The Holes in our Parachutes
Contains spoilers of Kelly Yang’s Parachutes
Trigger warning: sexual assault and rape
I recently finished Kelly Yang’s Parachutes. I pre-ordered her book after seeing Facebook, Twitter, and Instagram posts telling her story: she bravely went through the process of formally charging her attacker with sexual assault at Harvard Law school, an institution that only victim-blamed her in the end and denied her any form of relief. In fact, the University even went after her by investigating her for “malicious prosecution.”
The process in reading Parachutes was extremely … familiar … for so many reasons. First, it reminded me of my own high school experience, which is reflected in the setting of Parachutes — two Asian high schoolers navigating education inequality, sexual assault and rape, racism, and the problems that arise with too much money and conversely, too little money.
I enjoyed the first half of the book immensely! Growing up, I had never read a Young Adult (YA) book that captured the Asian American experience. The closest I could relate was reading Amy Tan’s The Joy Luck Club, which showed the intergenerational gap between immigrant families in America. However, I wished in middle and high school I could have gotten my hands on more books that I could identify with as a second generation Asian American.
Yet, I know middle school-me wouldn’t have been ready to read about sexual assault and rape…especially when high school-me was sexually assaulted.
I didn’t tell anyone about this horrifying incident because my first reaction was to feel shame and disgust with my own body. I was on auto-pilot, acting out the days like nothing had happened to me. I didn’t know how to deal with the trauma — every time I passed by a public bathroom, I would break down or hide it, which I got good at. Eventually, all my internalized pain accumulated into self-sabotaging behaviors that consisted of the darkest chapter of my life. After all, every time I slipped on my running clothes, I would feel disgusted, and not akin to my own body. I felt like a failure, impure, and alone.
Then a separate horrifying incident occurred: my own high school administration accused a friend and I of cyberbullying for speaking out against corruption online, and demanded an immediate apology on our part. To further silence us — paralleling Harvard Law School’s efforts to accuse Kelly Yang of ‘malicious intent’ for speaking up about sexual assault — my high school administration took the next step: they hired a Private Investigator to investigate us on the basis/accusation of being “racist.”
In Parachutes, when Dani, one of the young women, posted on an anonymous forum about how her debate coach sexually assaulted her, her Headmistress printed out the post, showed Dani, and ripped the paper apart — going as so far to call Dani ungrateful and accusing her of attempting to tarnish the image of the high school. That scene reminded me of what my own high school administration did to me behind the closed doors in their offices.
At that moment in high school, along with the heightened amount of blame and guilt I felt, I had told myself that I was right for not speaking up about my sexual assault. I didn’t trust the administration to support me if they would go so far as to silence me on a different matter. They would want to quiet things, smooth things over, and not let the boat rock. It’s safer that way. At the sacrifice of those who have been wronged. I justified my own silence in fear of the oppression I expected.
The second reason reading Parachutes was nostalgic was because since my freshman year in high school, I haven’t been able to absorb myself into a book completely. I used to be able to lose myself in the world, and after reading, I would remain in my head, fantasizing different scenarios. At night, I would dream of the characters (mostly the villains) befriending me and allowing me to accompany me on their mission. Yet, for years, my nose hasn’t been able to remain tucked between pages without itching for my phone, wanting to take a nap, or eat the nearest snacks.
In middle school, my best friend was the librarian who would always sneak me snacks even though they weren’t allowed in the room. During lunch and in my spare time, I would read. I racked up one of the most AR (accelerated reading) points, which was a system that quizzed you on a book’s summary. The more quizzes you took, the more points you scored. Every day I would check a book out from the library and the next day, take a quiz, and repeat the same process. I remember when I didn’t take an AR quiz one day, the librarian turned towards me in shock, asking what was wrong. That day I felt so ashamed I checked out two books and took two AR quizzes the next day to make it up.
When reading Parachutes, I encountered the same excitement middle school-me did while reading a book. Every time Dani tutored her crush and their arms brushed, I felt shy and apprehensive. When Ming mentioned Florence, I let out a whoop and looked around in embarrassment. When Claire broke-up with Teddy and screamed with her girlfriends, “FUCK BOYS!” I felt as if that was my own post break-up experience — and it was invigorating.
On the other hand, there were times when I resonated in painful ways. When Claire’s dad kept talking during the dinner, not listening to her. When the school fired Ms. Jones. When Dani watched her entire debate turn on her. There was so much humanity in these characters.
One of the most heartbreaking moments in the book for me occurred when Claire realized that she and Dani have “been suffering silently on two sides of the same wall, drowning in separate puddles of the same shame” — each young womxn had been victimized, gas-lighted, and guilted but never knew of each other’s narratives despite living under the same house. While I thought I would feel empowered by two young women embracing each other after their differences, it hurt knowing they were bonding from their trauma. Too soon, too young, women are forced to uncomfortably grow into their own bodies, and this shared experience becomes a baseline to bond.
I was so frustrated when the high school administrative board voted in favor of Jay, Claire’s rapist, who described her as a cocktease and said she wanted it. That wasn’t the ending I wanted, but that is the reality. Claire couldn’t have said it better: “The ad board was not a path to justice. Rational, impartial adults did not believe in me. And tomorrow when I go to school, I’ll still have to see him [Jay].”
I felt her hopelessness. Why are survivors of rape and sexual assault forced to go through a system that will denounce their truths in the first place? By having a system in the first place, it implies that society does not believe survivors. It also places attention on the persecution of the predator (which rarely happens) instead of focusing on the long-term support for the victim’s emotional well-being. The court system focuses on punishment, instead of agency of both parties.
But I also felt hope. When Claire’s mother finally started thinking about leaving her husband, who had wronged her, I started crying tears of joy. Claire’s decision to seek justice through the ad board, even if the outcome was set against her from the beginning, still inspired others around her — and Claire was able to find inspiration from listening to Dani’s debate speech. Watching other women stand up for themselves is a huge chain effect that frees us.
I cried harder when Claire said, “I can never get my name completely away from rape, but maybe I can get it closer to, you know, justice.” I read that sentence over and over again, clinging onto every word.
And then I laughed when I read the next line of her friend’s reply: “Girl, justice is something Americans invented to sell movies.”
I do think there is justice in America, but it comes from the hearts who carry each other up. It happens in the moment when Dani’s speech inspired another womxn to speak out. It happens in the moment when Claire refuses Jay’s 2 million check to bribe her silence. It happens when people realize that not everyone can fall from the sky with a parachute, and that those who do have parachutes can easily have someone poke holes in them.
Educational inequality facilitates an environment of sexual assault and rape culture. You can’t talk about sexual violence without talking about the systemic factors that produces and justifies the oppression of victims and survivors.
Written by Riss Myung, an Asian American womxn mending her own parachute.
