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Kids need to know, from the beginning of life, that consent matters.
No parent (that I've ever met) would ever dream of teaching their child that rape is okay.

But every day, in many different ways, well-meaning parents contribute to rape culture, and our kids suffer for it.

As moms and dads, we probably don't talk directly about rape to kids, at least not until they're older. But we're still sending messages about sex and consent all the time. Because of that, we need to make sure we're not teaching them some very dangerous lessons, even if just by accident.

Here are six (very common) ways we get it wrong, and how we can do better...

1. Telling our kids that "boys will be boys."
As a mom of very active boys, I know most people don't mean any harm when they say"boys will be boys," but too often that phrase is used to excuse bad behavior, like hitting other kids or being destructive

The truth is, boys are perfectly capable of respecting other people's bodies, possessions, and space.

But every time they hear us excuse their bad behavior as part of boy life, they learn that they are not only above the rules, but also that boys cannot control their impulses.

This message will stick with them as they grow older and sexual desire starts to kick in. As parents, we cannot be shocked that boys feel entitled to sexually harass others (whether it's standard rape, like in Steubenville, or as part of the all-too-common tradition of sexual "hazing") when we've been telling them their whole lives that they are above the rules, by virtue of being boys.

2. Forcing kids to hug and kiss others.
Lots of well-meaning, loving parents tell their kids to give a friend or relative a hug without considering whether their kid really wants to. This sends the dangerous message that consent can be overridden, or doesn't matter at all.

Instead, suggest a few different ways to greet or say goodbye to loved ones.

I ask my kids, "Do you want to give grandma a hug, or maybe a high five or a wave goodbye?"

Kids need to know, from the beginning of life, that consent matters.

3. Asking, "What did you do to make him hit you?"
This is a tough one, especially for parents with more than one kid. Siblings often antagonize one another until another loses their cool and lashes out physically, but it's important to know the whole story before deciding upon consequences.

Asking, "What did you do to make him hit you?" teaches both the victim and the aggressor that a person can force someone else to make a bad choice. This message is all too common in our "What were you wearing the night you were raped?" society.

Instead, say to each child, "Please tell me the whole story of what happened, from the beginning."

That way you know the role each child played before placing any blame.

And be sure to remind kids that they always have a choice about whether to use violence or hurt someone else, and nobody can force them into it, even with annoying or hurtful words.

4. Teaching kids that boys hit girls because they like them.
It doesn't matter whether your child is a girl or a boy, it's important they learn early on thathitting or hurting someone to get their attention is never okay. And it is absolutely not a way to show somebody that you like them.

The phrase "He only does that because he likes you" should never cross our lips when our kids are being teased or hurt.

It reinforces the idea that love equals suffering and that it's okay to hurt others. Not only could this contribute to intimate partner violence later on, but it also teaches kids that their own desire for attention is more important than the feelings of the person they like.

If that's not rape culture, I don't know what is.

5. Slut-shaming any girl or woman in front of kids.
As parents, we are always teaching, even when we don't know it. Our kids are listening to our words, and figuring out how what we say applies to them.

If our kids hear us excusing rape or sexual assault in any way, they will internalize that message. They will also hear you degrading women for their sexuality or clothing, and they will remember that.

They may start to believe that there are circumstances in which they deserve to be raped or assaulted, or believe that they are entitled to commit (or even just excuse) rape or sexual assault if the victim seemed to "deserve it."

Whether that's because a woman made a "slutty" choice or because a male victim "seemed gay," it is wrong. Every time.

When talking about rape and assault, remind your kids that nobody deserves rape, "asks for it," or "had it coming." There's nothing anybody can do that forces another person to rape them, including being drunk or high. The blame for a rape always lands exclusively on the rapist.

6. Reinforcing the idea that girls should be "pure."
A lot of girls today are taught that their value lies in their "purity" (meaning virginity or modesty) in a time when that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. Girls are expected to remain virgins until marriage, despite the fact that 95 percent of Americans have sex before marriage. Even evangelical Christians have premarital sex at a rate of 80 percent, despite all the propaganda insisting women remain "pure" for marriage.

Telling a girl that her virginity or modesty is a defining part of her goodness is dangerous for many reasons, including the damage done to girls and women who are sexually abused or assaulted.

As kidnapping and rape survivor Elizabeth Smart has explained, emphasis on purity may very well keep victims of sexual abuse and rape from escaping or asking for help.

For other kids, teaching that sex is only okay in marriage, or even only when you're in love, can cause them to make less-than-healthy choices. Marnie Goldenberg, a health consultant and sexual health educator, says that for teens, trying to connect sex with love can actually become a trap. Girls are taught that being in love will always keep you sexually safe, which simply isn't always true.

"If I [as a teenager] feel compelled to identify a feeling as 'love' when it isn't, when it's about lust (which is perfectly reasonable), I'm hampered in my ability to understand, communicate, and act on my interests."

In other words, if our kids feel empowered to identify lust as lust (without having to turn it into romantic love), they are better able to decide whether having sex is right for them.

Goldenberg explains that some boys even exploit the fact that girls confuse love for security and will manipulate girls to earn their trust and take advantage of them.

The idea that marriage, or even being in love, are prerequisites for ethical sex also casts girls who aren't "pure" as not as deserving of society's protection against abuse and rape.

And our kids deserve better.

"6 Ways We (Accidentally) Teach Our Kids Rape Culture" by Joanna Schroeder originally appeared on Babble.com and was reprinted with permission.

More from Babble:

Boys Will Be Boys ... Until We Teach Them to Be More
The Hug That Ruined My Son's Birthday Party
Why I'm Teaching My Daughter About Consent Way Before She'll Ever Give It to Someone

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6 Ways We (Accidentally) Teach Our Kids Rape Culture

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Kids need to know, from the beginning of life, that consent matters. No parent (that I've ever met) would ever dream of teaching their child that rape is okay. But every day, in many different ways, well-meaning parents contribute to rape culture, and our kids suffer for it.

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CLOSE

COLUMBIA, S.C. - The decades-old court records of Todd Kohlhepp, charged Sunday in a 13-year-old South Carolina quadruple homicide and also accused of keeping a woman chained up in a shed for two months, paint him as a severely disturbed adolescent.

Kohlhepp, now 45, once threatened to kill his mother, used a hammer to destroy his newly remodeled bedroom, poured bleach into a goldfish bowl and locked a boy in a dog cage and rolled him around.

He is now suspected in the deaths of as many as seven people, including Charles Carver, 32, the boyfriend of Kala Brown, 30, who authorities discovered chained in a metal storage shed on Kohlhepp's property in Woodruff, S.C., earlier this week.

Kohlhepp, of Moore, S.C., was charged Sunday in connection with the deaths of four people at the Superbike Motorsports shop in Chesnee, S.C., in 2003: Scott Ponder, 30; his 52-year-old mother and part-time employee, Beverly Guy; and employees Brian Lucas, 29, and Chris Sherbert, 26.

Kohlhepp, who authorities say has confessed to the killings, has not been charged in Carver's death. But the brutal quadruple slaying occurred two years after Kohlhepp's release from prison, where he spent 15 years for the abduction and rape of a 14-year-old girl in Tempe, Ariz.

After being charged as an adult in the 1986 rape, which took place when he was 15, Kohlhepp pleaded guilty to a lesser crime. One neighbor in a 1987 pre-sentencing report described him as "a devil on a chain."

As part of the plea bargain, Kohlhepp's record would reflect he pleaded guilty to kidnapping, and he was sentenced to 15 years in prison. Afterward, he was required to register as a sex offender.

"Approximately six years of intervention in 15 years of life have resulted in abysmal failure," Judge C. Kimball Rose wrote in transferring Kohlhepp's case to adult court.

Twenty years later, Kohlhepp applied for a license to sell real estate in South Carolina, knowing that his conviction and status as a sex offender would need to be explained.

In that document, he called his victim his "girlfriend," lied about his crime and did not include all the information about his charges and sentence:

On November 24th, 1986, I entered into a verbal argument with my girlfriend, who was also 15 at the time, over the fact that she was seeing someone else. ... After a long discussion coming from two teenagers, final result was that the relationship had ended, but that we would remain friends.

He said he was charged with kidnapping because he happened to be carrying a firearm that he didn't know how to use but flashed at his girlfriend. He contended that Arizona authorities were coming down hard on minors with firearms because of heavy gang activity at the time.

He never mentioned that he served time in prison from 1987 to 2001 after he "told her not to move while we talked this out."

Hundreds of pages of court records, including a pre-sentencing report, psychological evaluations and statements from police, probation officers and judges in the 1986 case portray Kohlhepp as an emotionally disturbed 15-year-old with explosive anger issues, no family support system and little remorse for his crime at the time.

In reality, Kohlhepp used his father's handgun to force a 14-year-old neighbor to walk to his home, where he placed duct tape on her in his bedroom, tied her hands and then raped her, according to Arizona records.

Todd Kohlhepp, 45, of Moore, S.C., is escorted Nov. 4, 2016, into a Spartanburg County magistrate courtroom for a bond hearing. (Photo: Tim Kimzey, AP)

When questioned about the crime, Kohlhepp told a probation officer that he wasn't sure why he raped the girl but it could have been an act of rebellion because his father was out of town, the records show. He said the gun did not work.

He said he also used a knife to threaten the teenage girl after placing the gun back where he found it, according to the records.

"When questioned how he thinks this offense has affected the victim, the defendant responded, 'I have messed myself up, too,' " a probation officer reported.

While Kohlhepp told the officer he knew what he did was wrong, he said he thought the girl was 16 at the time, so he considered a 15-year sentence for the rape unfair. He wanted his sentence to be 12 years or fewer because he thought getting out prison at age 28 would allow him to get a job in the military, according to the pre-sentencing report.

The girl's rape had a "devastating effect on the entire family," her parents said at the time. She cried and was unable to communicate during most of an interview with a probation officer, and her parents said her school grades and sports participation deteriorated.

Kohlhepp was a "violent and vicious person" who shined a knife in the girl's face during the assault, they said in the records. They alleged he knew her age at the time and "had no sense of reality."

The 15-year-old Kohlhepp was an only child whose parents had divorced when he was 1 or 2, according to the records.

"He is not a bad boy" even though the crime was wrong, his mother said in a letter to the court.

Because her son walked his victim home after he raped her, "does that sound like a dangerous criminal?" she asked.

But she informed a probation officer that he was repeatedly mean to other children growing up, and both parents talked of his explosive anger:

* He put Clorox in a goldfish bowl when he wanted a gerbil as a pet but didn't receive one.

* He shot a dog with a BB gun.

* He was dismissed from Boy Scouts because he was deemed disruptive.

* He destroyed a remodeled bedroom with a hammer and wrecked other items in his childhood and adolescence from other children's projects, to models and a stereo that had been a gift.

Kohlhepp experienced emotional and behavioral problems since he was 15 months old, his mother said in a juvenile probation officer's report.

His father told a probation officer that the only emotion his son was capable of showing was anger.

He told his mother once that he wanted to live with his natural father, "and if he must kill her to get there, then that was what he was going to do," the records show. He came to hate both his stepfather and his father.

A neighbor reported Kohlhepp once locked her son in a dog kennel cage and then rolled him until her son was crying, according to the records. Kohlhepp just laughed.

A sign hangs Nov. 3, 2016, on a fence surrounding 95 acres that Todd Kohlhepp owns in Woodruff, N.C., where a woman was found chained inside a metal shipping container. (Photo: Lauren Petracca, The Greenville (S.C.) News)

In 1980, when Kohlhepp would have been 8 or 9 years old, he was admitted to a Georgia mental-health facility because of his mother's inability to enforce limits and his behavioral problems in school, according to a juvenile probation officer's report. He also appeared preoccupied with sex during his early sessions, though that decreased in time.

Evaluations described him as intelligent but with low motivation, poor self-esteem and anti-social personality characteristics. He once threatened suicide and experienced a hallucinatory episode.

"Behaviorally, he is demanding, self-centered and likely attempts to force others to do what he wants in order to meet his own needs," one report stated.

Then as a 15-year-old, he raped his neighbor.

Allowing Kohlhepp to plead guilty to a non-sexual crime was a "travesty of justice," an adult probation officer wrote in Kohlhepp's pre-sentencing report.

"It would appear that his behavior has been progressively worsening and now, it has escalated to the point where he has sexually assaulted an innocent child," wrote Kim Otto, deputy adult probation officer. "One can only speculate as to where the defendant's behavior will lead. It is this writer's opinion that it is this type of individual, one with little or no conscience, who presents the greatest risk to the community."
Contributing: Mike Ellis, Anderson (S.C.) Independent-Mail. Follow Tim Smith on Twitter: @tcsmith312

Two BMWs owned by registered sex offender Todd Kohlhepp are impounded Nov. 4, 2016, in Moore, S.C., after he was arrested earlier in the day. (Photo: John Byrum, AP)

Read or Share this story: http://usat.ly/2f3O5Af

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As teen in rape case, multiple murder suspect called 'devil on a chain'

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CLOSE COLUMBIA, S.C. - The decades-old court records of Todd Kohlhepp, charged Sunday in a 13-year-old South Carolina quadruple homicide and also accused of keeping a woman chained up in a shed for two months, paint him as a severely disturbed adolescent.

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What is the "Rape Culture?"

Rape Culture is an environment in which rape is prevalent and in which sexual violence against women is normalized and excused in the media and popular culture. Rape culture is perpetuated through the use of misogynistic language, the objectification of women's bodies, and the glamorization of sexual violence, thereby creating a society that disregards women's rights and safety.

Rape Culture affects every woman. The rape of one woman is a degradation, terror, and limitation to all women. Most women and girls limit their behavior because of the existence of rape. Most women and girls live in fear of rape. Men, in general, do not. That's how rape functions as a powerful means by which the whole female population is held in a subordinate position to the whole male population, even though many men don't rape, and many women are never victims of rape. This cycle of fear is the legacy of Rape Culture.

Examples of Rape Culture:

Blaming the victim ("She asked for it!")

Trivializing sexual assault ("Boys will be boys!")

Sexually explicit jokes

Tolerance of sexual harassment

Inflating false rape report statistics

Publicly scrutinizing a victim's dress, mental state, motives, and history

Gratuitous gendered violence in movies and television

Defining "manhood" as dominant and sexually aggressive

Defining "womanhood" as submissive and sexually passive

Pressure on men to "score"

Pressure on women to not appear "cold"

Assuming only promiscuous women get raped

Assuming that men don't get raped or that only "weak" men get raped

Refusing to take rape accusations seriously

Teaching women to avoid getting raped instead of teaching men not to rape

How can men and women combat Rape Culture?

Avoid using language that objectifies or degrades women

Speak out if you hear someone else making an offensive joke or trivializing rape

If a friend says she has been raped, take her seriously and be supportive

Think critically about the media's messages about women, men, relationships, and violence

Be respectful of others' physical space even in casual situations

Always communicate with sexual partners and do not assume consent

Define your own manhood or womanhood. Do not let stereotypes shape your actions.

Get involved! Join a student or community group working to end violence against women.

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Rape Culture is an environment in which rape is prevalent and in which sexual violence against women is normalized and excused in the media and popular culture. Rape culture is perpetuated through the use of misogynistic language, the objectification of women's bodies, and the glamorization of sexual violence, thereby creating a society that disregards women's rights and safety.

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As documentary filmmakers, husband-and-wife duo Bonni Cohen and Jon Shenk have seen some of the darkest sides of human nature. Cohen produced and directed Inside Guantanamo, while Shenk produced and directed Lost Boys of Sudan - neither of which are particularly light films. Yet it's their new documentary, Audrie & Daisy, a 2016 Sundance Film Festival selection about two teenage girls who were sexually assaulted, that Shenk calls "the most difficult film we had ever made."

Cohen and Shenk, who met in the 1990s as graduate students at the Stanford University documentary film program, knew they wanted their next project to be about sexual assault and its devastating aftermath, but were having a hard time finding the right story. That's when they came across Audrie Pott and Daisy Coleman. "As we started to dive deeper into them, they really seemed to speak to each other," Cohen says. "They're the same age, their assaults happened eight months apart across the country from each other in totally different kinds of communities. We started to think about the poetic resonance of having these two girls complete one story."

So for over two years, the duo filmed Daisy Coleman and members of her family as they dealt with both the trauma of her assault and the renunciation of their community. The Colemans were newcomers to the small town of Maryville, Missouri, where they moved from Albany, Missouri, after their father's death from a car accident. In January 2012, Daisy, then 14, and her 13-year-old friend Paige Parkhurst snuck out of a sleepover at Daisy's house to go to a party, where they were both sexually assaulted by her brother Charlie Coleman's older friends.

Daisy was unconscious during her assault by then 17-year-old student athlete Matthew Barnett, which was filmed by one of the perpetrators and reportedly shared among classmates. (The video of the assault has allegedly been deleted and never found by police.) After the assault, the boys returned the girls to Daisy's home; Paige made it inside, but Daisy was left lying unconscious on her front lawn in the cold, where she was discovered by her mother, Melinda Coleman, the next morning.

"We couldn't believe that was going on in our country."

Although the boys were arrested, the documentary describes how the town of Maryville closed rank, lashing out at Daisy and even Charlie with all the typical methods of victim blaming: the girls lied, they were looking for attention, they deserved what happened to them. Daisy in particular was taunted and harassed both in school and over social media, which the filmmakers animate on screen to give viewers the full extent of the viciousness of the harassment. She eventually left school, while Barnett - the grandson of a former state representative - pleaded guilty to a misdemeanor count of child endangerment. He was sentenced to two years of probation and a four-month suspended jail term. Melinda Coleman lost her job as a veterinarian in town and the family's home was set on fire; eventually, they moved out of Maryville entirely.

Attention from the hacktivist group Anonymous over Barnett's sentencing, and subsequent media coverage, meant the Colemans were initially skittish about participating in the documentary. But the filmmakers hoped that they could amplify the injustice suffered by the family. "The way it read in the aftermath of it, it felt like The Scarlet Letter," says Cohen. "This community just wanted to expel the family from within, torture them to the point where they had to leave town. We couldn't believe that was going on in our country."

Daisy, Melinda and Charlie all appear in the documentary to tell their stories - albeit cautiously. The filmmakers were wary of re-traumatizing Daisy, who has attempted to commit suicide at least three times. "We could see how much [Daisy] had been burned by the onslaught of media around the case," says Cohen. As such, they were committed to letting Daisy control her own narrative - which, as Shenk notes, was a matter of giving time to process what had happened. "We had moments where we showed up in Missouri and [Daisy] wouldn't come out of her bedroom and we'd sit in the production van waiting for her for a day," says Cohen of filming. "It was not always easy to gain her trust and her cooperation. But over time, I think she came to see the process of the filmmaking as part of her recovery."

The night of Daisy's assault is depicted in the film through her own drawings, which she made for the film with the help of a professional animator. "We brought her out to San Francisco and she met with an animator, an artist, who kind of took Daisy under her wing to kind of work with her - first on her sketches and then on the animation," says Cohen. "I think she felt really empowered by that, that her art was going to speak her truth."

Daisy Coleman's story dovetails with that of another young women on the other side of the country - only this one wasn't able to tell her own story in the documentary. In September 2012, 15-year-old Audrie Pott was unconscious at a party when three 16-year-old boys drew lewd messages on her half-naked body, digitally penetrated her and then took photographs, which were shared among classmates.

After the party, Audrie knew only that something bad had happened to her, but details were fuzzy. Feeling humiliated and panicked about her "reputation," she begged classmates to fill her in and to tell her who had the photos of her. Shortly after the incident, still age 15, she committed suicide.

"Over time, I think [Daisy] came to see the process of the filmmaking as part of her recovery."

Three teenage boys reached settlements with the Pott family following a wrongful death lawsuit. But unbeknownst to the filmmakers, the Potts also requested that two of the boys appear in the documentary - with their identities obscured - as part of the settlement.

"One day, we received a call completely out of the blue from the Pott family giving us the news they had settled the case with the perpetrators' families and that one of the stipulations in the settlement agreement was that the boys had agreed to a 45-minute interview for the documentary," explains Shenk. "Our reaction was complete shock." The filmmakers hadn't requested that the family do this and, in fact, they had to consider whether they wanted to take the opportunity presented to them to interview two of the boys. "As you can imagine, from a journalist's point of view, to suddenly have your process involved in the punishment of the crime, it was very odd," Shenk says.

After debating it for some time, the duo decided to include the boys' interviews in the documentary but to explain to the audience how the young men came about to participate.

"We felt like if we were transparent about it, then maybe we could glean something and maybe it would be important for the audience to hear from these guys," says Shenk, noting that "perpetrators are obviously unwilling, usually, to talk." The day that Audrie's assailants were filmed, Cohen says, was "the hardest day on production." She describes the two boys, who were about to head off to college, as "totally broken" by their crimes and by Audrie's suicide. In their interviews, Cohen says, "the hope was to get more of their own emotional process where they were in their lives. It was just very depressing and sad all the way around." That was in part because the filmmakers - who live in the Bay Area near where Audrie Pott lived - are the parents of teenagers themselves. "The combination of wanting to both cry and reach out to strangle them had to be suppressed in order to do the interview with journalistic and ethical consideration," Cohen says. "So, we had to swallow hard." Then, she added, "We just completely fell apart after the interview was over."

Audrie & Daisy is emotionally difficult to watch, yet it's a documentary the filmmakers hope parents will watch with their teenagers. They hope it will start a conversation between parents and their kids about about drinking, cyberbullying and consent. And there is plenty more to be said about truth, strength, and standing up for what is right. As Cohen said, "Daisy says now in Q&As with live audiences that she did this for Audrie. She wants to be able to speak out loud because Audrie can't anymore."

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Life After Sexual Assault: Inside Harrowing Doc 'Audrie & Daisy'

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As documentary filmmakers, husband-and-wife duo Bonni Cohen and Jon Shenk have seen some of the darkest sides of human nature. Cohen produced and directed Inside Guantanamo, while Shenk produced and directed Lost Boys of Sudan - neither of which are particularly light films. Yet it's their new documentary, Audrie & Daisy , a 2016 Sundance Film Festival selection about two teenage girls who were sexually assaulted, that Shenk calls "the most difficult film we had ever made."

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Brock Turner, a former Stanford University swimmer convicted of sexually assaulting an unconscious woman outside a fraternity house, has been released from prison after serving half a six-month sentence many condemned as being too lenient.

The latest development in a case that sparked outcry across the country, came at around 6am on Friday as Turner walked out of Santa Clara County jail in California after spending just three months behind bars. He said nothing to the media as he climbed into a white SUV. The 21-year-old told authorities he plans to live with his parents in his native Ohio, where he must register as a sex offender for life.

The case dominated the news amid allegations that the judge had imposed a lenient sentence because of Turner's status as a student at an elite university. The judge had sentenced him to six months, despite a powerful written statement delivered by his victim in which which she outlined the impact the attack had on her.
Read the victim's full impact statement:
Your honour,

If it is all right, for the majority of this statement I would like to address the defendant directly.

You don't know me, but you've been inside me, and that's why we're here today.

On January 17th, 2015, it was a quiet Saturday night at home. My dad made some dinner and I sat at the table with my younger sister who was visiting for the weekend. I was working full time and it was approaching my bed time. I planned to stay at home by myself, watch some TV and read, while she went to a party with her friends. Then, I decided it was my only night with her, I had nothing better to do, so why not, there's a dumb party ten minutes from my house, I would go, dance weird like a fool, and embarrass my younger sister. On the way there, I joked that undergrad guys would have braces. My sister teased me for wearing a beige cardigan to a frat party like a librarian. I called myself "big mama", because I knew I'd be the oldest one there. I made silly faces, let my guard down, and drank liquor too fast not factoring in that my tolerance had significantly lowered since college.

The next thing I remember I was in a gurney in a hallway. I had dried blood and bandages on the backs of my hands and elbow. I thought maybe I had fallen and was in an admin office on campus. I was very calm and wondering where my sister was. A deputy explained I had been assaulted. I still remained calm, assured he was speaking to the wrong person. I knew no one at this party. When I was finally allowed to use the restroom, I pulled down the hospital pants they had given me, went to pull down my underwear, and felt nothing. I still remember the feeling of my hands touching my skin and grabbing nothing. I looked down and there was nothing. The thin piece of fabric, the only thing between my vagina and anything else, was missing and everything inside me was silenced. I still don't have words for that feeling. In order to keep breathing, I thought maybe the policemen used scissors to cut them off for evidence.

Then, I felt pine needles scratching the back of my neck and started pulling them out my hair. I thought maybe, the pine needles had fallen from a tree onto my head. My brain was talking my gut into not collapsing. Because my gut was saying, help me, help me.

I shuffled from room to room with a blanket wrapped around me, pine needles trailing behind me, I left a little pile in every room I sat in. I was asked to sign papers that said "Rape Victim" and I thought something has really happened. My clothes were confiscated and I stood naked while the nurses held a ruler to various abrasions on my body and photographed them. The three of us worked to comb the pine needles out of my hair, six hands to fill one paper bag. To calm me down, they said it's just the flora and fauna, flora and fauna. I had multiple swabs inserted into my vagina and anus, needles for shots, pills, had a nikon pointed right into my spread legs. I had long, pointed beaks inside me and had my vagina smeared with cold, blue paint to check for abrasions.

After a few hours of this, they let me shower. I stood there examining my body beneath the stream of water and decided, I don't want my body anymore. I was terrified of it, I didn't know what had been in it, if it had been contaminated, who had touched it. I wanted to take off my body like a jacket and leave it at the hospital with everything else.

On that morning, all that I was told was that I had been found behind a dumpster, potentially penetrated by a stranger, and that I should get retested for HIV because results don't always show up immediately. But for now, I should go home and get back to my normal life. Imagine stepping back into the world with only that information. They gave me huge hugs, and then I walked out of the hospital into the parking lot wearing the new sweatshirt and sweatpants they provided me, as they had only allowed me to keep my necklace and shoes.

My sister picked me up, face wet from tears and contorted in anguish. Instinctively and immediately, I wanted to take away her pain. I smiled at her, I told her to look at me, I'm right here, I'm okay, everything's okay, I'm right here. My hair is washed and clean, they gave me the strangest shampoo, calm down, and look at me. Look at these funny new sweatpants and sweatshirt, I look like a P.E. teacher, let's go home, let's eat something. She did not know that beneath my sweats, I had scratches and bandages on my skin, my vagina was sore and had become a strange, dark color from all the prodding, my underwear was missing, and I felt too empty to continue to speak. That I was also afraid, that I was also devastated. That day we drove home and for hours my sister held me.

My boyfriend did not know what happened, but called that day and said, "I was really worried about you last night, you scared me, did you make it home okay?" I was horrified. That's when I learned I had called him that night in my blackout, left an incomprehensible voicemail, that we had also spoken on the phone, but I was slurring so heavily he was scared for me, that he repeatedly told me to go find my sister. Again, he asked me, "What happened last night? Did you make it home okay?" I said yes, and hung up to cry.

I was not ready to tell my boyfriend or parents that actually, I may have been raped behind a dumpster, but I don't know by who or when or how. If I told them, I would see the fear on their faces, and mine would multiply by tenfold, so instead I pretended the whole thing wasn't real.

I tried to push it out of my mind, but it was so heavy I didn't talk, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't interact with anyone. After work, I would drive to a secluded place to scream. I didn't talk, I didn't eat, I didn't sleep, I didn't interact with anyone, and I became isolated from the ones I loved most. For one week after the incident, I didn't get any calls or updates about that night or what happened to me. The only symbol that proved that it hadn't just been a bad dream, was the sweatshirt from the hospital in my drawer.

One day, I was at work, scrolling through the news on my phone, and came across an article. In it, I read and learned for the first time about how I was found unconscious, with my hair disheveled, long necklace wrapped around my neck, bra pulled out of my dress, dress pulled off over my shoulders and pulled up above my waist, that I was butt naked all the way down to my boots, legs spread apart, and had been penetrated by a foreign object by someone I did not recognize. This was how I learned what happened to me, sitting at my desk reading the news at work. I learned what happened to me the same time everyone else in the world learned what happened to me. That's when the pine needles in my hair made sense, they didn't fall from a tree. He had taken off my underwear, his fingers had been inside of me. I don't even know this person. I still don't know this person. When I read about me like this, I said, this can't be me.

This can't be me. I could not digest or accept any of this information. I could not imagine my family having to read about this online. I kept reading. In the next paragraph, I read something that I will never forgive; I read that according to him, I liked it. I liked it. Again, I do not have words for these feelings.

At the bottom of the article, after I learned about the graphic details of my own sexual assault, the article listed his swimming times. She was found breathing, unresponsive with her underwear six inches away from her bare stomach curled in fetal position. By the way, he's really good at swimming. Throw in my mile time if that's what we're doing. I'm good at cooking, put that in there, I think the end is where you list your extra-curriculars to cancel out all the sickening things that've happened.

The night the news came out I sat my parents down and told them that I had been assaulted, to not look at the news because it's upsetting, just know that I'm okay, I'm right here, and I'm okay. But halfway through telling them, my mom had to hold me because I could no longer stand up. I was not okay.

The night after it happened, he said he didn't know my name, said he wouldn't be able to identify my face in a lineup, didn't mention any dialogue between us, no words, only dancing and kissing. Dancing is a cute term; was it snapping fingers and twirling dancing, or just bodies grinding up against each other in a crowded room? I wonder if kissing was just faces sloppily pressed up against each other? When the detective asked if he had planned on taking me back to his dorm, he said no. When the detective asked how we ended up behind the dumpster, he said he didn't know. He admitted to kissing other girls at that party, one of whom was my own sister who pushed him away. He admitted to wanting to hook up with someone. I was the wounded antelope of the herd, completely alone and vulnerable, physically unable to fend for myself, and he chose me. Sometimes I think, if I hadn't gone, then this never would've happened. But then I realized, it would have happened, just to somebody else. You were about to enter four years of access to drunk girls and parties, and if this is the foot you started off on, then it is right you did not continue.

The night after it happened, he said he thought I liked it because I rubbed his back. A back rub. Never mentioned me voicing consent, never mentioned us speaking, a back rub.

One more time, in public news, I learned that my ass and vagina were completely exposed outside, my breasts had been groped, fingers had been jabbed inside me along with pine needles and debris, my bare skin and head had been rubbing against the ground behind a dumpster, while an erect freshman was humping my half naked, unconscious body. But I don't remember, so how do I prove I didn't like it.

I thought there's no way this is going to trial; there were witnesses, there was dirt in my body, he ran but was caught. He's going to settle, formally apologize, and we will both move on. Instead, I was told he hired a powerful attorney, expert witnesses, private investigators who were going to try and find details about my personal life to use against me, find loopholes in my story to invalidate me and my sister, in order to show that this sexual assault was in fact a misunderstanding. That he was going to go to any length to convince the world he had simply been confused.

I was not only told that I was assaulted, I was told that because I couldn't remember, I technically could not prove it was unwanted. And that distorted me, damaged me, almost broke me. It is the saddest type of confusion to be told I was assaulted and nearly raped, blatantly out in the open, but we don't know if it counts as assault yet. I had to fight for an entire year to make it clear that there was something wrong with this situation.

When I was told to be prepared in case we didn't win, I said, I can't prepare for that. He was guilty the minute I woke up. No one can talk me out of the hurt he caused me. Worst of all, I was warned, because he now knows you don't remember, he is going to get to write the script. He can say whatever he wants and no one can contest it. I had no power, I had no voice, I was defenseless. My memory loss would be used against me. My testimony was weak, was incomplete, and I was made to believe that perhaps, I am not enough to win this. That's so damaging. His attorney constantly reminded the jury, the only one we can believe is Brock, because she doesn't remember. That helplessness was traumatizing.

Instead of taking time to heal, I was taking time to recall the night in excruciating detail, in order to prepare for the attorney's questions that would be invasive, aggressive, and designed to steer me off course, to contradict myself, my sister, phrased in ways to manipulate my answers. Instead of his attorney saying, Did you notice any abrasions? He said, You didn't notice any abrasions, right? This was a game of strategy, as if I could be tricked out of my own worth. The sexual assault had been so clear, but instead, here I was at the trial, answering question like:

How old are you? How much do you weigh? What did you eat that day? Well what did you have for dinner? Who made dinner? Did you drink with dinner? No, not even water? When did you drink? How much did you drink? What container did you drink out of? Who gave you the drink? How much do you usually drink? Who dropped you off at this party? At what time? But where exactly? What were you wearing? Why were you going to this party? What'd you do when you got there? Are you sure you did that? But what time did you do that? What does this text mean? Who were you texting? When did you urinate? Where did you urinate? With whom did you urinate outside? Was your phone on silent when your sister called? Do you remember silencing it? Really because on page 53 I'd like to point out that you said it was set to ring. Did you drink in college? You said you were a party animal? How many times did you black out? Did you party at frats? Are you serious with your boyfriend? Are you sexually active with him? When did you start dating? Would you ever cheat? Do you have a history of cheating? What do you mean when you said you wanted to reward him? Do you remember what time you woke up? Were you wearing your cardigan? What color was your cardigan? Do you remember any more from that night? No? Okay, we'll let Brock fill it in.

I was pummeled with narrowed, pointed questions that dissected my personal life, love life, past life, family life, inane questions, accumulating trivial details to try and find an excuse for this guy who didn't even take the time to ask me for my name, who had me naked a handful of minutes after seeing me. After a physical assault, I was assaulted with questions designed to attack me, to say see, her facts don't line up, she's out of her mind, she's practically an alcoholic, she probably wanted to hook up, he's like an athlete right, they were both drunk, whatever, the hospital stuff she remembers is after the fact, why take it into account, Brock has a lot at stake so he's having a really hard time right now.

And then it came time for him to testify. This is where I became revictimized. I want to remind you, the night after it happened he said he never planned to take me back to his dorm. He said he didn't know why we were behind a dumpster. He got up to leave because he wasn't feeling well when he was suddenly chased and attacked. Then he learned I could not remember.

So one year later, as predicted, a new dialogue emerged. Brock had a strange new story, almost sounded like a poorly written young adult novel with kissing and dancing and hand holding and lovingly tumbling onto the ground, and most importantly in this new story, there was suddenly consent. One year after the incident, he remembered, oh yeah, by the way she actually said yes, to everything, so.

He said he had asked if I wanted to dance. Apparently I said yes. He'd asked if I wanted to go to his dorm, I said yes. Then he asked if he could finger me and I said yes. Most guys don't ask, Can I finger you? Usually there's a natural progression of things, unfolding consensually, not a Q and A. But apparently I granted full permission. He's in the clear.

Even in this story, there's barely any dialogue; I only said a total of three words before he had me half naked on the ground. I have never been penetrated after three words. He didn't claim to hear me speak one full sentence that night, so in the news when it says we "met", I'm not sure I would go so far as to say that. Future reference, if you are confused about whether a girl can consent, see if she can speak an entire sentence. You couldn't even do that. Just one coherent string of words. If she can't do that, then no. Don't touch her, just no. Not maybe, just no. Where was the confusion? This is common sense, human decency.

According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don't take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that's why she wore the cardigan. If her bare ass and legs are rubbing the pinecones and needles, while the weight of you pushes into her, get off her.

Next in the story, two people approached you. You ran because you said you felt scared. I argue that you were scared because you'd be caught, not because you were scared of two terrifying Swedish grad students. The idea that you thought you were being attacked out of the blue was ludicrous. That it had nothing to do with you being on top my unconscious body. You were caught red handed, with no explanation. When they tackled you why didn't [you] say, "Stop! Everything's okay, go ask her, she's right over there, she'll tell you." I mean you had just asked for my consent, right? I was awake, right? When the policeman arrived and interviewed the evil Swede who tackled you, he was crying so hard he couldn't speak because of what he'd seen. Also, if you really did think they were dangerous, you just abandoned a half-naked girl to run and save yourself. No matter which way you frame it, it doesn't make sense.

Your attorney has repeatedly pointed out, well we don't know exactly when she became unconscious. And you're right, maybe I was still fluttering my eyes and wasn't completely limp yet, fine. His guilt did not depend on him knowing the exact second that I became unconscious, that is never what this was about. I was slurring, too drunk to consent way before I was on the ground. I should have never been touched in the first place. Brock stated, "At no time did I see that she was not responding. If at any time I thought she was not responding, I would have stopped immediately." Here's the thing; if your plan was to stop only when I was literally unresponsive, then you still do not understand. You didn't even stop when I was unconscious anyway! Someone else stopped you. Two guys on bikes noticed I wasn't moving in the dark and had to tackle you. How did you not notice while on top of me?

You said, you would have stopped and gotten help. You say that, but I want you to explain how you would've helped me, step by step, walk me through this. I want to know, if those evil Swedes had not found me, how the night would have played out. I am asking you; Would you have pulled my underwear back on over my boots? Untangled the necklace wrapped around my neck? Closed my legs, covered me? Tucked my bra back into my dress? Would you have helped me pick the needles from my hair? Asked if the abrasions on my neck and bottom hurt? Would you then go find a friend and say, Will you help me get her somewhere warm and soft? I don't sleep when I think about the way it could have gone if the Swedes had never come. What would have happened to me? That's what you'll never have a good answer for, that's what you can't explain even after a year.

To sit under oath and inform all of us, that yes I wanted it, yes I permitted it, and that you are the true victim attacked by guys for reasons unknown to you is sick, is demented, is selfish, is stupid. It shows that you were willing to go to any length, to discredit me, invalidate me, and explain why it was okay to hurt me. You tried unyieldingly to save yourself, your reputation, at my expense.

My family had to see pictures of my head strapped to a gurney full of pine needles, of my body in the dirt with my eyes closed, dress hiked up, limbs limp in the dark. And then even after that, my family had to listen to your attorney say, the pictures were after the fact, we can dismiss them. To say, yes her nurse confirmed there was redness and abrasions inside her, but that's what happens when you finger someone, and he's already admitted to that. To listen to him use my own sister against me. To listen him attempt to paint of a picture of me, the seductive party animal, as if somehow that would make it so that I had this coming for me. To listen to him say I sounded drunk on the phone because I'm silly and that's my goofy way of speaking. To point out that in the voicemail, I said I would reward my boyfriend and we all know what I was thinking. I assure you my rewards program is non-transferable, especially to any nameless man that approaches me.

The point is, this is everything my family and I endured during the trial. This is everything I had to sit through silently, taking it, while he shaped the evening. It is enough to be suffering. It is another thing to have someone ruthlessly working to diminish the gravity and validity of this suffering. But in the end, his unsupported statements and his attorney's twisted logic fooled no one. The truth won, the truth spoke for itself.

You are guilty. Twelve jurors convicted you guilty of three felony counts beyond reasonable doubt, that's twelve votes per count, thirty-six yeses confirming guilt, that's one hundred percent, unanimous guilt. And I thought finally it is over, finally he will own up to what he did, truly apologize, we will both move on and get better. Then I read your statement.

If you are hoping that one of my organs will implode from anger and I will die, I'm almost there. You are very close. Assault is not an accident. This is not a story of another drunk college hookup with poor decision making. Somehow, you still don't get it. Somehow, you still sound confused.

I will now take this opportunity to read portions of the defendant's statement and respond to them.

You said, Being drunk I just couldn't make the best decisions and neither could she.

Alcohol is not an excuse. Is it a factor? Yes. But alcohol was not the one who stripped me, fingered me, had my head dragging against the ground, with me almost fully naked. Having too much to drink was an amateur mistake that I admit to, but it is not criminal. Everyone in this room has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much, or knows someone close to them who has had a night where they have regretted drinking too much. Regretting drinking is not the same as regretting sexual assault. We were both drunk, the difference is I did not take off your pants and underwear, touch you inappropriately, and run away. That's the difference.

You said, If I wanted to get to know her, I should have asked for her number, rather than asking her to go back to my room.

I'm not mad because you didn't ask for my number. Even if you did know me, I would not want [to] be in this situation. My own boyfriend knows me, but if he asked to finger me behind a dumpster, I would slap him. No girl wants to be in this situation. Nobody. I don't care if you know their phone number or not.

You said, I stupidly thought it was okay for me to do what everyone around me was doing, which was drinking. I was wrong.

Again, you were not wrong for drinking. Everyone around you was not sexually assaulting me. You were wrong for doing what nobody else was doing, which was pushing your erect dick in your pants against my naked, defenseless body concealed in a dark area, where partygoers could no longer see or protect me, and own my sister could not find me. Sipping fireball is not your crime. Peeling off and discarding my underwear like a candy wrapper to insert your finger into my body, is where you went wrong. Why am I still explaining this.

You said, During the trial I didn't want to victimize her at all. That was just my attorney and his way of approaching the case.

Your attorney is not your scapegoat, he represents you. Did your attorney say some incredulously infuriating, degrading things? Absolutely. He said you had an erection, because it was cold. I have no words.

You said, you are in the process of establishing a program for high school and college students in which you speak about your experience to "speak out against the college campus drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that."

Speak out against campus drinking culture. That's what we're speaking out against? You think that's what I've spent the past year fighting for? Not awareness about campus sexual assault, or rape, or learning to recognize consent. Campus drinking culture. Down with Jack Daniels. Down with Skyy Vodka. If you want talk to high school kids about drinking go to an AA meeting. You realize, having a drinking problem is different than drinking and then forcefully trying to have sex with someone? Show men how to respect women, not how to drink less.

Drinking culture and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Goes along with that, like a side effect, like fries on the side of your order. Where does promiscuity even come into play? I don't see headlines that read, Brock Turner, Guilty of drinking too much and the sexual promiscuity that goes along with that. Campus [Sexual] Assault. There's your first powerpoint slide.

I have done enough explaining. You do not get to shrug your shoulders and be confused anymore. You do not get to pretend that there were no red flags. You do not get to not know why you ran. You have been convicted of violating me with malicious intent, and all you can admit to is consuming alcohol. Do not talk about the sad way your life was upturned because alcohol made you do bad things. Figure out how to take responsibility for your own conduct.

Lastly you said, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin a life.

Ruin a life, one life, yours, you forgot about mine. Let me rephrase for you, I want to show people that one night of drinking can ruin two lives. You and me. You are the cause, I am the effect. You have dragged me through this hell with you, dipped me back into that night again and again. You knocked down both our towers, I collapsed at the same time you did. Your damage was concrete; stripped of titles, degrees, enrollment. My damage was internal, unseen, I carry it with me. You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.

See one thing we have in common is that we were both unable to get up in the morning. I am no stranger to suffering. You made me a victim. In newspapers my name was "unconscious intoxicated woman", ten syllables, and nothing more than that. For a while, I believed that that was all I was. I had to force myself to relearn my real name, my identity. To relearn that this is not all that I am. That I am not just a drunk victim at a frat party found behind a dumpster, while you are the All-American swimmer at a top university, innocent until proven guilty, with so much at stake. I am a human being who has been irreversibly hurt, who waited a year to figure out if I was worth something.

My independence, natural joy, gentleness, and steady lifestyle I had been enjoying became distorted beyond recognition. I became closed off, angry, self-deprecating, tired, irritable, empty. The isolation at times was unbearable. You cannot give me back the life I had before that night either. While you worry about your shattered reputation, I refrigerated spoons every night so when I woke up, and my eyes were puffy from crying, I would hold the spoons to my eyes to lessen the swelling so that I could see. I showed up an hour late to work every morning, excused myself to cry in the stairwells, I can tell you all the best places in that building to cry where no one can hear you, the pain became so bad that I had to tell my boss I was leaving, I needed time because continuing day to day was not possible. I used my savings to go as far away as I could possibly be.

I can't sleep alone at night without having a light on, like a five year old, because I have nightmares of being touched where I cannot wake up, I did this thing where I waited until the sun came up and I felt safe enough to sleep. For three months, I went to bed at six o'clock in the morning.

I used to pride myself on my independence, now I am afraid to go on walks in the evening, to attend social events with drinking among friends where I should be comfortable being. I have become a little barnacle always needing to be at someone's side, to have my boyfriend standing next to me, sleeping beside me, protecting me. It is embarrassing how feeble I feel, how timidly I move through life, always guarded, ready to defend myself, ready to be angry.

You have no idea how hard I have worked to rebuild parts of me that are still weak. It took me eight months to even talk about what happened. I could no longer connect with friends, with everyone around me. I would scream at my boyfriend, my own family whenever they brought this up. You never let me forget what happened to me. At the of end of the hearing, the trial, I was too tired to speak. I would leave drained, silent. I would go home turn off my phone and for days I would not speak. You bought me a ticket to a planet where I lived by myself. Every time a new article [would] come out, I lived with the paranoia that my entire hometown would find out and know me as the girl who got assaulted. I didn't want anyone's pity and am still learning to accept victim as part of my identity. You made my own hometown an uncomfortable place to be.

Someday, you can pay me back for my ambulance ride and therapy. But you cannot give me back my sleepless nights. The way I have broken down sobbing uncontrollably if I'm watching a movie and a woman is harmed, to say it lightly, this experience has expanded my empathy for other victims. I have lost weight from stress, when people would comment I told them I've been running a lot lately. There are times I did not want to be touched. I have to relearn that I am not fragile, I am capable, I am wholesome, not just livid and weak.

I want to say this. All the crying, the hurting you have imposed on me, I can take it. But when I see my younger sister hurting, when she is unable to keep up in school, when she is deprived of joy, when she is not sleeping, when she is crying so hard on the phone she is barely breathing, telling me over and over she is sorry for leaving me alone that night, sorry sorry sorry, when she feels more guilt than you, then I do not forgive you. That night I had called her to try and find her, but you found me first. Your attorney's closing statement began, "My sister said she was fine and who knows her better than her sister." You tried to use my own sister against me. Your points of attack were so weak, so low, it was almost embarrassing. You do not touch her.

If you think I was spared, came out unscathed, that today I ride off into sunset, while you suffer the greatest blow, you are mistaken. Nobody wins. We have all been devastated, we have all been trying to find some meaning in all of this suffering.

You should have never done this to me. Secondly, you should have never made me fight so long to tell you, you should have never done this to me. But here we are. The damage is done, no one can undo it. And now we both have a choice. We can let this destroy us, I can remain angry and hurt and you can be in denial, or we can face it head on, I accept the pain, you accept the punishment, and we move on.

Your life is not over, you have decades of years ahead to rewrite your story. The world is huge, it is so much bigger than Palo Alto and Stanford, and you will make a space for yourself in it where you can be useful and happy. Right now your name is tainted, so I challenge you to make a new name for yourself, to do something so good for the world, it blows everyone away. You have a brain and a voice and a heart. Use them wisely. You possess immense love from your family. That alone can pull you out of anything. Mine has held me up through all of this. Yours will hold you and you will go on.

I believe, that one day, you will understand all of this better. I hope you will become a better more honest person who can properly use this story to prevent another story like this from ever happening again. I fully support your journey to healing, to rebuilding your life, because that is the only way you'll begin to help others.

Now to address the sentencing. When I read the probation officer's report, I was in disbelief, consumed by anger which eventually quieted down to profound sadness. My statements have been slimmed down to distortion and taken out of context. I fought hard during this trial and will not have the outcome minimized by a probation officer who attempted to evaluate my current state and my wishes in a fifteen minute conversation, the majority of which was spent answering questions I had about the legal system. The context is also important. Brock had yet to issue a statement, and I had not read his remarks.

My life has been on hold for over a year, a year of anger, anguish and uncertainty, until a jury of my peers rendered a judgment that validated the injustices I had endured. Had Brock admitted guilt and remorse and offered to settle early on, I would have considered a lighter sentence, respecting his honesty, grateful to be able to move our lives forward. Instead he took the risk of going to trial, added insult to injury and forced me to relive the hurt as details about my personal life and sexual assault were brutally dissected before the public. He pushed me and my family through a year of inexplicable, unnecessary suffering, and should face the consequences of challenging his crime, of putting my pain into question, of making us wait so long for justice.

I told the probation officer I do not want Brock to rot away in prison. I did not say he does not deserve to be behind bars. The probation officer's recommendation of a year or less in county jail is a soft time-out, a mockery of the seriousness of his assaults, and of the consequences of the pain I have been forced to endure. I also told the probation officer that what I truly wanted was for Brock to get it, to understand and admit to his wrongdoing.

Unfortunately, after reading the defendant's statement, I am severely disappointed and feel that he has failed to exhibit sincere remorse or responsibility for his conduct. I fully respected his right to a trial, but even after twelve jurors unanimously convicted him guilty of three felonies, all he has admitted to doing is ingesting alcohol. Someone who cannot take full accountability for his actions does not deserve a mitigating sentence. It is deeply offensive that he would try and dilute rape with a suggestion of promiscuity. By definition rape is the absence of promiscuity, rape is the absence of consent, and it perturbs me deeply that he can't even see that distinction.

The probation officer factored in that the defendant is youthful and has no prior convictions. In my opinion, he is old enough to know what he did was wrong. When you are eighteen in this country you can go to war. When you are nineteen, you are old enough to pay the consequences for attempting to rape someone. He is young, but he is old enough to know better.

As this is a first offense I can see where leniency would beckon. On the other hand, as a society, we cannot forgive everyone's first sexual assault or digital rape. It doesn't make sense. The seriousness of rape has to be communicated clearly, we should not create a culture that suggests we learn that rape is wrong through trial and error. The consequences of sexual assault needs to be severe enough that people feel enough fear to exercise good judgment even if they are drunk, severe enough to be preventative. The fact that Brock was a star athlete at a prestigious university should not be seen as an entitlement to leniency, but as an opportunity to send a strong cultural message that sexual assault is against the law regardless of social class.

The probation officer weighed the fact that he has surrendered a hard earned swimming scholarship. If I had been sexually assaulted by an un-athletic guy from a community college, what would his sentence be? If a first time offender from an underprivileged background was accused of three felonies and displayed no accountability for his actions other than drinking, what would his sentence be? How fast he swims does not lessen the impact of what happened to me.

The Probation Officer has stated that this case, when compared to other crimes of similar nature, may be considered less serious due to the defendant's level of intoxication. It felt serious. That's all I'm going to say.

He is a lifetime sex registrant. That doesn't expire. Just like what he did to me doesn't expire, doesn't just go away after a set number of years. It stays with me, it's part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life.

A year has gone by and he has had lots of time on his hands. Has he been seeing a psychologist? What has he done in this past year to show he's been progressing? If he says he wants to implement programs, what has he done to show for it?

Throughout incarceration I hope he is provided with appropriate therapy and resources to rebuild his life. I request that he educates himself about the issue of campus sexual assault. I hope he accepts proper punishment and pushes himself to reenter society as a better person.

To conclude, I want to say thank you. To everyone from the intern who made me oatmeal when I woke up at the hospital that morning, to the deputy who waited beside me, to the nurses who calmed me, to the detective who listened to me and never judged me, to my advocates who stood unwaveringly beside me, to my therapist who taught me to find courage in vulnerability, to my boss for being kind and understanding, to my incredible parents who teach me how to turn pain into strength, to my friends who remind me how to be happy, to my boyfriend who is patient and loving, to my unconquerable sister who is the other half of my heart, to Alaleh, my idol, who fought tirelessly and never doubted me. Thank you to everyone involved in the trial for their time and attention. Thank you to girls across the nation that wrote cards to my DA to give to me, so many strangers who cared for me.

Most importantly, thank you to the two men who saved me, who I have yet to meet. I sleep with two bicycles that I drew taped above my bed to remind myself there are heroes in this story. That we are looking out for one another. To have known all of these people, to have felt their protection and love, is something I will never forget.

And finally, to girls everywhere, I am with you. On nights when you feel alone, I am with you. When people doubt you or dismiss you, I am with you. I fought everyday for you. So never stop fighting, I believe you. Lighthouses don't go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining. Although I can't save every boat, I hope that by speaking today, you absorbed a small amount of light, a small knowing that you can't be silenced, a small satisfaction that justice was served, a small assurance that we are getting somewhere, and a big, big knowing that you are important, unquestionably, you are untouchable, you are beautiful, you are to be valued, respected, undeniably, every minute of every day, you are powerful and nobody can take that away from you. To girls everywhere, I am with you. Thank you.

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Read the extraordinary statement of Brock Turner's victim

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Brock Turner, a former Stanford University swimmer convicted of sexually assaulting an unconscious woman outside a fraternity house, has been released from prison after serving half a six-month sentence many condemned as being too lenient.

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Sexual Misconduct | Southern Connecticut State University

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Southern Connecticut State University is concerned about the safety of all University community members. Sexual harassment and sexual violence (sexual assault, domestic violence, dating violence, stalking, and sexual exploitation) are not acceptable behaviors in our community and are violations of the law, University policies and Student Code of Conduct.