A letter to my former self
(05/02/16 2:47pm)
A letter to my former self
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A letter to my former self
Duke students like to have fun. Whether tenting for the big game or going hard at Shooters, we escape the stress of a demanding course load with a work hard, play hard mentality. But what if that doesn’t work for everyone?
I spent most of a recent Saturday sitting inside my bedroom closet unable to move. For most of that week I had been trying to run away from my life and had ended up in my closet looking for my back-up plan—pills I had saved when I was sick over summer—to finally end my life. My current break down, like others before, caught me by surprise. All it took was seeing a post I had written my freshman year about sexual assault, urging people to sign a petition to increase the statute of limitations at Duke to protect victims of sexual assault in college. I hadn’t realized then that, by my senior year, I would be one of these women after being assaulted, drugged and raped on more than one occasion. Seeing this younger version of myself triggered something deep in me, and for the second time in less than a year, I was drawing up ways to die.
LDOC is supposed to be the best day of the year. You’re supposed to sleep in. You’re supposed to start off the day with a mimosa. You’re not supposed to get a call at 10am from your mother, who’s sobbing and wants to see if you’re ok. You’re supposed to go to your classes and not pay attention and get super pumped for the concert that night. You’re not supposed to check your email and see that you are being asked to leave campus. You’re supposed to have an amazing night, one last party before holing up in Perkins before reading period. You’re not supposed to discover that someone with whom you trusted with one of your biggest secrets has decided that you are a danger to yourself and others, and are no longer fit to stay on Duke’s campus.
It was the last week of school when I briefly considered flinging my body over the balcony of my third floor apartment. This wasn’t entirely unusual for me—I’ve suffered from depression since I was about twelve, and I’ve been a cutter since I was sixteen. But at Duke, I finally learned to handle my emotions in healthy ways for so long I thought of these issues in the past tense. It was something I had dealt with then moved on from. It was done. And then this happened.
Ever since day one I’ve wanted this to be public—I’ve never been good at keeping secrets. Part of me is relieved that I can publish this anonymously, but part of me is also sad that this isn’t a dialogue meant for the public.
As March quickly approaches, I notice conversations often turning toward Spring Break: Beach season will soon be upon us. I hear talk of carbs, the distance between inner thighs and how easy it is to count calories now that Duke has done us all a favor and plastered numbers on our favorite foods, ready to plug in to our favorite app to tell us exactly how much we will weigh in time for that cruise. While this is perhaps the most damaging time of the year, there is no real end to beach season in sight.
“Oooh my God, how amaaaaazing was abroad?!” “Was it just sooo amazing?!” “Ah I bet you had such adventures!” “I’m soooo jealous!” “Oh my God, was it life-changing!?”
This column is not about my rape. It’s about the people who say they’re on my side.
Hey. You. Want to know who I am? Behold, the one … the only … 2011’s first Sexual Misconduct Guinea Pig! Yeah, that’s right. It’s me!
I am gay. I am in the military. I go to an elite university. These are not contradictory things. With “don’t ask, don’t tell” finally repealed, America’s elite universities no longer have any excuse to perpetuate the 40-year-old injustice of banning military organizations on their campuses. Just as DADT robbed service members like me of essential person liberties and freedoms, the archaic Vietnam-era policy of banning military organizations at America’s most prestigious universities denies students these same rights.
I could have given up right there. The rat showed up again. It slipped out of nowhere and ran along the purple-painted rails of the bed, and climbed up the rectangular stairs that held the wooden bunk bed together. The rat never really came close to me, but I remember carefully tracing its frantic path as it explored every corner of the 20 sq. ft. room except for the trusty bed upon which I lay.
If you don't know what 4chan is, you should be ashamed. At this very moment, I hope you are looking up 4chan on Wikipedia and Googling why you've been living under a rock.
Last semester, my psychology professor asked us to raise our hands if we knew someone with an eating disorder. Almost everybody put up an arm. The bluntness of his question, combined with the large number of hands in the air, numbed me as I raised my own hand high in silent tribute to the past four painful years of my life, my own struggle with anorexia and bulimia nervosa.
Google "Burma" and you will find (1) stories about Angelina Jolie's wanting to adopt a Burmese baby girl, then (2) news that the month-long peaceful pro-democracy rising is about to face-what many dread-a Tiananmen-style crackdown.
She was, in many ways, a typical Duke student. She enjoyed her classes, but she was smart, not brilliant. She went out occasionally, but she was at best, cute, not beautiful. She was a member of a sorority, but not one of the top tier. She was, what you could call, a "student leader;" she attended meetings with "Larry" and "Zoila" and "Nicole," and generally knew what was going on on campus. She had the onion-peels-friend structure: the widest layer of natural acquaintances from classes, freshmen dorm, organizations, an inner layer of good friends from different groups, and a small core of intimate friends.
Editor's Note: The following column was written by the victim of the reported sexual assault in Wannamaker Dormitory Oct. 9. The Chronicle's policy prohibiting unsigned guest columns was waived in this particular case because the editors were able to verify its authenticity and because the opinions contained within it contribute uniquely to campus discourse on sexual assault.