The chief complaint varies: “STI testing”, “pregnancy test”, “GYN problem”. It’s not until I enter the exam room and see my patient, eyes downcast and voice in a near-whisper, that the real reason for the visit becomes clear.
Apparently, it continues to be open season on questioning the legitimacy of the sexual assault epidemic. This time, it was the Wall Street Journal that decided the world needed yet another article blaming women for their own rape. So brave, WSJ! It’s about time someone stood up for those poor accused assailants.
I mean, it’s not like assault survivors have had their trauma minimized and dismissed for years – er, decades – wait, no, EONS now or anything. “She was drunk, so she was asking for it” is today’s “she was wearing a short skirt, so she was asking for it”, which is really just another version of “she’s female, so she’s always, somehow, asking for it”.
In case you missed it, the numbers around rape in college are pretty insane: approximately 1 out of every 4 to 5 college women will experience sexual assault at some point while they’re in school. Numbers like this are hard to ignore; a incidence rate of 20-25% must meet epidemic criteria by pretty much anyone’s standards. But rather than saying “holy crap, we need to do something about this”, some people prefer to respond to these numbers by questioning their legitimacy, citing evidence that assaults involving college students often involve alcohol — ergo and therefore = not-rape.
If you’re one of these people, a question: have you, or anyone you know, ever actually been to college? You know, that place where day-that-ends-in-Y is cause for celebratory drinking? Where the next generation’s ingenuity is expressed through the laborious construction of elaborate snow-carved beer pong tables? Where it’s often harder to find an event WITHOUT alcohol involved than with?
In other words, yeah, binge drinking in college is a legit problem. I’ve seen more injured wrists and broken collarbones than I’d care to admit due to the ubiquitousness of college alcohol use. But part of being a young adult living on your own for the first time sometimes means figuring things out the hard way – like how to consume alcohol responsibly, without the puking and blackouts. Today’s monster hangover paves the way for tomorrow’s dignified glass of Malbec (or three) with dinner. We’ve all been there. I know I have.
Which is why I see myself in the eyes of my patients. The ones who come to the clinic after a night where yeah, maybe they had too much to drink, but that didn’t mean they planned, or deserved, to wake up too-early the next morning, dawn not quite ready to breach the horizon, in an unfamiliar room, clothes and hours unaccounted for. In pain.
There is no amount of alcohol, no level of intoxication, that justifies assault.
If you think that the real epidemic is one of morning-after-regret-turned-false-accusations, spend some time with me at work. Look in my patients’ eyes as they struggle to tell their stories. And know that you, and others like you, are part of the reason that most of them will never file a formal report, no matter how many ways I talk to them about their rights, and resources, and recourse. All they can handle, in that moment, is a modicum of damage control: please, just tell me what I can do, what I need to do, to be okay.
Today, all I can offer is damage control – antibiotics, EC, labs, lots of counseling. But tomorrow, I’m hoping for more. I’m hoping I’ll stop waking up to rape apologia in the mainstream news. I’m hoping that the socially accepted definition of consent will shift from an absence of “no” to an enthusiastic “YES!”
Because eventually, I’m hoping that the gradual elimination of rape culture (eternal optimist that I am) will mean that I get to spend more time focusing on the more mundane aspects of a career in college health: strep tests, ankle sprains and contraception.