Why We Fight
The stories of two EVC members, both with completely different reasons for joining the fight against Sexual Assault on College Campuses.
To Change the Narrative
By Rebecca Schwartz
CW: Mentions of Sexual Harassment & Sexual Assault
When you become involved in organizing, you begin to hear lots of peoples’ opinions on your work. One neighbor thinks that your job is pointless, one old classmate starts a fight in the comments section of your social media, one family member asks if it means that you’ll be joining the Communist Party. For me, it has helped to focus on the memory of one voice in particular: my Grandmother’s.
In my mind I still see her scrubbing the carrots in the sink, her wrinkled fingers massaging the dirt out of every crevice. The kitchen was the center of every Jewish household, much like the Bubbe, or Grandmother, was central in our culture. It was the place where she could teach me how to make our recipes; but more than that, it was a place where, in between chopping the onions and measuring out the flour, she could impart wisdom upon me as I was growing up.
“There are a lot of things in this world to be afraid of,” my Bubbe prefaced, setting down her carrots neatly onto a cutting board. “But you must never be afraid of your own anger.”
At my young age, these words were lost on me. This was before I had heard her stories about being one of only a few women in her entire class at medical school, or before I, myself, understood what it was like to sit in a room where you are the only woman.
All I heard throughout high school was that I was “too angry” for the boys around me. I was too angry when I raised my hand in class and explained why I believed in the wage gap. I was too angry when I worked on a campaign and helped elect the first ever woman to represent our district in the state house. I was too angry when I reported the boy that was grabbing my thigh and my breasts during rehearsal after school and who told me that the shirt I had worn was “asking for it”. I was too angry, but I knew better than to be afraid of that anger.
I have a right to be angry, when 90% of incidences of sexual assault on college campuses go unreported. I have a right to be angry, when 23% of female undergraduates are victimized by campus sexual violence. I have a right to be angry, when 30 out of 50 states have no legislation addressing campus sexual violence. I have a right to be angry, when I had to both experience and watch friends experience sexual violence on a college campus that promised and failed to create a safe learning environment for all of its students.
My Bubbe taught me never to be afraid of my own anger, but also, that anger alone is not enough. It’s only when anger is combined with resilience, education, bravery, and empathy that we can finally achieve justice. We will only progress as far as we are willing to push.
So I ask: how angry are you?
To Protect
By: Justin Acheampong
CW: Emotional/Sensational
As a 20 year old, I have a lot of young adult problems and worries that dance around my mind.
What do I want to do after college?
How do taxes work?
How will I celebrate my 21st birthday?
But with these daydreams exist more sinister, more concerning, more suffocating nightmares, made worse by the way they love the day. They ruin the standard, youthful, adult rhythm, the beat of everyday thoughts that slide through the minds of most people like me. The war drum of fear parades itself in my head, signaling to me the arrival of my greatest enemy: violent apprehensions, the enemy of my state of mind.
How can I protect my little sister?
My young, compassionate little sister. My little sister who loves to read, who took joy in reading all the books her big brother did, following his love of dystopian novels. My little sister who loves music, her ukulele chords waltzing into my adjacent room like a peaceful lullaby. My little sister who has big dreams to become a movie director, to create art that helps people feel seen in this world plunged in darkness.
How can I protect my little sister?
My little sister leaves for college in 3 short years. I can count it on one hand now. She will partake in the college activities that people refer to as some of the best years of their lives.
But what if it’s not like that for my little sister?
According to RAINN, 1 in 4 undergraduate women will experience sexual assault or rape (rainn.org). 25%. 1/4. And this doesn’t even account for black women, whose intersectional identity crescendos this statistic into an eternal ballad, infamous to all: the fear of loss, and the hopelessness accompanying it.
What if my little sister becomes that 1? That terrible, piercing, fear-inducing 1?
“HOW. CAN. I. PROTECT. HER.”
...
can i protect her?
the fear consumes me.
…
But, hope will not be lost, cannot be lost. I will, I must protect my little sister.
This is why I fight. I may not be a survivor myself, but sexual assault is not, was not, and will never be an isolated issue. It can happen to anyone, anywhere, and at any time, and even to the ones we think we’ve protected with the warding power of our love. I fight for everyone’s “little sister”, everyone’s person that they hold dearly that could one day become that terrible 1. I fight so that there can be one less disconcerting rhythm in our heads, playing the painful song of:
What if?
As you can see, Sexual Assault Activism is not a one-dimensional topic. There are infinitely many experiences, motivations, and passions that can lead one to combat SA. It is precisely this diversity that allows organizations like Every Voice to prosper and provide intersectional and multimodal solutions to the always-changing issue of Sexual Assault on College Campuses. There will always be space and need for new visions and perspectives on Sexual Assault, and we at Every Voice Coalition PA want to foster this.
So let us ask you: Why Do You Fight?
