Trigger Warning: This article contains mention of sexual assault that may be upsetting to some readers.
Editor’s Note: The Sophian reached out to Residence Life for comment and has not received a response.
The details that I outline in this letter are extremely personal. Please respect my privacy by not “guessing” who I may be. If you happen to figure out who I am, please don’t bring this up with me or others. It is extremely traumatizing. My hope is that this letter brings awareness to the topics discussed and also helps me heal from this and gain some closure. These are my personal experiences and in no way do I mean to defame or slander the individuals I speak about.
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I was raped.
It happened during my first year in my dorm room at Smith College. I wasn’t given the chance to say no. I didn’t know what was happening to me; it just happened. I remember clearly my inability to speak. My inability to move. My inability to act. The inability to say no. I realize now that it was not my responsibility to stop my rapist. However, the memory of the incident still follows me in my everyday life.
Not until recently did I realize the true horrors of what happened to me. I had chosen the same room that I was raped in during the room draw process, oblivious to what was to come. And at the time I didn’t realize what had happened to me was rape. I thought being in a familiar space would be welcoming. My room, however, became my personal hell. Within the first week of moving in, I experienced flashbacks. This was when I realized the extent of what happened to me on that night. Again what came up was the inability to speak, move or pull myself from that moment. I was left feeling confused about life and why I was subjected to so much pain by someone I trusted and loved. These flashbacks happened to me on a weekly basis.
I finally reached out to someone in Reslife regarding moving on Feb. 7, the first day the room change form opened this semester. It took a lot in me to say what happened to me, especially to someone I didn’t know. The staff member was also the third person I’ve ever told. At the time, I couldn’t even say the word rape. I was afraid that if I recognized my assault for what it really was that I would be burdened with its weight forever. When I met with the Reslife staff member, I remembered telling them that “I was assaulted in the room I currently live in.” I thought this would be enough. I spent the rest of that day thinking back and analyzing the staff member’s reaction. My biggest fear was not being believed and not being helped. I realize now that a lot of things went wrong in that meeting. I wasn’t asked if I wanted to consult with a mental health professional or a Title IX personnel. I wasn’t referred to my class dean or offered emergency housing. I wasn’t even asked if I was okay.
Even worse, I found out later that the Reslife staff member didn’t speak to their supervisor about my situation as they promised me. For 44 days, I sat and waited for something, anything. An email, a letter under my door, a phone call, a message in the sky, a miracle from the Gods. I got nothing. No response from the Reslife staff member. I lived through 3,801,600 seconds with nothing to show for it. My life was in the hands of this Reslife staff member, and they handled me with such carelessness. I remember my last flashback in that room. At the moment, it felt too much to keep breathing. I can clearly remember feeling the pounding on my heart against my chest. My fingers turned purple and uncomfortable. It became too much to live with and I couldn’t do it anymore. Every morning, I woke up distraught, tired and reminded of it. I couldn’t fathom why this person didn’t care about me as another human being.
On the week of March 28, I reached out to about eight people for help. My friends, high school teachers, professors, therapists, my previous house council and my class dean. These people all showed me much more kindness than that Reslife staff member did, but it shouldn’t have come to this. Every time I reached out, I ended up retraumatizing myself and was left feeling embarrassed about what happened to me.
I moved with the help of a close friend and my partner. It took Reslife 47 days to find me a room. Sometimes I find myself making excuses for the Reslife staff member, but I can’t anymore.
Unfortunately, my story isn’t unique. Historically, institutions, even Smith, have continued to fail students who are victims of sexual assault. I’ve had friends on this campus who had to see their assaulters on a daily basis. I fear the repercussions of speaking out about those who have failed me, even now. Lives are at stake when Reslife or the administration fails to act with compassion in a timely manner. If you have experienced sexual assault know that you are entitled to receive help, especially from those who are paid to help you. We deserve better! I care about you. I hope that this is the last time anyone will have to go through this to see change.
To the Reslife Staff Member:
I am upset and rightfully so. Those 47 days are on you. All of the tears, the pain, the nightmares, the flashbacks and the thoughts of hurting myself. I have yet to receive an apology from you. Why couldn’t you have believed me the first time? Sometimes I put myself in your shoes, but I can never see myself doing what you’ve done under any circumstances. I was not bothering you. This is your job. You retraumatized me and that is something I will be reminded of for the rest of my life. I hope you think long and hard about this.
I’ve included links below if you are in a situation where you need help:
● National Suicide Prevention Lifeline: 1-800-273-TALK (8255) ● Smith counseling services: 413-585-2840 or counselingservices@smith.edu ● MA Toll-Free Suicide Hotline: 1-800-322-0424; 1-800-799-4889 TTY ● National Sexual Assault Hotline: 1-800-656-4673
● National Resources for Sexual Assault Survivors and their Loved Ones: https://www.rainn.org/national-resources-sexual-assault-survivors-and-their-lov ed-ones
