Dear Brock Turner: Here is How “20 Minutes” Changes Someone.
Brock Turner (Or should I say, most hated person on the planet right now):
You did not just “digitally finger” and mildly “penetrate” a drunk girl on January 18th, 2015. It doesn’t matter that she was unconscious and it doesn’t matter that it was 20 minutes instead of 3 hours. It doesn’t matter that you didn’t hold her captive and it doesn’t matter that her wounds seemed “superficial.” Do not put yourself above every other rapist on this planet. That is what you are. Her statement to the court proves what we already knew: You were violent.
“Emily Doe” will never be the same again. (I will not call her “your victim” because she is, and never was, yours.) The woman from January 17th, 2015? She’s dead. And you have only yourself to thank for that.
You already know this, but she probably walks differently, speaks differently, thinks differently, sleeps differently, and loves differently. Because of your selfish actions.
Being raped irrevocably changed her. Right now she is probably speaking in terms of “before” and “after.” Before and after IT happened. Before and after YOU happened.
“BEFORE it happened I was okay with my body.”
“BEFORE it happened, I was happy.”
“AFTER it happened, I became terrified to be alone at night”
“I only began to be isolate myself AFTER it happened.”
The truth is that the events that took place that night suddenly and violently severed her life into two. She has led two separate lives, experienced by two separate people. Ruptured by an event that lasted about 20 minutes. Broken by one act of force, she is Emily Doe “before” and Emily Doe “after.” And she didn’t ask for any of that.
She will no doubt, struggle with some aspects of her day to day life, for a long time.
It could be physical intimacy. Once a stranger has penetrated you without your consent, its hard to let other men be inside you. I don’t think that is a concept beyond your understanding.
Maybe she starts to keep everyone she knows and loves at arm’s length. Once someone betrays your trust and violates you in the most intimate way, its hard to trust other people again. I don’t think that is a concept beyond your understanding, either.
Maybe she stops interacting with her outside world, because her current world is filled with trauma and pain. Maybe it doesn’t matter to her because no matter how eloquently she speaks or writes about being raped (and she’s done a damn good job so far), no one else will understand what it was like to be violated by you. Her mother, therapist, best friend, sister, and even all of America: they can nod, empathize, and hug her; they can cry with her, hate the shit out of you, and try to make your life hell (because you deserve it), but at the end of the day, that is not enough. Because it will not change what happened. She endured that experience alone. Young, terrified, and alone. Which doesn’t even begin to describe the word unfair.
I’m sure you have a “before” and “after” story too, but unfortunately nobody wants to hear it.
“Before I raped her, I was a great swimmer.”
“Before I raped her, people liked me.”
“After I raped her, I hated steak.”
“After I raped her, I couldn’t go out in public anymore.”
Yeah, well, no one gives a shit. I hope you understand that by now. Her story is the only one that matters.
I leave you with this piece, in order to describe the horror of what “only 20 minutes” can do to someone. The way she experienced those 20 minutes is far more important than the way you did.
I Used to Be
I used to be brave
“Fearless,” Mother called it
Needing no one to teach me
Because I could do it on my own
It was endearing when I was young
Because my obstacles, though fairly small
Felt like big obstacles to me
I used to be uninhibited
Giggling in awkward ways
Running freely where I went
Stopping only when I lost my breath
Spinning until I got dizzy enough
And falling down in gasps of laughter
I used to be curious
About life and love and the future
Finding joy in simple things
And soaking up every ounce of experience
That this big world had to offer
I used to be nervous
In an innocent way,
Wondering if my hair looked okay
What my friends thought of me
And if my grades were good enough
Seeking approval from Mom and Dad
And always wanting to do my best
I used to be unknowing
Not without experimentation
Nonetheless, feeling pure
Pretending to be wiser
I could fool people into thinking
That inside I wasn’t still a little girl
I used to be big
Like I knew I was allowed
to take up space in this world
Talking loud and laughing hard
I rightfully took my place
As another spirit on this Earth
And I knew in my heart
That one day maybe
I could belong
I used to be whole
Some cracking and bruising apparent
Adolescence does that
And yet every piece of me
Still relatively intact
Up until
That one spring day
And then you came
A devil dressed in blue
Whispering sweet nothings
And promises you couldn’t keep
Swallowing my being and
Spitting out pieces you didn’t need
Disguised as a safety net
A place to go when it’s cold
Mocking my stupidity
With every lie you told
like an auctioneer, within minutes
I was sold
Like a guide dog you lead me
To the last place I felt alive
And.
Then.
I’m.
Suffocated
Crushed beneath the weight
Of a thousand words never spoken
Of a thousand no’s never screamed
You break my soul and body
And with every muscle you move
I stay silent
Every moment that passes
You are closer to sealing my fate
Your ecstasy, my demise
Every moan of pleasure
A trowel to my flesh
Digging and jabbing
Pounding and stabbing
Hollowing out a home
For evil to rest forever
Long after this excavation has finished
My tarnished skin
Dirtied
Infected and defiled
Purity now polluted
My youth permanently soiled
Forever ruined and
Contaminated always
And you leave my carcass to rot
Like an animal in the wild
The vultures downstairs await
To feed on the spoils
Unaware that a murder most foul
Occurred above them while they played
The forced reporting
A violation unto itself
With every word you speak
of what action I must take
You are raping me just like he did
All over again.
I used to be brave
But now I pretend
Because everyone is watching
And the spotlight is boiling my blood
The sweat above my brow apparent
And the show must go on.
I used to be uninhibited
But now I am chained
To a dirty bedroom at a party house
A cemetery of sorts
Visiting in my mind
To pay respects to the girl who once was free
Every movement now, calculated
I don’t laugh loud anymore
I used to be curious
About love and life and the future
Hungry for information and
longing to grow up
Now, I am apathetic
Aimlessly dragging myself from place to place
My imagination shut down
Because my mind is now an enemy
And my daydreams become nightmares
And my imagination doesn’t take me
farther than that bedroom door
I used to be nervous
In an innocent way
But now fear
Encompasses my being
And I worry
About safety versus logic
About diseases versus cleanliness
About police and crime
About survival and sanity
The obsessions swirling through my mind
Destroying anything in its path
Breaking my shoulders
Like an unshakable albatross
The fear
Wraps around my larynx like a boa constrictor
Ready to feed on its next kill
And I can’t breathe again
I used to be unknowing
Naïve about certain things
That experimenting could not replace
But now, I understand
For I know all that there is to know
About human nature and “love”
About men and trauma
About suffering and pain
About grief and death
About disgust and rage
Not things a young girl should know
I am all too acquainted
and will soon grow comfortable
And this agony
will become all I know
I used to be big
Unafraid to take up space in this world
Declaring the world mine to conquer
And explore as I pleased
Now, I am small
Closed off to the world
Averting stares and
dodging conversations
Shrinking my body as though
I may one day disappear with the wind
As insignificant as the dirt
we walk upon each day
Smashed and impacted with each step
Until there’s nothing left
But solid, cold, hard ground
I used to be whole
But now I am broken
Pieces of me scattered
Across that dirty bedroom
Others struggling to find their place
Their jagged edges smashed
together in a last ditch effort
To keep me alive and intact
Like a broken child’s toy
Handled too rough
And the evidence
Too hard to conceal
I used to be young
Still finding my way
In this thing we call life
But now, I am old
My body knowing this pain
Aged by brutality
And knowing exactly where I belong
Creases form above my brow
and where my smile should be
Fear encompasses my being
down to my muscles, joints, and bones
Making it hard to move about
Freely and carelessly, and not stiff
As I do now
And now time has passed
10 years to be exact
A life of institutions and hospitalizations
Of addictions and attempts
To leave this world and be free
Knowing control of petty things
Because you took it from me that night
And I’ve filled these years
with distractions from your crime
Feeling as though I’ve lived a thousand lifetimes
And yet still am a young girl inside
Wishing different outcomes
and wasting time thinking what could’ve been
I take great pleasure
In having a man who treats me well
But what he doesn’t know
Is that he knows you all his own
The devil inside my soul
He takes us to bed together
Because, you never leave
You made your mark back then
That I was yours to own
My scars, a sort of branding
A warning to those who come near
And on those nights he touches me
Wanting solely to be with me
I can’t help but think back and remember
Of how I used to be.
National Sexual Assault Telephone Hotline: 800.656.HOPE (4673).
They give free & confidential support for people in need.
