The Time I Woke up with All the Rage
TRIGGER WARNING: This post is about sexual assault and uses words and phrases associated with it.
I woke up this morning with rage. It is the same rage I went to bed with the night before. White-hot rage. It is so much rage, and I don’t really know what to do.
I am a professor at a college in the Chicago suburbs. I am a mentor and advocate for women on our campus. So, over the course of my ten years, now and again students confide in me about their experiences with different kinds of trauma. This varies from childhood and adolescent physical and emotional abuse, to food and housing insecurity, to family separation. I listen, and comfort, and encourage, and also help them navigate institutional resources. But now, in my tenth year, it is different. What these young women are coming to me about is different from before, but all the same now. These young women are being sexually assaulted at alarming rates, and I’m full of all the rage.
Let’s start with some stats:
According to The Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network (RAINN), one out of every six women in American has survived a sexual assault in her lifetime, and women when ages 16-19 are four times more likely to experience it. Twenty-one percent of transgender, genderqueer, or nonconforming college students have been sexually assaulted. Native American girls and women have the greatest risk of sexual assault. And the one that has hit me the hardest in the last six months: 54% of sexual assault victims are between the ages of 18-34, and those enrolled in college in this age group are three times more likely to survive sexual assault. THREE TIMES MORE LIKELY. That translates to 23.1% of female undergraduate students in America have been sexually assaulted.
Most campuses have Title IX offices that must “proactively prevent and respond to claims of sexual harassment, sexual violence, and other forms of gender-based violence, retaliation, discrimination, and must have an impartial and prompt process for investigating and adjudicating reported cases.” But (surprise, surprise) Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos has proposed significant changes to the Title IX process for campus sexual assault investigations with the goal of being “fairer” to the attacker; so “fair” it favors him. If you have just survived one of the most traumatic things a woman can endure, navigating this can feel at best overwhelming, and at worst, re-traumatizing.
The stories women shared with me have many similarities. Most of them have not reported it to the campus or the police because they do not feel protected; they think they will not be believed. They fear retribution from the attacker and his friends. They do not trust police or campus resources. They blame themselves. They feel alone. This has real repercussions for their mental health. RAINN reports that 94% experience symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder during the two weeks following, and 30% report symptoms nine months after. Thirty-three percent contemplate suicide and 13% attempt suicide. For college students, on top of these statistics, 38% experience school problems.
In the last week I have spoken to four women who have survived varying levels of sexual assault. From the most violent assault, to acquaintance assault, and date assault. Those who gave consent and then revoked it. Those who were too incapacitated to give consent and woke up the next morning with the realization of what occurred. And I sit, and listen, and comfort, and help them navigate the Title IX process, if they chose. Some of these women I know well. Some I just met as they were told to come to me because I could help. I could be trusted. I would not violate them again. I am grateful that I provide a safe space, and have rage that they need one.
I sit here struggling with what to do with the rage. I can teach about sexual assault, rape culture and myths, and slut-shaming. I can help survivors. I can help my institution be more supportive and protective. I can teach and help. But what can I DO? As a mother of two elementary-age daughters, I am paralyzed. And it’s not fear (well, not all fear). I am paralyzed by my helplessness to make it stop. See, I think the crux of this for me, CTC, is that it finally hit me that we cannot protect women; we can only support them after it happens. But, see, it has to stop. How do we do this? Well, we have to tackle toxic masculinity, violent pornography, rape myths, and hostile sexism to have even a shot. So, topple the patriarchy. You know, super easy stuff.
And here’s what else: when our current president, a confirmed Supreme Court justice, and countless men in power in this country have sexually assaulted women, what message does it send? What message does it send to women (and men) about what is and is not acceptable? What men can “get away with?” University of Michigan’s Sexual Assault Prevention and Awareness Center did a study in 2015 and finds that “One out of three college-aged men reported some likelihood to rape if they were assured they would not be caught.” And even if caught, the National Sexual Violence Resource Center reports that “men are more likely to commit sexual violence in communities where sexual violence goes unpunished.” Rage.
I sit with these women and I hear my five-year old’s voice. I hear her voice and I see these women’s faces and play their stories in my head. Just tonight as I closed my little one’s door and said “goodnight, sweet pea, I love you,” and she responded, “I yuv you, Mama” the white-hot rage is there. I am both in the present and flashing forward. I am both paralyzed and motivated. I’m just not sure what I’m motivated to do (other than topped the patriarchy, duh).
Author: Suzanne Chod