Sunday, October 19, 2014

Why "Dear Mr. Vernon"?

As a teenager in the 80s, I was heavily influenced by the films of John Hughes. While my favorite was "Sixteen Candles", I was most affected by "The Breakfast Club". The letter composed to Mr. Vernon by Anthony Michael Hall's character was short but effective:

Dear Mr. Vernon: We accept the fact that we had to sacrifice a whole Saturday in detention for whatever it was we did wrong. But, we think you're crazy to make us write an essay telling you who we think we are. You see us as you want to see us: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But, what we found out is that each one of us is: a brain . . . Andrew Clark: And an athlete . . . Allison Reynolds: And a basket case . . . Claire Standish: A princess . . . John Bender: And a criminal. Brian Johnson: Does that answer your question? Sincerely yours, The Breakfast Club.

The cliques that tried to define me in high school no longer exist, but attempts to label us all continue. We lump people into categories based on their religious beliefs, their gender, their political affiliations, and their socio-economic status. We see others as we want to see them: in the simplest terms, in the most convenient definitions. But we are so much more than those categories imply - and more often than not, the category definitions are not accurate. Each one of us is more than society's definition of us.

So here's "Dear Mr. Vernon" - my drop in the ocean, my shout into the void, my scream at the machine. I hope whoever reads this understands that I am a work in a progress, that I know I am not always right, and that I will strive to be respectful of alternative points of view. I just ask that any readers do the same.

It Never Goes Away

As a college football fan, I have been watching the events unfold at Florida State University and the actions of Jameis Winston closely. I have alternated between feeling physically ill and pure rage when reading about what I perceive to be a systemic failure to hold football players accountable for their actions, on the part of the university and the local police department. I firmly believe in the concept of innocent until proven guilty, but I realize that concept can be corrupted when law enforcement officers, in particular, do not fulfill their responsibility. Would the situation be different if they had treated Winston like any other accused rapist? If they had considered the witness statements with their usual skepticism when the witness is a friend of the accused? If they had treated his accuser with respect instead of suspicion - or at the very least given her the same benefit of the doubt they apparently gave him? And if they had completed their investigation in a timely manner including processing all of the evidence correctly?

I have been accused of being unreasonable, irrational, and overly emotional when I try to talk about it or when I have to change the channel because I can't look at his face or listen to his coach talk about the "character" of his team or the "class" and "dignity" they have shown. I believe in my gut, the whole of my being, that Winston has no respect for women and that he is either a rapist or a heartless cad who thinks women are his to use and dispose of at will. However, only one of those options is a crime. In my search to calm my spirit, I came across this thought-provoking article that I think everyone should read: Ugly Treatment.

The author doesn't demonize Jameis Winston nor does it go into any of his other allegations. It's just about the fundamental problem of perception in so many cases. As I said, I have my own opinion of this particular case, but I'm trying to put aside my own personal biases to get to the heart of the matter. It's been 25 years since a fellow student and football player stole my virginity, and I still ask myself if it was my fault, if he really heard me say no, if I can even call myself a victim or a survivor. I did not do what this young woman did when she reported it, told her loved ones about it, and subjected herself to a rape kit, multiple police interviews, public scrutiny and even vile hatred. I didn't do it because I knew I got drunk on purpose, and I felt I had started something he was more than willing to finish. It wasn't my fault, but maybe it wasn't his either. So how do we stop this from happening?

We talk to our kids, to our friends, to anyone who will listen. Maybe we use this case as an example. No, she shouldn't have left the bar with three men she didn't know and maybe her friends could have stopped it. But the same must be said about him - he shouldn't have left the bar with a woman he didn't know, and his friends shouldn't have let him. We let young men know behaviors like this - peeking in at your friend having sex with someone he doesn't know, hoping for a shot at her later, and videotaping it - is not acceptable behavior. We shout from the rooftops that dropping off your latest conquest "near her dorm" at 2 a.m., is not how you treat a woman, no matter what she has or hasn't done. We demand that law enforcement treat rape victims the same way they treat victims of a robbery or a car accident - like they have a voice, like they can tell the truth without being made to feel like a criminal themselves, like you will take them seriously and investigate their case thoroughly and fairly. And we tell university leaders that we expect them to set standards and follow them, to educate their students about sexual assault and how to prevent it, and above all, that we hold them responsible for upholding the law and supporting ALL of their students - not just the athletes who sell tickets and win championships.