My Opinion Rape survivor deals with memory that cannot be forgotten
Patricia K. Cole is a senior majoring in journalism and is a Collegian news editor. Her column from last year can be found on the Collegian's World Wide Web site at www.collegian.psu.edu.
All of the statistics say the same thing -- one in four. Out of every four women, one will be the victim of rape or sexual assault in her lifetime.
I remember looking at my three best friends my sophomore year and thinking that if it had to be one of the four of us, it was probably best that it was me.
I am not so naïve to believe that just because I was date raped during my freshman year at Penn State, it meant that they will never have to go through it. But sometimes you think things like that.
At least for me, I had to try to find some kind of justification, some kind of pattern, something that made it make sense. It still makes no sense, even though it happened exactly three years ago today.
It makes no sense that one night affects my life on such a regular basis. Nor does the realization that it will probably affect me for the rest of my life make any sense. I've kind of accepted this, but acceptance doesn't always make sense.
Nor does it make sense that deciding to write this column with my name and picture attached to it was greeted with such surprise from everyone whom I told beforehand and was a decision that I deliberated over for a month.
I didn't do anything wrong. Why should I be the one who should feel guilty every time I tell someone or they find out? Why should I have to feel ashamed? Why should I wonder if there was something I could have done differently? Why should I live in the absolute certainty that had I reported it there is no way he would have been committed of doing anything illegal?
I don't care what the laws are. I know the society in which we live. Legally, he would have been declared innocent although what he did falls under the legal definition of rape.
The only illegal act I committed that night was that I was drinking underage -- a lot -- and I am the one who paid and is paying for it.
Three years later, I know what he did was illegal and, worse, I know there is no way to fight it.
Legal revenge isn't the answer and vigilante revenge -- although embraced by my family and friends -- would not make anything better. Hurting him isn't going to make me hurt any less.
So the only thing I can do is make myself better. One year ago, I did not think that was possible. One year ago, I was dealing with the rape and the issues that came with it for probably the first time. I found myself depressed, deferring grades and becoming a burden to my roommate and friends. I found myself wondering if I would always feel that way.
It got to the point that I believed that there was no other way for me to feel. Then I wrote about it, put it all on paper and put it into perspective.
One year ago, I wrote another column on this date about how I felt -- without my name and picture, of course. It was a big step for me in my healing process.
I took a lot of little steps, too, with the help of my friends, whose support was invaluable and indescribable.
And I found strength in the weirdest places. A friend of mine responded to my column last year, thanking the author for sharing her story, not knowing that I had written it. When I spoke at the Take Back the Night Rally, two friends whom I did not realize were there came over, hugged me and thanked me for speaking.
When I was covering the Undergraduate Student Government Senate two years ago, one of the senators spoke strongly for the inclusion of information about rape in the freshmen seminar.
"If you don't know anyone who has (been raped) then consider yourself lucky because I know too many of them," he said.
He graduated and I doubt very much that he would even recognize that quote now, but I could never forget it.
It's support like this -- whether direct or indirect -- that made coping just that much easier. It's support like this make it possible for me to write this column and to run my picture to raise awareness and make people talk.
This column is also for the people I have met who have gone through a similar experience. This column is for the people who wonder if they will ever be normal again. This column is for the people who wonder when they will stop thinking about what happened every single day. This column is for the people who still don't even know that what was done to them was wrong.
It's not easy to deal with this. I know that. It's easier to move on and forget it than to revisit that time and think about it what happened.
If I knew then at 18 what I know now, if I could have seen the future, I wouldn't have drank, I wouldn't have been alone with him, I wouldn't have seen him again, I wouldn't have met him, etc.
It's maddening to sit and think of the what-ifs. I cannot spend the rest of my life thinking that if only I could go back in time and change a few decisions, everything would be all right.
I can't go back in time and I can't think about changing the past.
No one can and remain sane. I can only move forward.
R E L A T E D C O L U M N
- Nov. 11, 1997: Survivor marks painful anniversary