Protection

The only lesson to be learned from Gillian Kendall’s two unfortunate experiences as a victim of violence is that the universe is not here to make sense to us in any way — except, perhaps, by obeying the laws of physics. “Why me?” we ask. The real question is “Why not me?”

I have been an atheist since age fifteen. When I was thirty, my father was killed in a car accident. The other driver just didn’t see the red light. It was as simple as that. I was shocked and depressed for a long time, not just by the loss of my father, but by the absurdity of his death, which seemed to make his life — and my own — absurd, as well. The true implications of atheism mercilessly dug in and scooped out the last of my unconscious belief in the intrinsic meaning or value of human life. For a time, nothing I or anyone else did seemed meaningful or worthwhile.

That was my emotional reaction. Intellectually, however, I did not flinch. And eventually I emerged with a new awareness of how awesome it is that human beings even exist — much less that I exist — and a new resolve to create my own meaning and value in life, even though I am, no doubt, a fluke of the universe.

I identified with the experience Gillian Kendall describes in “Protection” [April 1998]. Twenty-three years ago, at fifteen, I was walking home from the bus stop when a man attacked me. I can still see myself walking, the attacker approaching. I am running, but not fast enough. I feel myself being struck from behind. I hit the pavement hard.

Some readers may have thought Kendall was being funny when she said that, under attack, she is a screamer and a thrower. Not me. I’m a screamer, too — and a clutcher. Lying on the ground, bloodied and screaming, I held tight to my paperback. Later, when it was over, I kept screaming despite the shotgun pointed at my face and his commands to “shut up, just shut up!” And I kept my book clutched firmly in my hand, as if it might have afforded some protection.

When I was younger and braver, or at least more idealistic, I’m sure I would have agreed with Kate Millett’s idea that anywhere a woman wants to walk is the right place, any time she wants to walk there. But now that I’ve experienced the speed, brutality, and viciousness of violent crime, I wonder.

Kendall did nothing on any level — metaphysical or otherwise — to warrant being attacked. No woman does, though countless women share such terrible experiences.

I just read “Protection,” by Gillian Kendall [April 1998], and wanted to add my own thoughts about being a target of violence, and what one might learn from it.

When I was an eighteen-year-old college freshman in Chicago, I was raped by two black men. The experience has deeply affected my life. Although I do not mean to dismiss victims’ suffering or condone violence, I do believe we are each responsible for what happens to us in the sense that our experiences are a reflection of who we are and who we need to become. I have a far greater wisdom and compassion now than I did before the rape. Before, I had no comprehension or awareness of the depth of others’ pain. Now I have some understanding of despair, of physical pain, of the desire for justice, of anger so strong it blinds you to what is right. I would not wish to be without this understanding.

Like Kendall, I felt that my old ways of protecting myself would no longer work. Our instincts warn us when we are in danger, but we talk ourselves out of our fear. I knew instinctively that I was in a dangerous situation, and could have gotten out of it. I didn’t, though, in part to prove that I wasn’t racist (although I now know you don’t have to allow yourself to get hurt to prove that).

Healing is a long, nonlinear process. We’re all healing from something all the time. My healing began when I finally left Chicago. I’d stayed for four years after the rape, out of both pride and self-destructiveness, and to prove that I wasn’t a quitter. I believe that the sooner you understand how an experience can move you along the path you want to travel, the sooner you will be free of the fear and be able to go forward with the strength and insight you’ve gained.