I WAS sitting in my office in the Women's Center this past Friday, a glorious Charlottesville day outside my window, drifting on white lace of dogwoods, blue sky of spring. The voice now on the other end of the telephone was familiar but not familiar. "Where are the women?" the voice was strained, and then cracked. "I've read the stories in the national news this week about the rapist, and the misuse of DNA, but where are the women?"
The caller was a student I had known -- but had not known. I had not known until now that she was a victim of the serial rapist. Her usually strong assertive voice faded in and out as she talked, broke down, then talked again, about her feeling of being invisible.
As I listened, I understood that she was not saying that the misuse of DNA in the attempt to apprehend the rapist was acceptable. She believes that the targeting of black men is wrong. She knows that the inappropriate use of the powerful tool of DNA, and the impact on black men, is a story that needs to be told. All similiar to the "crime" of "Driving While Black," the humiliation, the rage, the shame and the invasion of mouth with swab and life -- is an injustice that needs to be named.
What she was saying was that she did not hear from those of us in the community who work with rape victims -- people like me -- about her story, and the stories of other rape survivors, in a way that truly engaged the community. She wants us to respond much more powerfully and publicly to the existence of rape. She wants us to acknowledge another "crime" -- "Living While Female" -- also a cause of humiliation and rage and pain.
I don't know if the student I'm speaking with is being "fair." The Take Back the Night march, for instance, and the Survivors Speak Out that followed, were very powerful. The many students, men and women, who attended the march clearly are there for survivors. The students of SAFE, of One in Four, of many other groups, commit themselves to change. The faculty in Student Affairs, the Women's Center, the Office of African-American Affairs, the Studies in Women and Gender Department and many other locations respond with depth and sensitivity to survivors.
But I do know she is right. We do find it hard to listen to the stories of the survivors of sexual assault. In my own case, I believe that is because I was assaulted in college by a group of men -- blue-collar white young men who were angry with the middle-class students "who had it made" at my small college. When I truly listen to the student's voice on the telephone, to her story, more carefully, with more care, when I let it into my consciousness more fully, I remember another story too -- my own -- that is complicated and painful.
What can we do about a culture where rape of women -- women of all races, ethnicities, nationalities -- is so prevalent? In every small town, in every city, in Western countries, in Muslim countries, in rich countries and poor ones, from the border towns of Mexico, to war zones everywhere.
And here at home. In the best city in the USA.
What do we do?
We listen to the stories of survivors. We tell our own.
We support the proper use of tools like DNA, while we condemn uses that are racist or simply born out of frustration. We don't let the pain of racism and the pain of rape be pitted against each other in some grotesque parody of "Survivor."
According to the student who called me on that beautiful Friday afternoon, we reclaim the word "victim" for those who experience rape, while not letting go of "survivor." She tells me, with passion, that she is both.
We let women know there is support for the victims and survivors of rape and sexual assault. We support and publicize resources. Numerous survivors have sought counseling this year at CAPS and the Women's Center and SARA. Student Affairs and the Office of Residence Life are committed to the best training possible for RAs, often the front line advocates for survivors, especially the youngest victims in our community.
We find more support than currently exists. We work to make our support and judicial systems better.
And because we do that, we don't shut out those voices, those stories, those lives. The lives of victims and survivors. The lives of our friends, our classmates, our mothers, our sisters. The lives of other human beings. The lives of ourselves.
Sharon Davie is the director of the University Women's Center.