I typically believe that this world has well over 50 shades of grey; that one moment, one mistake, one “oopsies” doesn’t define a person’s character.
But this, to me, is black and white. Brock Turner, you do not deserve to be free.
You did not make a mistake; you made several sick, disgusting decisions. You took an incapacitated woman behind a dumpster with the intent to rape her. You took pictures of her breasts and sent them to a group chat; you ran when confronted, stopping only when physically tackled. You’ve yet to apologize. You’ve yet to take any responsibility for your actions, instead speaking about the “party culture” on college campuses.
Brock Turner, I’ve been drinking for 6 years (sorry, Dad) and I’ve yet to rape anyone.
I know, shit is mind blowing.
A little secret, Brock? Having consensual sex isn’t rocket science. It is an enthusiastic “yes”, not the absence of “no”. It is not optional. Furthermore, you should know that if a lady is comatose, she does not want to sleep with you; you did get into Stanford, after all. Surely you can conceptualize this.
I don’t need to know you to know who you are. How is that possible? How can I possibly know you? It’s really simple: despite what your mommy and daddy and swim coaches told you, you are not special. You are a single drop in the fucking ocean that is rape culture. There are hundreds of you on every campus.
You’re the reason women go to the bathroom together, despite being mocked; you’re the reason my Dad always makes me take a sweater when I leave the house; you’re the reason I hold my car keys between my fingers like a tacky Claire’s/Zoey 101 statement ring as I walk to my car at night. You’re the reason girls wear shorts under their dresses and skirts, that my friends have nearly called the police when I forgot to text them that I got home okay. It is because of you, Brock Turner, that I’ve uttered the words “Are you okay?”, “I’m so sorry”, “What can I do for you, what do you need?” in the wee hours of the night and it is because of you that I’ve heard those phrases repeated back to me.
The woman you raped will be affected for the rest of her life. It’ll last a hell of a lot more than 3 months. But I take immense pleasure in knowing that, in some small way, you will be, too.
I take immense pleasure in knowing that for the rest of your life, the name Brock Turner will by synonymous with “rapist”; that every potential boss, every girlfriend’s father, every friend’s parent, knows that you raped an unconscious woman behind a dumpster. Good luck submitting your resume, pal. Might want to delete your Tinder now.
But more than that, you’ll have to wake up and look at yourself in the mirror for the rest of your life. And even if you don’t see a monster, even if you see a blonde, Vineyard Vines-wearing swimmer who made one mistake, the rest of the world will see you for whom you are, and what you did. And you are not the victim.
