other girls something I can’t ask anyone else.
It starts as awkwardly as before. We go around the room to reintroduce ourselves and add anything to our goals. Gianna reminds us of the question she asked last week about where we want to be in one to two years. I raise my hand.
“Yes, Mia?”
“Can I ask something kind of off the topic?”
“Sure.”
I shift in my chair as everyone looks at me. “I, um, just wanted to know if, um, anyone here went to the police or court or whatever about who … raped you.”
Gianna smiles in encouragement. The other girls are quiet. They glance around the room before one speaks.
“I didn’t.”
Another says, “I did. I went to court.” She looks down at her feet.
“How many of you went to the police?” Gianna asks. “If you feel comfortable sharing, just raise your hand.”
Six girls raise their hands.
“How many went to court?”
Three hands stay up. I want so bad to interrogate them about it. A silence falls, and I feel like crying again.
“It was bad,” one starts hesitantly. “I had to tell everyone what happened. In front of him. He was my older brother’s friend. My brother thought I was lying. Everyone thought I was lying, until we got to court.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“He went to jail. The trial took weeks, though. I’m not sure I could do it again.”
“But he went to jail?”
“Yeah.” The girl gives a small smile. “I was a minor at the time. He got ten years.”
“Ten years?” I echo, surprised.
“Mine didn’t go that well,” another girl speaks up. “I didn’t report it and there was no rape kit. He got off.”
I look at the third girl, waiting for her to share. She looks uncomfortable, but finally speaks up.
“I reported it and had a rape kit. But he had a good lawyer. I was drinking. We were both minors. The jury found him not guilty because his lawyer did a good job of making me look like a whore.”
I’m not encouraged by what I’m hearing. In fact, I’m terrified.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s worth it,” I say as it goes quiet. I look at Gianna, willing her to tell me differently.
“I wish I’d done it,” another girl speaks up. “I would’ve taken that chance that it’d go badly. I mean, once he’s accused, it’s on his criminal record, isn’t it? So he wouldn’t have raped my cousin, too. It’s like, I just wanted to forget it happened and it’d go away.”
I’m surprised she’s thinking about it the same way I am.
“I think it’s important to focus on yourself first,” Gianna says slowly. “The decision should be one you can live with for the rest of your lives. My father was a police officer, and so are my brothers. My first inclination is to tell you to always report it, because I come from a law enforcement family. My family would support me if something happened. But I also know this is not the case for everyone. Even if you have your family’s support, the journey to trial and beyond is an emotional one that you must do alone. Everyone copes with trauma differently. If you don’t have a family to support you, then I think you should seek out someone who can help you move forward.”
“But shouldn’t it matter if not reporting leads to someone else being hurt?” I ask. “I mean, it’s my fault.”
“First, let me be clear. You are never responsible for the actions of someone who commits a criminal act such as rape. Your rape is not your fault. If he rapes someone else, it’s not your fault. He alone is responsible for his crime.” Gianna’s voice is firm. “Second, even if you do report the crime and intend to go to court, there’s no guarantee the criminal won’t do it again. Third, you must always look inward and decide for yourself what the best path is for you.”
“But it’s not right, letting someone else get hurt,” the second girl who talked about her trip to court says. “Even though he got off, at least I did it. I faced him in court, and I
It starts as awkwardly as before. We go around the room to reintroduce ourselves and add anything to our goals. Gianna reminds us of the question she asked last week about where we want to be in one to two years. I raise my hand.
“Yes, Mia?”
“Can I ask something kind of off the topic?”
“Sure.”
I shift in my chair as everyone looks at me. “I, um, just wanted to know if, um, anyone here went to the police or court or whatever about who … raped you.”
Gianna smiles in encouragement. The other girls are quiet. They glance around the room before one speaks.
“I didn’t.”
Another says, “I did. I went to court.” She looks down at her feet.
“How many of you went to the police?” Gianna asks. “If you feel comfortable sharing, just raise your hand.”
Six girls raise their hands.
“How many went to court?”
Three hands stay up. I want so bad to interrogate them about it. A silence falls, and I feel like crying again.
“It was bad,” one starts hesitantly. “I had to tell everyone what happened. In front of him. He was my older brother’s friend. My brother thought I was lying. Everyone thought I was lying, until we got to court.”
“What happened?” I whisper.
“He went to jail. The trial took weeks, though. I’m not sure I could do it again.”
“But he went to jail?”
“Yeah.” The girl gives a small smile. “I was a minor at the time. He got ten years.”
“Ten years?” I echo, surprised.
“Mine didn’t go that well,” another girl speaks up. “I didn’t report it and there was no rape kit. He got off.”
I look at the third girl, waiting for her to share. She looks uncomfortable, but finally speaks up.
“I reported it and had a rape kit. But he had a good lawyer. I was drinking. We were both minors. The jury found him not guilty because his lawyer did a good job of making me look like a whore.”
I’m not encouraged by what I’m hearing. In fact, I’m terrified.
“It doesn’t sound like it’s worth it,” I say as it goes quiet. I look at Gianna, willing her to tell me differently.
“I wish I’d done it,” another girl speaks up. “I would’ve taken that chance that it’d go badly. I mean, once he’s accused, it’s on his criminal record, isn’t it? So he wouldn’t have raped my cousin, too. It’s like, I just wanted to forget it happened and it’d go away.”
I’m surprised she’s thinking about it the same way I am.
“I think it’s important to focus on yourself first,” Gianna says slowly. “The decision should be one you can live with for the rest of your lives. My father was a police officer, and so are my brothers. My first inclination is to tell you to always report it, because I come from a law enforcement family. My family would support me if something happened. But I also know this is not the case for everyone. Even if you have your family’s support, the journey to trial and beyond is an emotional one that you must do alone. Everyone copes with trauma differently. If you don’t have a family to support you, then I think you should seek out someone who can help you move forward.”
“But shouldn’t it matter if not reporting leads to someone else being hurt?” I ask. “I mean, it’s my fault.”
“First, let me be clear. You are never responsible for the actions of someone who commits a criminal act such as rape. Your rape is not your fault. If he rapes someone else, it’s not your fault. He alone is responsible for his crime.” Gianna’s voice is firm. “Second, even if you do report the crime and intend to go to court, there’s no guarantee the criminal won’t do it again. Third, you must always look inward and decide for yourself what the best path is for you.”
“But it’s not right, letting someone else get hurt,” the second girl who talked about her trip to court says. “Even though he got off, at least I did it. I faced him in court, and I
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