Kimberly Emerson

I have a recurring nightmare where I find myself back in high school. I could go into details and tell you about how I’ve missed a bunch of classes and the final exam is coming up, and I can’t graduate without passing this one (usually math) class, but really, the fact that I’m forced to go back to high school is enough, don’t you think?

This week could be described as a nightmare if I hadn’t been awake for the worst parts of it. Sadly, the bombing of the Boston Marathon, the realization that one of my favorite acting teachers has terminal cancer, and the announcement that yet another rape victim had committed suicide all took place while I was conscious. There was no wonderful moment where I got to wake up and everything went back to normal.

I heard about the first rape victim suicide last week, just as I was finishing up my column. Rehtaeh Parsons, a seventeen-year-old girl from Nova Scotia, killed herself earlier this month. When she was fifteen, she was gang-raped by four teenage boys. The police filed no charges, claiming insufficient evidence, despite the fact that cell-phone photos of her being victimized had been transmitted all over the city. For the next year and a half, she and her family tried to pull their lives together. Rehtaeh was moved to a new school, and made new friends, and discovered which of her old friends truly supported her. The harrassment, however, didn’t stop. Boys texted her and asked her to sleep with them, since she’d already had sex with their friends. Girls sent messages that she was a slut. Finally, Rehtaeh couldn’t take it anymore. She hung herself in the bathroom. Her mother broke in and took her to the hospital, but she passed away from the injuries shortly afterwards.

Let’s get one thing straight. Every article I read in researching this mentioned the “alleged” rape of Rehtaeh Parsons. You’ll notice I haven’t. This girl was fifteen years old, and pictures of her humiliation were texted all over her school. Even if this sexual activity was consensual, which I don’t believe for a second, this girl was underage. At the absolute minimum this was statutory rape, and I am convinced it was a hell of a lot worse than that. So no, I will not be classifying anything that happened in this case as “alleged” rape. We can argue about who raped her, and how many of them there were, and the best way to catch them and how severe the punishment should be. But that this girl was raped is not up for debate in my eyes.

While taking a break from finishing my last column, discussing how much of ourselves our words and actions inadvertently reveal, I read this story.

The hacker group Anonymous is already at work making sure that the rapists are brought to justice. Anonymous scares me, but in this case, I have to say the attitude of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police scares me even more. Despite all the text messages and photos sent, they said there was “insufficient evidence” to prosecute anyone.  Not even the people sending photos of a naked fifteen-year-old girl, which are in point of fact child pornography. They said there was no evidence who had actually pushed the “send” button on the phone.

On a related note, not a single piece of evidence indicates that anyone sent a message saying, “OMG – IDK who sent that pic but NOT ME! Delete it ASAP!”

This week, friends of those accused of assaulting Rehtaeh stood out on street corners with signs declaring that there were “Two Sides to the Story.” They didn’t mention what that other side might be.

Since Anonymous is already tracking down the perpetrators, I feel called to focus my attention on the secondary attackers. These thoughts have been circling through my brain, so finally I had to write them down.

To all those who received these photos on their cell phones and passed them on. Who called Rehtaeh in the weeks and months to come and asked her to fulfill their sexual wishes. Who texted “SLUT” to her phone. Who stood on street corners declaring that the world was judging others and letting Rehtaeh off the hook for what happened that night. I know you all won’t listen, but I say this in the hopes that somehow you will hear, anyway.

Let’s skip over for a moment what you said about Rehtaeh. Do you understand what you told the world about yourselves?

Try these on for size:

• I am a sadist. I get off on other people’s pain and humiliation.
• I use people. Anything you tell me will be utilized for my gain and amusement.
• I crave attention and validation. I will always side with those who are in power in order to feel noticed and fulfilled. I will not bother finding out any facts about the situation before I do this.

These statements are probably not the sum of you, but they are now a part of you. Intentionally or not, you have sold a piece of your soul in order to be part of this. Be careful, because there is no solidarity among perpetrators here. Everyone that committed these acts with you now knows these things about you, just as you know the same about them.

You’re too young to understand that selling a part of your soul is not just a figure of speech. I’ve wrestled with my own mistakes, and seen more than a few people deal with the other side of this equation. There will come a day when you notice that something in you is missing, and you want it back. The only way you will reclaim that piece is by understanding what you’ve done and being truly sorry for it. At that moment, you’ll have to understand the part you played in a seventeen-year-old girl taking her life. You didn’t physically attack her. You just never let her forget that she had been attacked, and that you judged her for it. You will have to come to terms with what it was in you, and your life, that made you need to judge others.

You have a very long road ahead of you, and if you are laughing right now and saying, “Whatever,” that road just got longer.

You don’t understand all of this now. But you will. And there won’t be any activist group or public sympathy to help you through it. Just you, your missing soul, and nowhere left to run.

Believe it or not, I’m not saying this to lecture you. I’m pleading with you to go see a counselor and change your direction. You need help. You thought you were telling the world how to treat Rehtaeh, but in truth you told the world how to treat you, and it will comply.

I only wish Rehtaeh had known that you weren’t talking about her. Even when you used her name, you were talking about yourself.

I hope you know.

That road will lead somewhere. Pay attention when you’re choosing it.

Right now you’re probably shaking your head and saying, “It won’t do any good, Kimberly,” and you’re probably right. For some reason, I had to say it just the same.

Oh, one more thing, to a different group:

To those who befriended Rehtaeh, or who have been through similar situations, even if they were less dire:

All those kids in school who said nasty things about you or your friends, who made every bad situation worse – I know this is impossible to comprehend, but they were saying those things to themselves. No matter what name they spoke, they meant their own. They don’t know this yet. But you should.

It doesn’t make them less awful, and it doesn’t take away the pain. But I am begging you, don’t let their opinions of themselves become your opinion of yourself. You decide who you are.

• Write down every nice thing someone says to you in a book, and read it every day.
• Write down every bad thing you hear about yourself and then shred it. Refuse to let it be a part of your story.

To those who matter, you are perfect – perfectly you.

Kimberly prays for the family of Rehtaeh Parsons, and all the families of all the other rape victims that have committed suicide. Rehtaeh’s story, unfortunately, is not the only one.

Tags: blame the victim, Boston Marathon, high school, masochism, Nova Scotia, rape, RCMP, rehtaeh parsons, selling your soul, suicide, texting