It was a hot and sticky summer afternoon and I was in a room filled to the brim with my fellow incoming freshmen when the keynote speaker came to the front of the lecture hall.
“How do you stop sexual violence from happening?” the speaker asked. A few hands shot up.
“Carry keys with you when you’re walking at night.”
“Never let anyone else touch your drink at a party.”
“Make sure that you aren’t wearing revealing clothes.”
The speaker had their arms crossed, nodding their head at each response.
“But why are all of these tips for the assaulted?” they asked. The lecture hall fell silent. “Instead of putting pressure on the victim to protect themselves, why aren’t we focusing on the perpetrator, saying something like, don’t sexually assault people?”
Like me, the rest of the room looked thrown off guard. This idea was groundbreaking, as simply put as it was. But, alongside that, it was disturbing: why had I never thought of this before? Why was this such a shock to everyone? Reflecting back on it years later, it occurred to me that we had all been subjected to a kind of social stigma surrounding sexual violence that questions the survivor more the perpetrator.
Survivors absolutely deserve attention, but it should be in the form of healing and help, rather than overwhelming them with questions about their experiences. It seems too often that, when someone bravely comes forward with their story of survival, people, especially in the media, lurch forward to interrogate the victim: what were you drinking that night, what were you wearing, etc. It’s rare when this focus turns to the abuser. And, due to this, victims frequently face gaslighting from those who should be helping them, instead of passing the blame from the abuser to them.
Chanel Miller’s 2016 criticism of the media took the internet by storm. Following her assault by Brock Turner which ended in a painful, year long court settlement, Miller wrote,
“I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy […] After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don’t line up, she’s out of her mind, she’s practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up […] Brock has a lot at stake so he’s having a really hard time right now.”
This kind of language is damaging, and has been plaguing people’s perceptions of sexual violence for too long. It prioritizes interrogating the survivor in an insensitive way, as if assuming that, somehow, the assault that took place was their fault. This may be a result of deeply rooted misogyny or a common tactic used in courts that became normalized in society, but it’s time we take a stand against the ridiculous questions hurled at survivors from the skeptics, like “How much did you drink?” or “Are you sure you didn’t seem like you wanted it?” Instead of making assumptions and playing devil’s advocate, questions like these should be sidelined since they place an unnecessary weight on the survivor in a time when they need to recover.
Alongside this, the trope that the perpetrator’s “bright future” has been ruined needs to be thrown in the bin. In the Brock Turner case, the probation officer decided that, because he had no other notable offenses prior and he would learn quickly from his “mistake”, he was sentenced to only 6 months in jail with 3 years on probation. Turner only served 3 months. Some media sources emphasized the “promising” future Turner had in swimming, and how he hoped to be in the Olympics one day. Miller even mentioned in her statement that, in the first article she read about her assault, the bottom of the article listed Turner’s swim times. Just like the media does with mass shooters, humanizing the image of someone who lost all traces of humanity in their crime is dangerous and insensitive to survivors. According to Miller, “The probation officer weighed the fact that [Turner] had surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship” to which she then adds, “how fast Brock swims does not lessen the severity of what happened to me, and should not lessen the severity of his punishment.” It’s not the survivor’s fault that the perpetrator is facing the consequences of their own actions. And, on top of that, if we’re so focused on the victim, why don’t we hear more about their own bright futures in the media? Their lives are just as, if not more, disrupted than the perpetrator’s and would, therefore, deserve to be mentioned in the same way.
Cases like this make me especially reflect on what happened in that lecture hall four years ago. The weight that survivors are forced to carry, either keeping their experiences private or coming forward to face backlash, alongside the trauma they’ve endured is far too much. As a society, we need to do better to listen to, care for, and serve justice for survivors.
Your experiences are valid. Don’t take the blame for a decision that someone else made and directly acted on. Remember that they had the power to stop themselves, but they didn’t. That is in no way, shape, or form your fault. It’s a lot easier said than done, but the most important thing is to be kind to yourself in the healing process.
Like Miller wrote, “ You are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you.”
Alyssa Henderson
My name is Alyssa, and I’m a graduate from the University of California, Davis with a degree in English and film, currently working in the tech industry. When I first learned about Survivors to Superheroes, I was instantly touched by its goals to educate, support, and empower survivors because, unfortunately, there aren’t as many safe and helpful resources for young survivors online as there should be. Writing has guided me through challenging times and, with our literary journal, I’m especially excited to help cultivate a space where survivors and their loved ones can creatively express themselves through art and literature as a part of their healing process. In my spare time, you can find me cheering on the San Jose Sharks, attempting to play the bass guitar, and relaxing at the beach.
