CW: Rape, retraumatization, violence against women
Yesterday morning I sat in court as someone very dear to me recounted the story of her rape. She did this so that the man who attacked her couldn’t get his record expunged. He wanted to pretend that what he did never happened. And so my friend had to stand in a courtroom and relive one of the most terrifying and traumatizing moments of her life so that the person who caused the mess couldn’t come out clean. The judge ruled in favor of expungement.
When I was in college I was drugged by two “friends” of mine. I don’t remember most of that night. But I know I was well beyond the ability to consent to any of it, the things I remember and the things I don’t. Watching the judge listen to my weeping friend and the smug piece of shit sitting in via zoom for the trial I was reaffirmed in my decision to never “legally” report what happened to me. To handle it my own way and on my own.
There are populations of people who understand 2 things very clearly. The first thing is this. The legal system is not built to protect us. It is built to protect power and itself. People with melanated skin, people with uteruses and vaginas, queer people, people with gender presentations that society finds uncomfortable, we know this very very well. The system is there to keep the people in power who already have it.
The second thing is this, we are rarely ever “safe.” That even if someone is an old and dear friend we don’t know what they will feel entitled to should the circumstances present themselves. We don’t know how they might abuse their power if given the opportunity. Of the 2 people who raped me one was someone I had known since 8th grade. He and I went on a band trip together in High School. We would hang out with the same friend group all summer. We were from a small town where everyone knew everyone. He gave me rides to work when I was 16 (3 years prior). He was someone I trusted.
When I talk about privilege, power, and the responsibilities of community I speak from the perspective of someone living in the practical intersections of power. I also speak as a survivor and someone who the system has failed repeatedly. When I press people and demand they interrogate their privilege. It is because I, and many I love and do life with, have been failed by those meant to protect us. We have had to build ways around and in spite of our legal system to protect each other. We have had to advocate and show up for each other in medical settings, in social settings, and in personal spaces.
Sitting with the group of women who showed up for my friend yesterday I was starkly reminded that there is no justice in this world. Not for everyone. That the only justice I got was the justice I made for myself. I have never regretted not reporting my assaults. I knew a long time ago that there was only more trauma and pain for me on that path. I handled it. I’ve thrived regardless of the damage done to me. Only very rarely, and only on the behalf of those who love me, am I still angry about the scars I bear.
The one thing I do grieve, still and forever, is the way I have to respond to the innocents in my life. The ones I am still fighting so hard for. The ones who create a sense of urgency in me that feels almost impossible to bear. When my kid asked me what the judge decided and I told them. They were so hurt, so shocked. “But that’s not fair!” and the response always has been, and continues to be the same. “No, my love, it’s not.”
Saraline Speaks 