I’m sure you won’t read this and chances are pretty good if you do you’re going to brush it off as unimportant. I am not a star swimmer nor am I from a college as prestigious as Stanford. Now that you know all of the things that I am not let me tell you all that I am. I am a twenty-one year old. I am a college student, an accomplished one at that. I am; a friend, a fiance, a mother, a daughter and most importantly, a woman.

I’ve tried for weeks to wrap my head around the complete and utter circus that was and still remains to be known as the Brock Turner case. I often wonder if Mr. Turner wasn’t of a bright white complexion, and instead composed of a deep mocha or caramel if he would have received the sentencing you gave him. What if he was a “nobody” from Santa Clara instead of a promising, swim team star at your Alma matter, would that have changed your mind? How could you read or even listen to those powerful words from that poor, wounded, inconsolable victim and still be able to hand down such a joke of a sentence? What more could the defense possibly have done to convince you to hand down the maximum sentence? There is part of me that wonders if perhaps you felt something for Brock Turner because you were once in his shoes and maybe you got lucky and nobody caught you, nobody heard from your victim? Or what if Mr. Turner had raped your daughter behind a dumpster? Would you still think that “a prison sentence would have a severe impact on him”? Unfortunately most if not all these questions will remain unanswered by you. I’m almost positive you will not take the time to respond to them, but unfortunately I think I already know the answers.

Judge Persky, I’m not sure why you thought that girl’s life meant less than the life of her rapist. I’m not sure why you thought a slap on the wrist to Mr. Turner was justice being served. And more importantly I’m not sure how you sleep at night or look at yourself in the mirror in the morning. What I do know is I’m tired. I’m tired of the numerous stories I hear about girls having to dress appropriately in school so as not to distract the boys. I’m tired that I can’t blow off steam with a couple of drinks, or even set one down so I can dance with my friends. I’m tired that I have had to be groomed from the small age of five to always travel in packs and not to draw attention to myself. Most importantly I am tired of old, white, men like you dictating whether or not a rapist gets three months, or thirty years. This case proved all of the things my mother, and all of the other mothers with little girls taught me. Instead of using Brock Turner to set an example against rapists, all you have shown the world is that being a white, athletic male with a good pedigree is a “get out of jail free” card. You, Mr. Persky are no better than Mr. Turner. What is worse than a rapist? A man with the power to secure the guilty rapist, who instead decides that prison would simply be “too impactful” on him.

In the end, I suppose I’ll give you my thanks. I am the mother of a baby boy and your complete ignorance has shown me everything to teach him so that he doesn’t turn out like you. I will strive for the rest of my life to make sure that he knows women are his equal, not his prey. While you seem to be fond of the “boys will be boys” stigma, I will teach him to be responsible for his actions. On behalf of all the “pieces of action” in the world I would like to personally extend to you our sincerest outrage and shear disgust that you were not immediately disbarred for your complete lack of moral conscience when it came to the sentencing of your pet monster Brock Turner.

Middle Finger proudly saluting you,

Student, Mother of a boy, Woman