I was raped.
And I’m now a publisher/editor of a magazine.
The former should not dictate decisions on whether to disclose the name of an alleged rape victim.
The latter should not exploit for personal gain any occurrence of the former.
But it does.
Although more than 20 years ago, the scars are still present, although less pronounced.
I don’t scream bloody murder if someone unexpectedly comes up behind me. But I still jump, or tense up.
I don’t need a light on to sleep.
I don’t check the doors over and over to make sure they’re locked, and the locks work perfectly. Click, click. Click, click.
I can take a walk at night … on well-lit streets.
And I don’t act like a person on the edge when someone makes an idiot joke about rape.
What never goes away …
I’m less trusting.
I cannot live on the first floor of anything and prefer high rise to house.
Hit now, question later, is my motto.
And I’m not as stupid and naïve when it comes to ‘looks.’ Your damn daddy could be a rapist under the wrong circumstances.
I was raped.
And even though I don’t feel shame, I did for a long time. Like affirmative action, liberal, right wing, HIV, and so many others, we have a visceral reaction when the word is said. There is a stigma of damaged goods. Your character is questioned. False assumptions are made. Ignorance is shown.
I was raped.
And states protect my identity during criminal trials, and usually civil trials.
And newspapers protect my identity unless I choose to make that information public.
And television stations black-dot my face.
And critics on both sides of the argument make compelling arguments for disclosure and nondisclosure. And because the judge in the Kobe Bryant alleged rape case ruled the accuser must disclose her identity for the civil trial, the issue of whether to report an accuser’s name or not, is again being argued.
The main argument for not disclosing is well known – in addition to being a violent act “It is also deeply personal, deeply wounding and psychologically damaging … what sort of agony would it be to hear your intimate anatomy and other details of your assault openly discussed while your name and picture are slathered across newspapers and television screens? It’s not about stigma; it’s about sanity.” Kathleen Parker, Town Hall, August 11, 2003
On the other side, arguing for disclosure, there is no greater advocate than Geneva Overholser1, who recently resigned from the Poynter Institute when they chose to excise the name of Kobe’s accuser from her article. Ms. Overholser argues now, as she did when she was the editor of the Des Moines Register, that the media should disclose – with or without the accuser’s consent.
“On all the tough problems, from AIDS to teen suicide to drug addiction to priests who abuse children, society has made progress when the truth is told. When real people talk about real experiences. When names are named. What fundamental elements of good journalism these are: Getting at issues that most people prefer not be dealt with. And naming names is an essential part of the commitment to accuracy.1”
Ms Overholser goes on to argue, using the Kobe Bryant case, which our culture has changed. With so many sources of information (radio, the internet, cable), for mainstream media to stick to a policy of not disclosing the accuser’s name is an outdated policy and conceited.
“When the accuser is not named it gives the media liberty to say things about the person.”
In 1991, during the William Kennedy Smith rape trial, the Columbia Journalism Review (July/August 1991) gave four reasons why the accuser’s name should be disclosed.
“First, we are in the business of disseminating news, not suppressing it. Second, producers and editors and news directors should make editorial decisions; editorial decisions should not be made in courtrooms, or legislatures, or briefing rooms — or by persons involved in the news. Third, by not naming rape victims we are part of a conspiracy of silence, and that silence is bad for viewers and readers. In reinforces the idea that somehow there is something shameful about being raped. Fourth, and finally, there is an issue of fairness. I heard no debate in our newsroom and heard of no debate in other newsrooms on whether we should name the suspect.”
A comment on the Talk Left.com board (August 7, 2003), went further …
“Not identifying rape “victims” presupposes that the accusation is true – i.e., that the accuser actually is a “victim.” That presupposition flies in the face of the presumption of innocence … If the media would stop forgetting about the presumption of innocence, it would be more likely to treat accusers in sexual assault cases the same way it treats accusers in every other case – by identifying them so that the public has the benefit of learning all the facts that are in the public realm.”
And a survey of some BBS.com readers divided pretty much 50/50 for and against disclosure. Those for argued, ‘others in the media were going to do it’, ‘the rape or violence is not the issue’, and ‘now that she has whimped out of (the trial), and is now going for the big money, most of us feel a lot less sympathetic towards her plight.”
Against disclosure the main theme was “why do we need to know her name?”
And that one question resonated in changing my decision to disclose the name of Kobe’s accuser.
Couldn’t most stories, which have no direct or tangible indirect affect on anyone but the parties involved, be told without using names?
When a story involves people we do not personally know or public figures or a ‘scandalous’ situation, do we even remember the names two days later?
Is our desire to know Kobe’s accuser’s name any more than a salacious need for and to gossip – “Just tell me her damn name. Like it will make a difference in our lives.”
So to the argument that not disclosing an accuser’s name makes journalists part of a conspiracy of silence – bullcrap, and it is the height of hypocrisy. Journalists thrive on conspiracies of silence when they protect a source even when nondisclosure harms others, and/or prevents a full airing of truth. Even when knowing who is the source, what their biases are, what decisions they have made, and why they are a source would be ‘fair’ to the other side. Bullcrap.
For the disclosure advocates ‘strongest argument’ – not disclosing the name of the accuser gives a presumption of guilt to the accused – ah if it were only so. How many members of the media wrote stories which leaned toward the ‘poor Kobe, rich athlete being accused of rape.’ How many of us after the Eagle County prosecutors dropped the case said ‘poor Kobe, being accused of rape and now unable to show (not prove) he’s innocent.’ Even since the release of Kobe’s statement to Eagle County police which definitely shows a more ‘I ain’t no poster boy’ side of the NBA star and should make one wonder about his potential guilt, how many still see the young woman as ‘easy,’ ‘a whore,’ ‘that white girl.’ For ever stain of guilt he carries, the accuser has been painted too.
And finally address Ms. Overholser’s argument that disclosure will help us talk more about a subject we’re reticent to bring up – knowing that over one hundred thousand women are raped each year in just this country should be enough truth and real experience for us to dialogue on the subject of rape. Naming one woman, or two women, or all the women will not improve or strengthen a discussion of rape.
A rape accuser choosing to disclose his/her name, choosing to become an advocate on the subject of violence, choosing to put a name on the face of this horrific crime makes a statement. Makes a statement in the same way as the brutalized face of Emmett Till, a young black teen who was murdered ‘for disrespecting a white woman’ during the civil rights movement. His face lying in the casket showed all the horrors of Jim Crow and racism and white supremacy acts. His face. Not his name. His face. By choice
I was raped.
And I was prepared to disclose the name of Kobe Bryant’s accuser in the pages of this magazine because someone else disclosed it.
But I won’t.
Not until it becomes essential to the facts of the story – a woman may have been raped. And if she were the biggest ‘ho in town, ‘no would still mean no.’
Not until she chooses, and putting your name on a civil suit because you are so ordered by the court, is not choice.
In fact, it’s force.
An exercise of power.
Another rape.
I was raped.
But my name is not important unless I choose to advocate on the subject.
I was raped.
My name is A. Renee’ West
1 Washington Post, December 7, 2000
