The biggest test yet of my "punishments are bad" theory
Thinking about one of the worst experiences of my life and if I can find compassion for both of us
Content warning for discussion of suicide, rape and my post-rape experience.
Today I’m going to write about a sensitive topic, but one that I’ve been building towards. It’s perhaps the question that I most need to answer in my life, and the one I’m most afraid to ask. Namely, how can I apply my new opinions on consequences, punishments, and forgiveness to the man who raped me? I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not required to offer forgiveness; I don’t believe that forgiveness necessarily brings peace to the person that was hurt. But I’ve also come to the conclusion that I don’t believe in punishing others, which is a bit stickier in my mind for this situation. I don’t know if I will come to a definitive conclusion by the end of this post, but I’m going to try to work out my reasoning.
The situation
I’m not going to go into much detail because I don’t think it’s necessary. Plus, my mind has banished a lot of memories, for which I am grateful. But I will say that this person was both a neighbour and a high school co-op student in my grade six gym class. I did not like him and as I have a very expressive face, that dislike was apparently noticed. One night I snuck out of the house to go to the park to grieve my uncle, who had died the previous year from suicide. This neighbour also went to the park that night and asked me, “why don’t you like me, bitch?” I don’t know why that’s the main detail I remember, but it is. The rest of the night is a panicky blur, except for the threat of death if I told anyone what happened.
What were the consequences?
I have no idea if he experienced any consequences. I’d like to think he’s been wraked with guilt ever since, but it would surprise me if I found out that’s true.
There were many consequences to me though, and they spread out to infect the people closest to me. I stopped feeling safe and I didn’t know how to live in my body anymore. How could I explain my abrupt change in behaviour when telling the truth would be a death sentence? I ran away from school once because I couldn’t be in the gym with him. I couldn’t change into my gym clothes. I couldn’t breathe thinking about him. This backfired, as my gym teacher ran after me, caught up to me, and brought me back to sit in his office, where my rapist came in to ask for scissors. I was so certain I was going to be killed right there and soon after had a teacher come to me at home as I was a flight risk.
I don’t know all the consequences for my family and friends, but I know it couldn’t have been easy to be my parents, brother, or friends during that time. Heck, that’s probably still true today in many ways.
The consequences were more widespread though because a month or so later, I tried to die by suicide and ended up in the ICU for days, followed by a stay on the youth psychiatric floor for weeks as they tried to determine what was wrong with me. And then another hospital stay a year later after my parents discovered I was cutting myself. I used a lot of healthcare resources that Ontarians paid for through taxes. That’s far from the most important detail, but I bring this up to show that while people might think that some random girl’s sexual assault has nothing to do with them, the ripple affects impacted so many people. Almost certainly everyone reading this has experienced some sort of negative consequences due to violence against women, even if you haven’t personally had a story shared with you.
The secret became too heavy for me to hold when I was in grade eight. I was barely living anyway, so the consequence of being killed for telling the truth didn’t scare me nearly as much anymore. I told the truth. I met with the police. But there was no evidence and I gave “bad video”, meaning my videoed testimony wasn’t compelling. I was advised not to press charges and didn’t. I spent the rest of my school days wondering if I would be killed on my walk to school, which is not a great mindset for learning.
I’ve just remembered that he did receive a small consequence as I was told his police record would note this accusation. That later became relevant when he almost became a coach of my high school’s girl’s basketball team, but was prevented from doing so due to this mark on his record.
What would justice look like in this case? With our current societal rules and values, I don’t think justice is possible. Even if I had initially gone home, called the police, had my body swabbed for evidence, and gone through the rest of the neccessary steps until he was found guilty and put in jail, all of that focus and energy would be on proving he was guilty, not on taking care of my needs and healing the damage done to me. I’m not saying that victims shouldn’t put any energy into proving their attacker’s guilt, just that it’s an incomplete way of viewing the situation.
And that would be a best-case scenario, which rarely happens. Most, like mine, don’t have sufficient evidence to succeed at, or even get to, trial. We must somehow learn to move on, knowing there weren’t sufficient consequences paid to provide closure or future safety. I might not like punishments, but I do want there to be consequences.
And speaking of safety, does sending the person who raped another for a limited prison term give the victim safety? Is there evidence that time in jail cures a person from their desire to be violent? Is the victim meant to believe she should expect to be safe from harm after her assaulter is released? Would you?
It’s a feeling I struggle with as I’m back living in my small town. I don’t think he lives here, but I don’t know that he’s never here and I do know that he knows where I live. What if we once again find ourselves at the same place at the same time, and what if he is once again angry enough to become violent? I think about this regularly. I don’t think it is likely to happen, but if it does, this time I will scream. This time I will fight. If he is determined to kill me, so be it. But I won’t make it easy for him.
I arm myself with this hardened attitude, but at the same time, I don’t want this attitude to spill into how I reacted the first time, or how any other victim reacts. My initial response was to freeze, and maybe that saved my life. I responded the way I did and that was the right response given the context. With different context, that is, 28 years of thinking about what I would do differently, I hope my response would be different, but I don’t know how much choice I would have to fight rather than flee or freeze. Of course, my true preference is to never find out how I would respond.
But if it does happen again, will I try to punish him?
Let’s imagine I go for a walk tomorrow and we cross paths. No one else is around and he decides to attack me again. If my nervous system does respond by going into fight mode, kicking, screaming, punching, and other self defense moves, I would consider those to be consequences. I don’t think that’s controversial. If I called 911 for help, which is made much easier with an Apple watch where I can just say, “hey Siri, call 911”, or if it called automatically if he pushed me down thanks to fall detection, I would also classify those as consequence. What would qualify as a punishment, rather than a consequence?
I suppose, given what I’ve written over the past couple of weeks, punishments would be rooted in shaming him and taking away his humanity. Would I want him to be beaten and/or raped in prison? Would I tell him he is an irremediable, jackass rapist and the world would be better off with him dead? What would I feel if he mysteriously died in prison? I’m going to have to take a break from writing to think about these questions.
Are there people who can’t change their predatory ways?
This, for me, is the big question. I want to believe that anyone and everyone can learn to make more compassionate choices. I’ve been cruel to myself, but I’m learning how to be kind to myself instead. If it’s possible for the people who have been cruel to me to change, I think it’s in my best interest not to get in the way of that transformation by being cruel to them, because if they resolve whatever internal pain lead them to violence, then their own internal value system could (should?) be enough to deter them from hurting me again. That would be my ideal resolution.
There’s an idea out there, that I think is backed by research, that at least some bullies become bullies after being bullied themselves, and the same for those who commit sexual assault. Now, there is no part of me who wants to rape another person and I don’t think that experiencing violence is a good excuse for committing violence. But, I can’t escape the fact that I have been violent towards myself. Do people who are violent against others deserve less compassion than those who are violent against themselves?
No matter the answer, I don’t want to be violent as a response to having experienced violence. So, to answer my questions above, I would not encourage anyone to beat or rape him in prison, or elsewhere. I do not wish that on him either. I would not tell him he is irremediable, as it is my sincere hope that he is redemiable. I would, in all probability, feel relief if I learned he died in prison. But probably also fear, as I would wonder if any of his loved ones would choose to blame me for his death and want revenge.
I would want him to receive therapy. I would want him to read books and articles, watch movies, TV shows, and documentaries, and/or listen to podcasts that focus on the experience of women and victims, plus reformed criminals who learn how to make amends and develop compassion for themselves and others. I would want him treated humanely and fairly, which isn’t to say I would want him to live in luxury; I would not. But I would want him to receive tasty meals. And have access to art. I would want it to be easy for him to have visits from his family and friends. I would want jail to soften him, not harden him.
I’m slightly surprised that this is the conclusion I’ve come to. I’ve been so attached to my desire for revenge and punishment and it feels strange to let those desires go. I think it feels good.
There is a flip side though, which is, what if he told me he enjoyed causing me pain, he felt no remorse, and hoped he could again? What if he is a psychopath and quite simply is irremediable?
This is the possibility that keeps the fear flamed inside me. I still wouldn’t want to become a violent person as a reaction to experiencing violence, but I certainly wouldn’t want him freely walking the streets. My hope would be for him to spend the rest of his life in jail, unable to inflict pain on me or others. But, I don’t know if there’s a credible way to differentiate those who can change from those who can’t. And even if there was, I don’t think I trust that psychopaths who have power wouldn’t use it against those without power.
In either case, my action plan is the same: hope for the best (that violent people can change) but prepare for the worst (some people are violent and some of them might always be that way). And as much as I want him to experience enough love and compassion to change his heart and values, I don’t want to be the person to give it to him; I hope I never see him again in this, and any potential future, life.
Taking care of my needs
These philosophical questions are useful for determining how I want to respond to all sorts of pain/betrayal/hurt I experience at the hands of others and how to not turn into the type of person I hate. Or more accurately, to stop becoming the type of person I hate. But just as importantly, I want to make sure that after having my boundaries crossed, my focus is on repairing and refilling me needs. I’ve been in and out of therapy for 28 years and healed many of my emotional and spiritual wounds, but not all of them. And the ones that did heal left deep scars. I wonder if my scars would have faded by now if I had focused more on identifying and meeting my needs from the beginning. Better late than never though, so I’ve identified four needs that were difficult to meet after being attacked and what I’m doing now to meet them.
1. Safety
This one is difficult, because it isn’t fully in my control. I can’t cast a spell that says no one will be violent against another person ever again or create a protection bubble around me. Some people are cruel. Some people are careless. Some people have conflicting values, priorities, and needs that leads to pain for me. And that’s just humans! I also have a significant illness now that makes so many things dangerous for me. Not to mention storms, natural disasters, and infectious pathogens in the air, water, food, and animals. The world is legitimately unsafe in a number of ways, and ignoring those risks won’t keep me safe!
But, there are ways I can reduce the risks. I can limit myself to walks during daylight hours. I can practice being present while walking so I notice tree roots to avoid tripping over, slippery ice, speeding vehicles that might not stop, or humans who might get too close for my comfort. I can fully cook any meat I eat, wash my fruits and vegetables, run air purifiers in my home, and wear a respirator when I can’t trust the air others breath out in my vicinity. I can keep my cell phone with me in case I need to call for assistance. I can adjust my schedule, like not going out during a lightning storm or blizzard. I can distance myself from people who don’t care to meet my safety needs.
2. A sense of self-worth
The twin ideas that we have to earn our value through our production and that bad things don’t happen to good people have taken a toll on me. I certainly thought that being raped was proof I wasn’t a good person and I must have deserved it. I’ve written before about how I didn’t think I deserved the kindness my ex showed me at the beginning of our relationship, and I still have a voice telling me I am worthless. Fortunately, I also have other voices telling me that my very existence is enough proof that I am valuable and precious. I don’t have to stress myself out trying to be a good person because being any kind of human is enough to receive compassion and love.
The world, and more specifically Canada for my purposes, doesn’t like or value disabled people, so these days I must spend a lot of energy building myself up. I do have to remind myself that there are people who would feel sadness if I stopped existing and they are, for me, more important than the people who would feel indifference. Or those who might even feel relief that I’m no longer here to remind them that we are still living in a pandemic (and I want them to feel a duty to protect others). Which brings me to a slight variation of the self-worth need…
3. My life is important even if my existence and needs angers and/or annoys others
I will be the first person to say I can be annoying. And my needs annoy and sometimes anger me too. But that doesn’t mean I deserve to be attacked, whether the attack is sexual, physical, or verbal. I don’t! I’m allowed to not like people and it isn’t reasonable for anyone to rape me and threaten me with death if they think (or know) I don’t like them. Violence and threats of violence are wrong, not me.
Over the coure of my life, I’ve spent a lot of energy trying not to be annoying or live in a way that disrupts the comfort of others, but often at the expense of my own needs. I want to be conscientious towards others, just as I want them to be to me. But sometimes my needs need to be prioritized, especially over the desires of others, and that is okay.
4. The ability to say no and set boundaries
This is probably a sub category of a need for safety, but an important one to distinguish and practice. As I mentioned above, I went into freeze mode and I did not try to fight off the attack. I was later told that might have saved my life - and maybe it did! – but it also reinforced in a major way that I shouldn’t fight or protest or defend my boundaries in any way, and that lesson has not served me well. It even has made it hard for me to set boundaries with myself, but I’m getting better at it.
As an example, there are often west coast baseball games I want to watch, but going to bed early has been so important to my health and I need to prioritize consistent sleep over the joy of watching Shohei Ohtani play historically good baseball. Going to sleep on time is easier these days as I take a medication that has the side effect of making me sleepy, but I do still try to negotiate with myself to stay up late, particularly for the post season games. But I tell myself “no”. It’s disappointing, but also fun to wake up in the morning to dozens of chat messages documenting the experience of watching him live. It’s also good practice for learning how to enforce boundaries.
I also try to set to memory, and recall, the times when it was good I respected boundaries, whether mine or someone else’s. For example, once I was witness to my ex pressuring a friend to drink alcohol after she had declined. I know I annoyed my ex, but I’m glad I did. Especially when I later learned the friend had declined because she was pregnant and not ready to share the news yet. I don’t think that contributed to the end of our relationship, but even if it did, it was worth it and something I would do again ten times out of ten. I must say though, it was easier to stand up to him because I was confident he wouldn’t get violent. It is much easier to have strong boundaries when in a safe environment, an important truth to remember.
A seriously thought provoking read. I have nothing but admiration for you x