I have a story to share. It's about that time, maybe 18 or 19 years ago, when you wake up, naked, legs hanging off the side of your bed, totally confused, because just a few minutes ago, you think, that couple that you and your boyfriend are friends with and hang out with all the time had been drinking and playing cards with the two of you. You were laughing and having a great time. But it's not night time anymore. The sun is shining. Your head hurts and your mouth is dry. You've never drank enough to black out in your life. Were you really that drunk last night? You wonder if you left your drink somewhere but then you stop because you don't want to think about the who and the why because it's easier that way.
Your boyfriend is asleep, curled into the fetal position around the toilet, in the bathroom, on the cold floor. He looks just as confused as you feel. Or maybe you are imagining that.
You never see the other couple again.
And you both pretend this is normal. Even though it isn't.
Years later, you wish you'd been strong enough to do what should have been done to answer the questions in your mind. And you applaud the bravery of the women who do, even when the result is bullshit. Brock Turner raped an unconscious woman. And his camp is crying about injustice and political correctness that lead to his three felony convictions.
I call bullshit on privilege. I call bullshit on victimizing the rapist and criminalizing the victim. I call bullshit on minimizing the crime to a measly six months for the sake of Brock Turner's future.
Nobody drink the Kool-Aid Turner's father, Dan Turner, is serving up. That shit is contaminated.
It's so easy to remain silent, knowing that justice isn't always served, even with eye-witnesses and air-tight cases. It's so much harder to speak out in spite of the current headlines and a culture which glorifies an Olympic hopeful turned convicted felon while blaming rape victims for their choice of clothing or what to who much they drank. I had a choice to remain silent way back when, but the victim in this case did not. Witnesses stopped the attack. She woke up in the presence of police who explained what had happened to her while she was unconscious. She did not have the luxury of remaining silent. But justice would be served, she thought, and then it wasn't.
It's so easy to remain silent. For the Stanford rape victim, I now choose to speak.