Twice in one year, her senior year at UC Berkeley, she was raped by men she knew. One was a friend of a couple of her housemates. He wanted her and pursued her relentlessly. She finally aquieced to a date. After dinner at his place, he refused to take her home when she said she wanted to leave. He insisted she stay the night. She did not have taxi fare to leave and go home, so she submitted and stayed the night. The word “submitted” sounded so wrong to her as a feminist, but it is how she felt. The feeling was alien and unnatural for her and caused her great shame. She thought of herself as strong and assertive, not as submissive. The fact was she didn’t feel safe alone on the streets of Oakland. She wasn’t familiar with his neighborhood, and had no idea how to get back to her own neighborhood near the Ashby BART station. Although it wasn’t safe to travel by bus that late at night, it certainly wasn’t safe staying. The whole experience disgusted her. She felt dirty and ashamed. He would continue to call her, persistently hunting her, asking her out again and again. When he came over to visit her housemates, she would go upstairs to her bedroom. She avoided him. Just the thought of him made her physically ill.
The second date raper was her former first love. She loved this young man. They remained friends, kept in touch over the years since they broke up, socialized with each other during winter and summer breaks, and corresponded regularly their senior years thousands of miles apart. He invited her to his senior prom at the prestigious Ivy League school he attended. She agreed to go with the explicit understanding that she would not be staying with him and that they would not have sex. She made him promise to arrange accommodations to stay with female friends of his. He did not. She arrived late at night. Once they got to his dorm, she asked where she was staying. He hadn’t kept his end of the bargain. Again, she didn’t feel like she had options. They argued the evening of the prom, which they actually did not attend, instead they attending some apparently prestigious party. He flew her out to play the part of smart, beautiful, rich lover. He asked that she not mention that he paid the airfare. She was furious with him. At one point in the evening, she stormed out of the party, furious with him. Outside on the campus grounds, he broke down crying and dared to ask her for help. She shouted at him, not caring that others stared at them: “Are you kidding me? You raped me last night! Yes, you need help, but not from me. Helping you hurts me. So, no, I will not help you. It is not my job to teach you how to feel, how to understand the feelings of others. That is your job. You need help. Get professional help, not my help.”
Legal Disclaimer: All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
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