survivor’s account.
"Regina" contour drawing by Bernadine Fox
If the survivor is unlucky those who should don't believe them and they are abandoned in silence. They end up struggling with feeling as if they are crazy. They literally debate if they were mistaken about what happened and begin to mistrust their perceptions of reality. They feel as if the violence they endured is sanctioned by the very organizations meant to help them and, more importantly, they are silenced. Ultimately, the message is clear: It was OK that people hurt them.
This type of abandonment is most common when the offender has a powerful position within the community. Think of just how many reports regarding Jerry Sandusky (Penn State Coach) were given to authorities, starting in 1994, without consequence. His employees, prior victims, and the sports industry itself acted to shield him from discovery. He started The Second Mile initially as a group foster home and then as an organization to assist young boys where he harvested victims whom he showered with gifts and privileges. He was a celebrated coach. The exposure of his crimes against children was celebrated by the women's community fighting gender-based sexual violence.
In fact, the type of sex offender who actually holds the most power to hide and obfuscate allegations of sexual assault is a female, feminist therapist known for working in the field of child sexual abuse. That perpetrator can operate with impunity protected by disbelief in the very community of advocates who should be supporting her victims. It is a community that minimizes the overall rate and problem of female perpetrators. Educated as an authority around mental health issues, the female therapist/rapist can proffer “expert” explanations as compared to the average rapist, “S/he (really) is crazy/borderline/paranoid.” The survivor of therapist abuse, especially a female feminist one, faces stigma that is exponentially worse because it often comes from the very people they should be able to explicitly rely on: those who say survivors should be believed but who, in this scenario, find their assumptions and positions about gender-based violence threatened when the perpetrator doesn't fit their generally-agreed-upon model.
This type of abandonment is most common when the offender has a powerful position within the community. Think of just how many reports regarding Jerry Sandusky (Penn State Coach) were given to authorities, starting in 1994, without consequence. His employees, prior victims, and the sports industry itself acted to shield him from discovery. He started The Second Mile initially as a group foster home and then as an organization to assist young boys where he harvested victims whom he showered with gifts and privileges. He was a celebrated coach. The exposure of his crimes against children was celebrated by the women's community fighting gender-based sexual violence.
In fact, the type of sex offender who actually holds the most power to hide and obfuscate allegations of sexual assault is a female, feminist therapist known for working in the field of child sexual abuse. That perpetrator can operate with impunity protected by disbelief in the very community of advocates who should be supporting her victims. It is a community that minimizes the overall rate and problem of female perpetrators. Educated as an authority around mental health issues, the female therapist/rapist can proffer “expert” explanations as compared to the average rapist, “S/he (really) is crazy/borderline/paranoid.” The survivor of therapist abuse, especially a female feminist one, faces stigma that is exponentially worse because it often comes from the very people they should be able to explicitly rely on: those who say survivors should be believed but who, in this scenario, find their assumptions and positions about gender-based violence threatened when the perpetrator doesn't fit their generally-agreed-upon model.
"She Hurt The Smallest Parts of Me" from Transgressions by Bernadine Fox
Their lack of support and silence takes us back to the concept that some people are sanctioned-victims. Our society constantly shifts in a determination (however, unconscious) of who it is ok to hurt. Black Lives Matter is a movement against people and police officers who for many decades acted on the belief that it was of no consequence to shoot and kill African Americans. Pickton proved that it was OK to torture and kill prostitutes in Vancouver. Sex offenders repeatedly demonstrate their skill at picking out the child that can be victimized. All of that mirrors much more common targets in our collective world: Drug Addicts, Smokers, the Obese, and the Bullied. Whether child or adult, bullies are surrounded by those who participate by observation alone. They do nothing to help the identified person who is usually bullied mercilessly: i.e., hurt that one. Like that teenager in my history, the label of victim or even survivor means one has been defined by the violence done by someone else: by default they are now identified as someone that can be hurt. Think about that: someone that can be hurt.
The stigma that we most often recognize, as survivors and advocates, we can also talk about – point at – name it and have company coping with it. But what if no one is pointing? What if no labels are being developed? And, what if those who should be there are walking away? That young teenager in the 70s should have been able to rely on her fellow, female friends to understand her trauma. Survivors of female perpetrators or of exploitive therapists should be able to rely on the women’s organizations that support every other survivor through their trauma. Instead, they are faced with walls built by stigma that expose the places rape culture has disregarded, where victim-blaming rears its ugly head in sexual assault centers, where violence is reframed as an allegation and the victim is labelled mistaken, crazy, or paranoid, and where the #IBelieveSurvivors mantra suddenly falls silent.
It is time to point at and name this stigma.
The stigma that we most often recognize, as survivors and advocates, we can also talk about – point at – name it and have company coping with it. But what if no one is pointing? What if no labels are being developed? And, what if those who should be there are walking away? That young teenager in the 70s should have been able to rely on her fellow, female friends to understand her trauma. Survivors of female perpetrators or of exploitive therapists should be able to rely on the women’s organizations that support every other survivor through their trauma. Instead, they are faced with walls built by stigma that expose the places rape culture has disregarded, where victim-blaming rears its ugly head in sexual assault centers, where violence is reframed as an allegation and the victim is labelled mistaken, crazy, or paranoid, and where the #IBelieveSurvivors mantra suddenly falls silent.
It is time to point at and name this stigma.
RSS Feed