Excerpt from my Letter to HOPE…
Although you do not know me, you are my sister. Although we will never meet, I walk alongside you. When all that you feel is darkness and it seems that you cannot climb out of the depths of your grief and pain, I send you my LOVE.
With all of my heart, Chrysantha
You may trod me
in the very dirt
But still,
like dust,
I’ll rise.
-Maya Angelou
In response to the horrific gang rape that occurred in Richmond on October 24th, the community, organized and led by Kiki Poe and Elecia Holland, a peaceful rally and march from Richmond High School to Wendell Park was held. Organizations such as Beats Rhymes and Life and Youthspeaks and the Richmond Mayor Gayle McLaughlin all spoke in support of the youth as well as well as opening the dialogue on how we can prevent this from happening again.
When this story first reached the media, there was and there still is a lot of finger pointing but it is time to stop blaming one another and take personal accountability. This incident starts with you and me. It starts at home where our children first learn how to interact with one another with respect and love. I recognize that there are many variables to this horrific incident: socio-economic, culture, race, age, sex… but at the end of the day it comes down to individual actions – this is not just a RICHMOND PROBLEM, this is OUR PROBLEM. And perhaps, the worst type of blame, is the one directed towards the victim. After a woman is raped, the attention always seems to focus on where they were when assaulted, why they were even there, and their relations with the assailant and so on.
So after the rally ends, the cameras stop rolling, and we all head home do we forget our promises or do we continue the work and how will we individually keep the dialogue going and BE THE CHANGE THAT WE ALL WISH TO SEE?
A Heaviness in My Heart
After the rally, my friend and I proceeded to lunch and there he asked me how I felt about the rally. Overall I am a very talkative person but I found myself at a loss for words. I was inspired by the survivors of rape who spoke – Women whose voices have become the sound of HOPE and PEACE for other victims of rape.
For the last 3 months I’ve been quite bothered about the overall treatment women receive from men. I acknowledge that I am an attractive young woman, but that does not mean that I deserve to be disrespected by a man when I turn down his advances or to be barked at in a disrespectful way when I am walking down the street minding my own business. How do I find harmony between my self-expression such as my style of dress or the ink on my skin without a man assuming that he can easily lure me in his bedroom? Whether I am at the gym in my sweaty clothes, stringy hair and no makeup or out to lunch in a dress and all done up, I receive advances from men and I would like to say more than half of those are in a disrespectful manner. I try to laugh it off and my closest male friends seem to think that I have no choice, that this is just the way it is going to be because I am attractive. There is something suffocating about not having a choice. And while these men get away with the way they choose to treat women, I go home feeling bad and ashamed that maybe, just maybe I am asking for it? But why do I have to feel that way? When it is not my fault that they do not know how to act with good manners. Would they treat their sister or mother in this fashion because I would certainly hope not! So where does this come from? Is it because men are just wired to think with their dicks and hunt? Is it because they did not have the proper upbringing and foundation so that they know how to APPROACH a WOMAN with RESPECT? Will they ever grow out of it or will this behavior last a lifetime? And the scariest of all questions that I ask myself, which of these men that have approached me in the past, have a deeper and darker wiring to take this to another level and have the capacity to rape a woman and sexually assault her?
People out there must be told about the self-loathing
that follows rape and how it’s the greatest breakage
in divine law to mutilate themselves, as I have done.
-Tori Amos
I stood in the crowd listening to the voices of the men, women, and children present at the rally. Standing on my 5×5 foot patch of grass with the breeze on face and sunshine on my shoulders, my attention span weened in and out consciousness. In my own head I was taken back to a moment in my life that I have successfully suppressed in the last eight years. Perhaps it was the shame and self-loathing that resulted or perhaps it is the thought that I had survived that incident and moved on. But in analyzing my most recent feelings regarding the disappointment I’ve had in the opposite sex and my attitude about meeting a good man, I realized that it was all somehow linked together. There is nothing more disappointing than trusting someone, whether it be someone you are or are not emotionally involved with, who lets you down. Then there’s men who you think are good and have great intentions but at the end of the day is no different because they are still lying to you about something for their own personal gain. A man maybe wearing a suit and tie or work for a social cause, but somehow someway he is still lying to himself, because on some level he is somehow just like the dog standing next to him, the only difference is, he chooses to hide it and hides it well. I challenge you to show me a good man who doesn’t have an alterior motive.
I am in no means a “man-hater”. I know that there are good men out there, but what I am drawing from is from my own personal experiences with the opposite sex that somehow equate to my feelings of disappointment in their humanity. And don’t tell me that maybe, it’s because I am attracted to the wrong kind of man because I can quickly tell you now that I’ve been equally disappointed by intelligent, socially aware, unassuming men who are “safe”.
So how did I go from being physically present at this Peace Rally in support of violence against women to analyzing my personal experiences with the opposite sex? At this moment, I don’t even know if I can find the words to explain how this day has affected me, proper justice. So here it goes: at the most fundamental level, the way we treat one another starts within ourselves. As a man, you may have never raped or would even ever think about raping another woman, but maybe you’re guilty of harassing another female at one point in your life. You may have even objectified her and found it amusing, but never really considered how your actions may have psychologically affected her (i.e. ME, case in point). When is enough going to be enough and how far is this going to go and when are we individually going to be part of the cure and not the cause? I seem to always find myself preaching about the lack of empathy in our society, in ALL LEVELS! If we allowed ourselves to be conscious before every action with EMPATHY, we would all make better decisions. Even if your parents never taught you or modeled the correct way to treat a woman respectfully, with empathy you can sit there and say to yourself “well, if I was in this person’s shoes, would I want someone to talk or treat me in the same fashion?” I will now be bold (and drop a hypothetical number) that 90% of the time, I would assume that the answer is “NO, I wouldn’t want to be treated like that”.
Be the change you wish to see in the world.
-Ghandi
It was reported that as HOPE (alias for the Richmond Rape victim) was raped, onlookers walked by and did not call for help, took photos and even laughed at what was happening. This action, or should I say lack of – alone triggers so many questions and states the complexity of the situation of the breakdown of our society. We all have a VOICE, and we need to join as ONE COMMUNITY to make a positive change. As I left my group of friends, I walked in silence to the tables where I could have an opportunity to write HOPE a letter. An opportunity for me to let her know that she is not alone and a promise that I as a woman, as an adult will make sure that my voice will be heard when she cannot find the strength to speak and be heard… whether it is her message for Peace or just the words to express her Pain.
MY VOICE – LIFTED
In 2000 I did not know that a tumor was growing in my body. Because my physician at the time felt that I (and I quote) was a “stressed out 20 year old female” who was “self-diagnosing” because I was a nursing student, he, for a year overlooked every symptom, dangerously increasing SED/ESR levels, and almost monthly trips to the emergency room and allowed my cancer to grow. In July of 2001, a different doctor discovered my cancer and I eventually started my treatment. After further investigation of my health records in the past year, it was very clear that my primary physician was negligent and placed my LIFE at risk because he was sexist. In his shame, he did not even meet with me at the five o’ clock appointment that the doctor who found the cancer earlier that morning set up for me. Instead he had a fill-in doctor talk to me about the next steps I would have to undergo. She analyzed my chart and told me that an x-ray write up in March of that year stated that there was an unidentifiable mass growing on my first right rib, but my doctor simply overlooked it and never told my mother and I about it. My mom and I sat in horror. I can still recall looking out of the window and into the 901 Campus Drive parking lot knowing that life as I knew it would change forever. My mom talked to me for an hour after the appointment asking how I felt and asking me if I would like to pursue legal action against my physician. In my heart I wanted to so that he could not do that to any other female, but after a year of being sick and not knowing what was wrong with me, my personal principles said just move on and now take care of yourself. I was grateful that I now knew what was wrong with me and all I wanted was to start treatment and move on with my life. I did not want the negativity of a law suit to influence the treatment I would now have to undergo. The focus and attention needed to keep my spirits positive and negative emotions at bay would definitely be adversely affected by a law suit.
I received my first round of chemotherapy the week of 9/11. I was emotionally and psychologically beat and physically weak. I was mentally preparing myself for surgery on September 13th for a central line placement because my weak veins could not withstand the chemotherapy. My arms were black and blue and we knew that it would not be sufficient for the rest of my regime. The fear of going into any surgery is bad enough, but knowing that they would be implanting a port and line into my heart made it even worse. Luckily, my favorite nurse from my previous biopsy was there to prep me and send me off. I gave my mom a kiss goodbye and reminded her not to lose my earrings because at that time I had 4 piercings in each ear that were always closing. I was escorted into the operating room and introduced to the members of my surgical team. I laid on the cold table, and to my bottom right were two medical residents, the anesthesiologist to the right of my head, the surgeon and one nurse to my left. The IV anesthesia was started and I was asked to count to 10, and I think by three I was out cold.
This surgery was supposed to be routine. Thousands of procedures are performed every day in hospitals across the nation. I was a patient and I was among professionals that I trusted. There are only a few people who know this story; perhaps it is because of the feeling of shame, because I am still afraid, because I am not healed, because I am suppressing the pain and I am in denial. But whatever it is, even as I am about to share the rest of this story… my VOICE is hesitant and feels broken… but I must LIFT myself.
You’ve probably heard of those horror stories of people who undergo surgery who remain conscious during the procedure but cannot move. To simply state, there are two components involved in anesthetizing a patient: a neuro-muscular blocking agent which prevents the muscles from moving specially since the patient is intubated and there is an analgesic component to prevent the patient from feeling pain.
I initially walked into the operating room in a hospital gown and my panties. Eventually during the surgery they covered me with a sheet and took of my gown since the surgery would be at the upper left quadrant of my chest.
I should have been knocked out but I awoke prematurely not being able to speak. I could barely open my eyes and I could still feel the tube down my throat. My body wanted to fight back and I wanted to get up and swipe his hands off of me. But I was trapped in my own body. I felt weak and knocked out, I opened my eyes and I followed the direction my hand was coming from. He looked to be an Asian man around my age standing at the lower left end of the table. He was the only one who wasn’t introduced to me during the surgery. Everyone had their hands under the sheet covering my body, removing electrodes off of me prepping me for the PACU; but he was the only one who had his hands in my underwear. My eyes opened and I started to fight against my tube that I either ended up self-extubating or they had no choice but extubate much sooner than expected. I was groggy but felt my body rise up against what he was doing to me and everyone pinned me down. I remember commotion, because I don’t think they expected me to get up so suddenly. I started to cry as they rushed me out of that room and into the PACU. I didn’t know what to say. I was drowning in fear, all I wanted was my mom or my favorite nurse. I felt dirty and ashamed when it wasn’t my fault and I was so afraid to talk to anyone.
A new nurse introduced herself to me and told me that Jen was gone for the day. I asked for my mother and she said that she left for the cafeteria to eat. I almost told her what happened but I was so afraid. My mom eventually walked into the room and I had to find the words to tell her.
HOPE is ONLY 15, and girls even younger than she are raped or are victims of sexual assault. Here I am at 21, feeling just as lost and scared. And now, I have to find the words to tell my own mother what just happened. I cannot fathom how women younger than me deal with something like this.
My mom immediately filed a complaint and the doctor rushed to my side. He explained that no one saw anything and everyone in that room was interviewed and did not see anything. He said I was safely covered under a bed sheet. And all I wanted to scream was “DUH! I was covered by a sheet, and like everyone else, his hands were underneath it and being shielded out of plain view!” But I couldn’t because I still felt so frozen. I filed a complaint with the hospital and an investigation occurred but at the end of the day, I was underneath that sheet and it could not be proven although it was acknowledged that they were shocked at my sudden alertness and focus at the gentlemen at my lower left, who I later found out was the x-ray technician.
I was discharged from the hospital later that day. My mom made me promise not to tell my father because he would react in outrage. I was instructed not to shower for a week to keep the surgical area dry.
Now that I was finally fighting my cancer, life should have been on it’s way UP. This time, although I knew would be rough, was supposed to be uplifting and nothing else could or should go extremely wrong… that life will only get better. Instead, I was an emotional mess! I was violated, afraid, angry, lost… the worst part was the scent of my hospital gown was stuck on me because I could not shower. I never had to smell him or touch him during the assault, but the scent of the hospital on my skin gave him life. Smelling the gown on me felt like he was haunting me, even in the safety of my home.
Although I am not a rape victim, I know how it feels to be violated. To have something done to you against your own will. I can see my body laying on this table practically naked, helpless and intubated. I’ve imagined myself screaming at him… Let me repeat that, I had a tube down my damn throat undergoing surgery because I have cancer! You have a patient facesheet with my medical information and diagnosis, you knew why I was getting this central line placed, and you were there JUST TO CHECK PLACEMENT! I was sick, losing most of the hair on my head… what happened to your sympathy? Your EMPATHY? Do you really find joy in overpowering women who are powerless? Is that how you get off? But perhaps, the scariest thing is… how many other women have been victim to his hands who do not even know?
I returned to nursing school in 2003. Later that year I was assigned to a clinical rotation to a campus under that hospital. As I ran to the linen carts on my first day to retrieve my patient a new gown, I held it to my chest and the smell brought that haunting day back to life. My emotions took hold and I fell against the wall, dropped the gown and cried. I was so caught off-gaurd. It had been almost two years since I allowed myself to think about that day again. My port eventually had to be surgically removed out, but I was so afraid I specifically requested a conscious surgery where my mom would be present in the room. After that port was removed, I resolved not to talk about it ever again. To this day, my father and brother still do not know. It has been this secret between my mom and I – and a few close friends.
I loved that hospital and would have wanted to pursue a nursing career there. But unfortunately, after that clinical rotation I learned that the scars ran too deep. Multiple times a day I had to retrieve something from that linen cart. Multiple times a day what he did to me crossed my mind. I worked out many positive statements in my mind to get through that rotation, but at the end of the day you just never forget.
When I look at myself in the mirror, at times my eyes trail down to the scar left from the procedure and again I am briefly taken back to that day. I’ve actually had some very aggressive men invade my personal space and touched my scar because something in their tiny mind first of all thinks it’s okay to touch a woman like that and narcissitically thinks that they’re being “cute” while they are trying to “spit game”. I’ve had some men approach me and are intrigued by the scar but I simply joke and say that I was stabbed and walk away. I am made of scars and proud of the scars on my body, but this one is very difficult to discuss for me. 100% of the time, if a stranger tries to engage conversation using my scar as the opening line, I don’t talk to them ever again after their question is answered. Sometimes I lay in bed and run my fingers across the scar that has formed… it is jagged, uneven, and still tender illiciting an uncomfortable feeling to the touch – ironically mimicking the feelings I still have for that fateful day.
I was asked by my doctor if I wanted to pursue and investigation and file charges.. Mentally and emotionally exhausted, I let it go. I needed to complete my chemotherapy session, and I was still at week one of twelve. I was beat down to my lowest point… a law suit was the last thing on my mind.
The Afterthought
Sometimes you analyze people and you think you know them. We all have so many unshared chapters to our life story. We may have known each other for 5 years or 5 months, but at the end of the day you might not know me as well as you think you do. You may have gathered an impression of who I might be based on a momentary picture I choose to paint for you. Never judge a book by its cover. This is my VOICE, my STORY.
I still feel angry at times but I know that I am BETTER and do not need to feel any shame or guilt. I may look beautiful and sexually appealing as I walk down a street but that DOES NOT MEAN that A MAN CAN TREAT ME IN ANY WAY less THAN THE RESPECT THAT I DESERVE. I might smile and brush off your inuendos and advances passively. But you do not know how you affect me. On the surface you may think that I respect you, but deep inside I see you for the dog that you really are. Men are hunters and hunters are cunning. I say it again, show me a good and righteous man who can empathize and live by principles; and if you dare say that I am attacking all men, I am not because I am fortunate to know a few… but overall it seems that they are unicorns. I am proud of the men who attended the rally yesterday… brothers, fathers, and their sons. There’s a very thin and bittersweet line between the anger I still feel inside and my personal hope. I teeter-totter here and there, but at the end of the day I know that it can change. It is a process and we are all in this together.
So what needs to happen? How do we promote appropriate interactions between men and women at the most fundamental and basic level? To this day I still feel guilty about not pursuing charges, but I was at my lowest point and I was still struggling to save MY LIFE. I know I made the right choice for myself… but as I heard Wendy Deetz during her speech speak about the guilt she felt in not doing enough to stop RAPE from happening again, it brought back my personal feelings of guilt. How do we open dialogue, find solutions and rewrite the narrative? I took my first step today and finally shared my story and from this point on I will never again blame myself for what had happened.
I share with you a few of the photos taken from yesterday’s rally:
Violence Against Girls is WRONG
A Thank You from Richmond Highschool
Brothers, Fathers, and Sons March for Women
Be the CHANGE you wish to see…
We are your Sisters, Mothers, Daughters
Wendy Deetz shares her accounts as a Rape Survivor
Letters for HOPE
Video I filmed during the March to Wendell Park:
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Here are links to articles and photos from yesterday’s rally.
Flickr Photos with Rob Jackson, Beats Rhymes and Life
Two Other Videos From Yesterday’s Rally from PUMA
A very moving speech from Youthspeaks.org – Please watch
Feel free to leave any comments… It is appreciated
Loving LIFE | Bringing Smiles To The World |
Steppin High with the beat of ONE LOVE |
Moving to the rhythm of MY OWN existence |
SURVIVOR times THREE | Constantly STRIVing, ANALYZing, and on the GO GO | Feeding the MASSES one MOUTH at a time | Thinking out.of.the.box |
Living by C.U.T. (Communication, Understanding, Trust)
