This resource is meant to cover how you might respond to some of the strains of opposition you may encounter from peers on campus and your parents.
This resource is meant to cover how you might respond to some of the strains of opposition you may encounter from peers on campus and your parents.
Out of the many horrific one-liners that Amherst was able to come up with when “handling” me, one of my personal favorites was “You don’t have parents.” It was a wonderfully succinct way of reminding me that I had not spoken to my parents in years, was not affiliated with them, and was completely independent of them. Since my days of talking with deans and counselors I have since appropriated this phrase for myself and often jokingly refer to myself as “parentless;” it’s much simpler than going through the complex narrative of our falling out.
Despite my constant jokes and ceaseless declarations that being alone is fantastic, it’s far from it and many Survivors have to bear a similar burden of being on one’s own in the world.
Whether the decision to cut off communication with parents was willing or unwilling, pre-rape or post-rape, clean or messy, being an independent 20-something is always difficult. The family is viewed as a sacred, unbreakable unit in society; many people find it incomprehensible for a person to break off all communication with his or her family, no matter what that family’s history may be.
At Amherst I was barraged with countless questions from administrators and counselors about my familial situation because they either, a) did not understand it, or b) did not actually believe that I could be financially independent of my parents from at the age of 18. These questions came even before my rape.
After my rape all bets were off. Counselors who were unwilling to admit that rape occurred at Amherst deduced that I had fabricated my assault to deal with suppressed childhood sex traumas or that it was me attempting to be noticed after years of parental neglect. Of course me telling them that was all complete shit was a clear sign that their analyses were correct. Dealing with unsupportive families is frustrating and unbelievably painful—waking up one day and realizing that you are literally all alone in the world is excruciatingly sobering.
I had difficulty at first dealing with this realization, dealing with the stress of constantly checking my finances, of trying to figure out how to pay for college, of figuring out places to go–but it honestly has gotten easier. When I was deciding to leave Amherst I was told that I had no place to turn to since I didn’t have a family to fall back on, and at first I believed this. I was terrified of withdrawing, even though Amherst was ruining my life, because of what they had been telling me. Withdrawing was made more difficult because I didn’t have a family to turn to, but since I withdrew I have found ways around not having a traditional home. In a year alone I’ve worked two different jobs that provided free food and housing while working there and have allowed me to see parts of the county I had never dreamed of before. Don’t be afraid of not having a place to turn to if you’re miserable at school—there are always jobs out there where you can live either for free or very cheaply.
Despite all of the pain, try to remember that you are strong and that being alone when you’re young will help you cope better with life and loss in the future. Yes, having a familial support unit would be ideal, but if living with your family or talking with your family or getting money from your family causes you emotional or physical pain, it is not worth it. There’s only so much that you can do to get your family to support you and if they do not want to love you for who you are, then they are not worth your energy.
–Angie Epifano
This resource is meant to cover some of the strains of opposition you may encounter from your peers on campus and how you might respond to them.
When you put yourself forward as a survivor and an activist, you become a magnet for those who don’t support sexual assault advocacy. They’ll come up to you at parties, at the store, while you’re out for a run—no matter where you are, some people will feel entitled to inflict their views on you. As a group, we’ve heard just about every possible argument these people have in their arsenals. While we don’t want to put words in your mouth, we hope you can benefit from our collective experience fighting back against people who aren’t on our side. What follows are some examples of typical opinions we’ve heard, and some suggestions for how to respond. Use them wisely!
“We love this university. Why are you trying to tear it apart?”
It can be helpful to respond to this by asking people to explain why they are loyal to your institution. What is it about it that is so important to them? What are the values they think it represents? If sexual violence contradicts those values, shouldn’t those who love the university strive to eradicate it?
You might also explain that you love the university too—but your experience as a survivor, betrayed by its institutions, has made it difficult to feel completely loyal. You want to help the university become what you once thought it was. You’re trying to restore your own and other survivor’s ability to love their school.
If none of that gets through to them—if they really don’t care about survivors’ experiences or forcing the university to truly embody the values it claims—try pointing to the growing national momentum on this issue. In ten or twenty years, schools who didn’t work to end sexual violence on their campuses will seem completely out of touch. They might have trouble attracting students. Their alumni—including whomever you’re talking to—might feel ashamed of their school for being so behind on such a crucial issue. If the person wants to be able to maintain their school spirit long into the future, they should support your cause.
“I agree, but do you have to use such inflammatory rhetoric?”
There is a time and a place for using strong rhetoric to advocate for a cause. You first need to address this issue on a case-by-case basis: In your situation, is the person actually referring to your choice of words, or to the fact that you are speaking up at all? If the latter, you should let them know that because the culture around sexual violence hinges on silence and shaming, it is important for you to advocate vocally for people who have been affected and their allies. If someone dismisses speaking out as inflammatory just because it’s public, they aren’t truly listening to what you’re saying and probably don’t want to.
If, however, they’re saying your rhetoric is too harsh or paints the university in too negative a light, then explain that in order to gain traction for such a taboo and underappreciated issue you must speak out and speak loudly. It’s important that you don’t say things along the line of “everyone who ever has or will be associated with the university is the scum of the earth/sexist/a victim blamer” because that’s just really broad and likely untrue. However, it is not needlessly inflammatory to vocalize hard truths about how you were treated by the university and the larger problem of sexual violence on campuses in our society. It’s important to show the problem of sexual violence for what it is in order for people to take you seriously rather than revert back to the thought that “it couldn’t happen here.”
“There are lots of bigger problems.”
People may tell you that, since sexual violence is even more prevalent or horrific in communities other than your campus—among Native American women here in the U.S., for example, or in conflict zones abroad—your energy is misplaced. They may try to shift your focus to other problems that they see as more pressing, like poverty or hunger—problems “that affect everyone, not just women” (a statement which obviously ignores the men and boys affected by sexual violence every day). The implication is that it’s somehow disrespectful to those who “have it worse” to focus on the problems close at hand. This is completely misguided.
First of all, just because your campus appears to be comparatively safe doesn’t mean it can’t have a rape problem. No one should experience sexual violence, ever, anywhere. It’s important to prevent assault within your community. And sexual violence on campuses affects students’ access to education—which is a question of systematic, national inequality.
Second, fighting rape culture in one place weakens it everywhere. Your activism will raise consciousness and could give rise to new strategies or recruit new allies. While those developments won’t do anything immediately to address problems elsewhere, they strengthen the movement nonetheless.
Finally, change comes about most quickly when it is local and organic. You are most effective as an advocate within your own community.
The problem the entire “there are bigger issues” argument is the idea that that one person believes that until the world’s most important problem is solved, no other issue should be touched. This is troubling because it paints the world and its problems one-dimensionally rather than as contributing to each other in a positive feedback loop. Let people know that all issues deserve advocacy and time, including sexual violence.
“I don’t know anyone who’s been assaulted, so how can this really be as prevalent as you say?”
The culture of sexual violence largely rests on the shaming, blaming, and unsupportive questioning of people who have experienced it. This has lead to a culture of silence around sexual violence. If one of your peers says that they have never met anyone that has been assaulted, then you would be wise to communicate three things.
First, sexual assault is not something that people often admit, not even to their closest friends. So while your friend may not think they know anyone who has been assaulted, they might.
Second, you yourself have been assaulted (if you feel comfortable sharing that with your questioner) and are taking a stand against your assailant, your school, and the larger social problem. Therefore, your peer has just have met someone who has been assaulted.
Finally, just because a problem has not been seen or witnessed by some does not mean that it does not exist. Historically, many of the largest injustices in our society were problems most of the population was blind to. Suggest some resources or have some statistics in your back pocket to rebut people who try to tell you that rape is tragic but rare. It’s not. It’s everywhere. They just aren’t looking hard enough.
“It’s just a joke/a dumb tradition/a few bad apples. You’re overreacting.”
Sexual violence is not a joke, especially to those of us who have experienced it firsthand. Our society, like most others, has a tradition of telling people who have been hurt or marginalized to stay quiet and put up with a culture that constantly devalues their identities and experiences. You shouldn’t let that stop you from speaking out. While being “un-PC” is seen as cool and edgy, really it’s anything but. Many jokes, traditions, and comments reinforce the status quo, contribute to rape culture and thus very real violence, and perpetuate a culture of silence. We need to fight sexual violence and the culture that both condones and disguises it wherever it appears, even in instances that may seem small or unimportant to others. To survivors, they’re a slap in the face.
As to the “bad apples” comment, it springs from the ignorance people have about the reality of sexual violence in America today. Modern day rape culture thrives on painting assaulters as anomalies, making it so folks don’t address it as the larger societal problem that it is. People who commit sexual assault are mothers/fathers, brothers/sisters, lovers, trusted family members, commanders and best friends. the idea that there are only a few bad apples reinforces the idea that the person who experienced the violence is alone or part of a small (read: powerless) group, and that violence is a freak accident, rather than a result of a larger oppressive system.
However you choose to respond to comments like these, never let anyone make you feel like you’re overreacting. Your emotions are valid and important; simply because someone else lacks the insight and empathy to recognize that doesn’t mean you should feel any differently.
“The academy is for free speech and you’re ruining that atmosphere.”
Hate is not an argument. Hate is not a discourse. Speech that expresses hatred (even when couched in academic language) prevents substantive discussion by cowing members of oppressed groups into silence. Likewise, anti-rape criticism and protests are an exercise of free speech, not a suppression of it. While many people accuse feminists of “silencing” for their attempts to suppress or punish hate speech, the true suppression of speech occurs when people are made to feel unsafe at their school because of their identities. Encourage others to foreground not the “speech” of sexual harassment but the speech lost when a victim drops out of a class, or out of school, to avoid their rapist.
One last thing: There’s a big difference between someone arguing with you at a party and harassment. If you are experiencing continuous harassment or other negative consequences as a result of your activism, they could constitute retaliation, which is prohibited under Title IX. For more information on retaliation, see our resource here.
The above responses are meant to help you deal with people who don’t support your work with cogency and grace. But remember: you don’t have to engage with everyone. The fight is not lost if you are unable to convince every single person who gets up in your face. In reality, there are tons of people who will be impossible to convince. They would not be convinced no matter how eloquent, persuasive, or well-versed you are. Their words may appear to be arguments, but in fact they are nothing but the frightened whimpering of threatened privilege. If you find yourself getting frustrated and expending energy on people who won’t allow themselves to be swayed, just get out of there. Save your fire for when it counts.
–Swati Rayasam