know my name
I remember reading the Stanford victim impact statement on Buzzfeed News in summer 2016. I had just finished my freshman year of high school and turned fifteen years old. It was June, so only a few days after my birthday. I had probably found it because of theSkimm, an email newsletter I subscribed to. Her prose was sharp, her words inspiring. I felt her presence when she wrote: "To girls everywhere, I am with you." I remember talking to my parents about it in the car the day after and not managing to elicit much of a response from them.
Fast forward to New Year's Eve this year. I read Know My Name on a whim, because this is a book I have wanted to read all year.
I stepped onto Stanford's campus for the first time this April. With Cardinal Red tinted glasses, I was enamored by the fountain hopping, the funny dancing tree mascot, the "intellectual vitality" I had written about in my essays and found in the brilliant, quirky, and humble people I would soon call my classmates. When I think of Tressider, I think of Jamba Juice, the Bookstore, the mediocre food. Chanel's Tressider is Brock Turner's defense attorney questioning her on which parking lot she had been dropped off at, "behind the bookstore or in front of the bookstore." Chanel's Stanford was the corporate monolith that denied any wrongdoing and failed to offer her any support.
For the first time, I felt ashamed of my university: ashamed of the administrators who cared more about the brand they were cultivating than the society they encouraged their students to serve.
Through Chanel, I learned how agonizing and taxing, financially and emotionally, the legal process is for survivors. The "system" isn't merely broken. It does not exist for the victims, the women who didn't choose to become victims, and do not like to be identified as victims. I saw the double standards that are engrained in the legal process. The burden of proof is incredibly high, to prove that the assault occurred beyond a reasonable doubt, while defendants have much more leeway for why they fail to recall crucial details. I saw this imbalance in the way reporters and attorneys reduced Emily Doe to ten syllables - “unconscious intoxicated woman”- in the way they picked apart her weight, her past relationships, her drinking habits in college, while for Turner, they focused on his academic and athletic accolades. Judge Persky wanted a light sentence so as not further impact his unmet potential. Women are always judged more by their pasts, men by their futures.
Chanel channeled her pain into purpose, to fight for girls like me. Chanel writes, "In court, the judge is the captain of the ship. My captain sunk us. She turned their ship, pointing them toward the horizon. It was my hope that Stanford could be that kind of an institution, willing to be a leader in protecting survivors." I don’t yet know when or how, but someday, I do hope to be that better captain and fight for her.
