![]() The burden I feel to make a difference is amplified with the knowledge that I am not alone that women and men around the world are owning their stories of trauma and pain and are standing up to say enough is enough. Paul's behind me, I realize that there is so much work to be done. My journey is far from over, but as I put the chapters of St. As more survivors speak up, institutions everywhere are being forced to respond. A teenage survivor of sexual assault shouldn't be responsible for holding a 162-year old institution accountable for its actions, or lack thereof. The power in this moment is the empowerment happening all around us. It rests squarely on the perpetrator and the institution that protected its rape culture for decades, and continues to do so. The “blame” for the crime itself is no way shared by me. Here I am, a survivor, almost four years after the crime, still shocked by the response and behavior of adults entrusted to care for and help shape students. Sexual assault isn't just an "event" that "happens" to someone it is a crime committed by a perpetrator. "This specific event was very unfortunate, and it's the kind of event that - whomever was to blame and however it happened - was a terrible thing for the people involved and a terrible thing for the school."Ī student slipping on an icy sidewalk is an "unfortunate event," Mr. Paul's School, spoke of my case in January to the Concord Monitor after we reached a settlement: Even today the words and actions of the school are painful energy and resources that could be invested in student safety and well-being are instead diverted toward preserving their reputation.Īrchibald Cox, Jr., president of the Board of Trustees at St. Paul's go to great lengths, and great depths, to protect their brand. ![]() There have been many surprises throughout my journey, not the least of which is the fact that schools such as St. Paul's move made me feel like I had no choice. I had been considering going public with my story to help other survivors, but I still had deep reservations. Paul's responded by threatening to expose my identity. I wanted to hold the school accountable and prevent other kids from getting hurt, so my family and I filed a lawsuit. I stopped calling myself a victim and began calling myself a survivor. My shame morphed into anger, my fear into action. The letters from these strangers, and the support and love from my sisters, my parents, my extended family, and my therapist, helped reaffirm the truth I always knew: It was NOT my fault. I received a couple of dozen messages of support from complete strangers, people who not only believed me, but believed in me too. īut there were other people who gave me the strength to get through it all. It was devastating and infuriating to be re-victimized by Owen's defense attorney who twisted my words and interrogated me as if I had committed the crime. I wanted to heal from the attack and the betrayal but the trial led to new wounds and raw feelings. They seemed to care more about their reputation, and keeping me silent, than they did protecting me from retaliation and bullying from other students.Īll I wanted was for Owen to take responsibility for the assault, and to prevent him from violating more girls. Paul's when I realized that the administration was doing nothing to change its rape culture. The culture was too strong to dismantle alone. Paul's, where entrenched traditions allow girls to be treated as objects, or targets, in games of sexual conquest. We talked about how difficult it was to challenge the status quo at St. I even distanced myself from my family and wondered if life would be easier for everyone if I were gone. Classmates openly stared or averted their eyes when I was around. Other students cracked age-of-consent jokes. Guilt and shame consumed my every thought when I returned to campus, a tight-knit boarding school community of roughly 500 students. Nothing could prepare me for the victim-blaming that ensnares survivors of sexual assault. When news broke of Owen Labrie's arrest in the summer of 2014, I was shocked by online comments calling me a slut and a liar. If I hadn’t done anything wrong, then someone had done something wrong to me. Why did I leave my dorm room that night? I had said no to my attacker, but why didn't I kick and scream? In some ways, it was easier to blame myself than accept that I was the victim of a crime. ![]() I questioned myself non-stop for months - scratch that - for years after being sexually assaulted. I tried to convince myself that things couldn't be that bad, because I was still alive. ![]()
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