What's 440 years in prison?

It's the number of years that each count of sexual assault, home invasion and stalking amounts to in the sentencing of former Bloomington, IL police officer Jeff Pelo. And while it is, by law, the maximum sentence for this rapist, it is also a statement that the Bloomington community is ready to elevate rape as serious as a murder.

Why, you may ask, do some rapists get four years, and others get 40? Contrary to popular belief, it is not their past records (depending on the case and how many years a previous offense was), but the number of charges against them for this case. Think of it as a recipe (as one of my detectives told me): breaking and entering is x number of years, burgulary carries x years, and rape is not just 10, or 5, or 3 years. Sodomy is x years, vaginal penetration is x years, and so on.

I mention this because as horrible and awfully mean it seems, if survivors knew how important remembering each crime is to having the rapist charged for the longest sentence possible, then it might make the process of remembering, documenting, seeking help just a tiny bit easier. Every cell of your being is fighting to protect yourself from remembering, but if there is one fiber that says, if I can say it to someone I could some day be vindicated, it will help. If you can extract yourself from the equation - as many survivors float over their own history and detatch themselves to deal with the pain and death of who they once were - and think that there may be others and that remembering may greatly affect another person's history, that helps too.

I was all about helping other people because it was too painful to remember me. While it wasn't healthy the way I trampled all over myself, I did good work for others and that I can be proud of. I do even better work now that I've owned my history. What has been taken away must be reconstructed - and never pieced back quite the way it was before - because there is no "going back".

The media talks about scars - it's not just scars, it's finding yourself invisible. Homeless. Displaced. And hating yourself along the way, not because you blame yourself (some may), but because you haven't pulled it together. That pressure we put on ourselves is sponsored in part by "real life heroes" on talk shows (not the survivors, the TV producers) and the myths that one you say it, once the rapist is caught, there is an end. There is never an end. The only thing that ended is the life that rapist took away - the "before". And while we don't dwell in the past, it is sometimes necessary to remember it, to own it, and to share it with others.

Kristy Mills and Jonelle Galuska asked that their names be released to the press. Thousands of survivors, including myself, thank you for being so honest and paving the way for other survivors to shed light on what it's really like in that court room - what it means to be able to give an impact statement - what it means to have your voice heard. Because my case was based on DNA evidence, I could not go public. And if you go back in my blog, you will find my livid posts about the rapist being in the papers every day - while I had to do what goes against everything I am as a survivor - I had to be silent.

No- sentencing is not a day of celebration, it doesn't heal or make the rape go away, but it gets the rapist off the street and protects the rest of us from potentially being their next victim. Because there always is.

the double edged post: Helprapevictim's online cry for help

I think all survivors are saddened by Crystal's story knowing all too well that posting a video plea for help on YouTube is a dangerous way to speak out. While I don't suggest another survivor taking this course of action, the good - the people who can and will help Crystal may outweigh the vacuous and uneducated responses to her video post. It certainly outweighs silence. The online outlet is just a very vulnerable place to be heard. With internet laws virtually non-existent, the post is permanent...like rape.

While it wasn't her intention to do so, Crystal opened a dialogue, not only about injustices and gaping holes in our legal system between those who want to help and are fighting for change, and those who live in a black hole. There are many, particularly our younger generations that treat message boards and postings like a video game. I hate to think of this young woman reading trash comments - they only have weight if you let them. For the survivor, they are to be ignored. For the activists and those working to break this cycle, they are a fine study in exactly where our country is in terms of knowing the facts about rape, condoning it and blaming the victim.

To Crystal: we are here for you. RAINN is here for you. You will never be alone. Our society is not into admitting that we have a problem and are in need a very dire and long overdue reality check because no one likes to talk about what we can seem to fix. Unfortunately in the court of law, it may not work out the way that it should. Take care of yourself, surround yourself with good people, and find the strength to shake off harsh criticism. That's not what this is about.

Protect your privacy and allow yourself to heal by the hands who can help you. Justice does not always come in the form of a prison sentence. It should, but it doesn't yet, so we learn, seek and form other outlets and alliances.

Why not (the rape t-shirt)

© 2008 Heather Corinna, courtesy of http://www.scarleteen.com/

Is a bold statement worth the price?

This is a tough one. First of all, CNN.com got the story all kinds of wrong (all they had to do was visit the web site).

So if you haven't heard - or seen - here's the story about a t-shirt that's got everyone talking on the 7th day of Sexual Assault Awareness Month:

"You've seen fashion statements before, but not like this: "I was raped." That's what it says on T-shirts for sale on the Seattle-based Web site Scarleteen.com . The shirts - pale pink depicting an open safe and a tiny, almost illegible note-card bearing those three words - are going for $25 via the sex-ed site. Promoters are hoping the shirts will help break the don't-talk-about-it stigma sometimes felt by rape victims, and maybe help with the healing process. Picture Scarleteen.com's Heather Corinna models the shirt. Courtesy photo/scarleteen.com Scarleteen.com operator Heather Corinna survived rape as a young girl, and she wrote in an e-mail earlier today that she wears the T-shirt because "anything and everything we can do to break that silence is critically important. "If any woman around me had voiced that she was raped - with her voice or with something like this shirt - I think that as a girl, my road to becoming a survivor might have been a lot less rocky and felt a lot less terrifying and shameful," she wrote.

The T-shirt got some play in a New York Times article today, mostly focusing on Brooklyn-based activist Jennifer Baumgardner, who designed the shirt. "So many people who've been raped tend to doubt the experience," Baumgardner said in the article. "I do think it's often empowering for women and men to own that experience and divest themselves of some of the shame and secrecy of it -- and realize that they're not the ones that should be ashamed," she said. Baumgardner speaks at college campuses often, and she's planning on distributing the shirts at those events, according to the story. The activist stirred up some controversy in the past when she designed and promoted a shirt featuring the words: "I had an abortion." ....What do you think about the shirt?"

What do I think about the shirt?

Here's a few thoughts--

- I give it a point for making me have more than a few thoughts on the subject thus leading to a rare-Monday blog entry.

-I don't feel a heart beat :-/ I see feminist with a capital F. And that's fine, but I think it's just poor execution of a maybe could have been a good idea.

-This has publicity written all over it. Good publicity to raise awareness? Yeah, kind of but also the kind of shock rocking publicity that loses its message in the electricity. It shifts focus from the real issue (rape still being a taboo subject) to the act of doing something controversial. And then it's forgotten.

- My two biggest problems with it: there's a time to be bold - and to me that's connecting with non-survivors, this type of exposure - and merch meant to be purchased by survivors may have a potentially adverse affect on them. It's a very private and personal experience. To go or be public is really what the clothesline project is all about it's your own tshirt - your own experience.

-You need to be careful with things like this - people will buy them for the wrong reasons and then it becomes a joke. "I was raped" is no laughing matter.

-It's pink thus clearly geared towards women. Men are sexually assaulted too. Anything that classifies rape as a women's issue is a BIG problem for me. It's counterproductive and coming from a woman, it's endorsing rape as a female thing. Not okay.

-Lastly but not by any means least, I initially thought the image was a microwave. So that's just another kind of wrong.

Soo, what do you think of the shirt?

Crazy settles in Reno

Yesterday morning, I received an email for a speaking op in Reno, NV. Didn't take more than the city name to know this was for the beautiful 19 year old Brianna Denison, who was kidnapped, raped and murdered by what police officials think is a serial rapist. I reached out to the contact who is organizing an event on safety and awareness in honor of Brianna and to support a community who is afraid to leave their homes. The free event is on Sunday, April 27th in Reno and is open to anyone who wants to learn more about safety, awareness, DNA evidence, or simply to be there for Brianna. Believe me, just being present goes a long way.
It will happen a million times over and I'll still be blown away by people's generousity. These folks are well on their way to a very comprehensive and crucial event for a city frozen in fear. I am proud to be a part of the day and am working on getting some additional support and connect to Brianna's college. Two cities hurting by the loss of one girl her mom nicknamed "Breezy" because she was "like a breath of fresh air". My heart hurts. I was pinning together a recycled vintage dress when I spoke at length to the organizers. My pinning stopped; my plans for the evening and for the next month took a very different turn. Some people take vacations to sunny places. I live in a sunny place and take vacations to bring some light to darner corners. At least I hope that's what I'm doing.
I talk a lot about media perception versus the real world. In the real world, 1 in 4 women will be assaulted by the time they graduate college. There will be many who will say, or think, "Oh I wouldn't have done that! Whatever that is: go out alone, forget to lock a door, or in my case, walk home from work. Really? I'm not saying you shouldn't be aware of your surroundings, but you will never know what you will do until it happens to you. These are false perceptions that it can't happen to you because you are stronger, smarter, quicker, savvier than others. Pray that it doesn't. Start by stopping - the cycle of blame, the myths, the people who prey. Get their MO: we've got their number. Call it.

how it really happens

The survivor community is very connected to each other; or maybe I just got really lucky in that area. at some point, we cross each others paths; some become friends, others become family. many times we talk about the pieces of our lives that have been changed in positive ways, like invaluable gifts along a heavy road we walk upon. It's as essential and as pure as water and in my mind, it is absolutely meant to be.

A few days before I flew to NYC for the trial (if you are not familiar, read here), David fell asleep watching TV and awoke to a Dateline story. The next morning on my desk was a sticky note that read "Dateline. Liz. UVA. 'The Letter'. 21 Years Later. Stars." I looked up Liz's web site and thought, "What a strong woman. What an amazing family." I read her story. At some point you'd think you've heard all the stories; it never happens. Liz's story was unfolding 21 years later just as mine had, only it had been 10 years for me. Liz looked like someone I knew. I searched on her contact page trying to figure out where she was from; she was someone I wanted to meet. She was strong, magnetic and determined. I packed the piece of Liz that David gave me in my suitcase and went off to the trial.

A few weeks after I returned from over a month in NYC (trial + sentencing), I received an email from a friend of mine who wanted to put me in touch with another survivor; she thought we might be able to support each other: me, having gone through a trial, and her, having gone through media chutes and ladders. That woman was Liz. In October we met in person, and the rest is our history. We are from the same hometown, we work in the same industry, and now she is very much a part of my heart.

Liz has had more than her share of media attention and if I am ever able to debunk any myth that tries to label her, I will do so. She has received such scrunity for, well, doing what every mother and father taught us to do before we could spell our own names: call for help. After all, a crime committed and crimes DO NOT diminish in severity with time. Are we clear on that point? Because there are many people who aren't getting that it is not the survivor who's under the microscope; it's the person who committed the crime.

In speaking to high school students, I've been asked if I would ever forgive the man who raped me. I have the engagement on tape and can hear a long breath drawn in as I considered the question. My heart told me "no"; as this person is beyond rehabilitation. As sad as it may be, while I don't stew in anger, it's simply not the way I feel. I have peace in knowing that I have done my part in assuring that he never harms another person. As the judge said, "Since you have shown no remorse, I do not feel your sentence should have any either."

Survivors get a lot of "Couldn't you just have?" or "Well that chapter is over"; people who want to believe that if it had been them, they could have prevented it. These are dangerous thoughts with a false sense of protection. You see it every time you watch a news reporter interview someone who's survived trauma. While it is everyone's responsibility to be cautious, it is never about what I did do/didn't do; it's what they did. That seems like such a simple concept. It is our society's responsibility to be honest about our current situation. What kind of steps do we take, as men and women, to treat each other with respect? It starts young, and personally I think the key is education and active participation. Awareness is good, but light years away from prevention.

It's a tangent, but if I may circle back to Liz, she set a precedent that it is never to late to trust in our legal system, it is never to late to report a crime (in her case, again) If you were ever looking for that open door, she opened it for you. So bless her for that, and all that she gives survivors.

What you also may not know is that Liz is funny as hell, so if I'm needing a laugh, I'll probably go here. Lucky me; I can call her too.