For the last seven years, on the first Wednesday of April, End Violence Against Women International (EVAWI) urges the world to change the way we collectively respond to sexual assault by simply believing survivors.
I stumbled upon Start By Believing Day while watching Impeachment: American Crime Story, the limited series that examines the national crisis that led to the impeachment of former president Bill Clinton. After finishing the series, I wanted to learn more about statistics surrounding sexual assault reporting and, in my Google search, I found Start By Believing, which seeks to stop the cycle of silence among survivors by improving how we respond when someone makes the very difficult decision to come forward about an experience involving sexual harassment and/or assault.
How timely, I thought. Hardly a soul believed Paula Jones and Juanita Broderick after they shared their own stories of sexual assault at the hands of Clinton even though his consensual relationship with Monica Lewinsky was determined to be an impeachable offense because of their sworn testimony it never happened.
After all, Paula Jones only initially asked for an apology. Why focus on her or other survivors when there’s a 20-something intern we can kick around for failing to dry clean a blue dress?
Yet it was Jones’ civil suit for sexual harassment that led to the landmark legal precedent set by the U.S. Supreme Court that a sitting president would not be exempt from civil litigation for acts committed outside of public office. It was also her suit that established his pattern of sexual misconduct. After a lengthy investigation, Bill Clinton was impeached, considered predatory in nature, and still, very few people believed Paula Jones. If Monica consented, Paula must have too. Besides, she eventually settled for $850,000, which is what the press and Washington’s finest talking heads said was all she ever really wanted anyway.
Sadly, decades later, the narrative continues. A wealthy, powerful, popular man is accused of sexual assault by a woman no one has ever heard of. The man is lauded for his accomplishments and deemed “innocent until proven guilty.” Meanwhile, the unknown woman is analyzed for her personal and professional choices, criticized about her physical appearance, and deemed “media hungry” with “loose morals” who more than likely, “put herself in the situation.” In many cases, the man may be shunned by some but still praised by fans while awaiting trial. In others, the unknown woman settles a civil suit out of court for an undisclosed amount, which doesn’t do as much to showcase the man’s guilt as it does her urgency to get paid. In rare cases, the pattern of abuse is so indisputable that a documentary or a feature length film is made and STILL everyday people accuse the victims of lying.
So what about survivors who aren’t catapulted into the public eye? Women who aren’t assaulted by a man we watched on TV as a child or who our parents voted into the White House. What about the woman you met briefly years ago or a sorority sister from college? How about the woman in the cubicle down the hall? What about a close friend or a relative? Do you believe them? And, would you believe me if I told you that, in my early 20s, I was assaulted, too?
For me, it happened after hours, in a bar, where I and several colleagues were drinking well past happy hour. At the time, I would have defined my male superior’s hand under my skirt as a disgusting violation of my bodily autonomy. Now, I know it to be sexual assault.
Still, afterward, I reacted in a manner not consistent with how many (if not most) people would think I should have behaved: I laughed. I slowly moved away, gently tucked my skirt beneath me in my chair, and I laughed.
Later, after leaving the bar, I felt so angry and ashamed that I hadn’t made a scene; hadn’t slapped him across his entitled face; hadn’t told anyone we were with. I simply laughed because in my immediate state of shock, I couldn’t think of anything else to do.
In the days that followed, I recounted the story to my parents and my now husband, but I never dared tell my coworkers. I was only in the second year of my career, we had been drinking, I willingly walked into the bar, and I even stayed for a drink after it happened. I was also 25, scared my colleagues wouldn’t believe me, worried I might lose my job, frightened about the legal and logistical battle that lay ahead, and confident that coming forward simply wasn’t in my best interest.
Fifteen years later and I’m fine. No, really. I’m fine. But in those 15 years, thanks to the belief of my parents and spouse and my own disbelief in my unexpected reaction to the assault itself, I make it my duty to believe those who come forward with their own stories of sexual assault. I don’t inquire about their circumstances, question their motivation, analyze their pasts, or blindly acquit the perpetrator because of the victim’s behavior before or after the assault occurred.
Because some may question if it was my fault for going to the bar in the first place or whether I did something to incite his behavior. Was I trying to get ahead in my new career? Did my laughter indicate my consent?
The answer to these questions is no. What’s more, these questions don’t matter, just like it doesn’t matter what I was wearing, the number of cocktails I consumed, the time of day it was, the type of bar we were in, where my female coworkers were, or whether or not I laughed in fear. The experience was unexpected, nonconsensual, unrequited, humiliating, and 100 percent not my fault. And, as a result, I now know, deep in my soul, it is my responsibility to believe victims brave enough to come forward and tell their own stories.
According to EVAWI, most victims of sexual assault never report to law enforcement, often because of the responses they receive from friends and family. While my parents and my husband did believe me and I was the one who ultimately decided not to take any further action, I can imagine a variety of victims choose not to tell anyone simply because they see the collective denial every time a public figure is accused of yet another sexual assault.
The women in our lives see us defending the likes of Bill Cosby, Woody Allen, and Mr. Big himself. And, because of that knowledge, they also see how foolish it would be to disclose to anyone that they too have been sexually assaulted. After all, if people believe a celebrity they don’t know didn’t commit sexual assault, why would they believe someone in their innermost circle who says it happened to her?
The fact of the matter is only 2 to 8 percent of reported sexual assaults are false. We can help victims of sexual assault heal and recover from their own trauma if we simply start by believing those who have the courage to come forward. Perhaps they will choose to report their experiences to law enforcement as a result of your belief and perhaps they will not - that decision is wholly theirs to make. Regardless, it’s on us to determine how we receive their accounts, which should unequivocally be with comfort and grace and without making assumptions based on celebrity reports we know even less about.
Finally, I would be remiss if I didn’t acknowledge that I am writing this blog from a female cisgender, heterosexual point of view. Cisgender men, along with lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and other gender non-binary persons, are also survivors of sexual assault. All too often, these individuals are not taken seriously or have their experiences minimized by peers and law enforcement even more so than women. They are also frequently blamed for an assault and mistakenly seen as the perpetrator. Start By Believing applies to all humans and, moving forward, I hope we can acknowledge their individual experiences and believe them, too.
Title Track: “Don’t Stop Believin’,” Journey. Listen here.
