Is Rape a Crime?: A Memoir, an Investigation, and a Manifesto

by Michelle Bowdler

they encounter or may already know someone who has been sexually assaulted.

When trauma is not acknowledged, the behaviors associated with it can be acted out on victims, making their experien...

Psychological trauma in law enforcement personnel is a possible contributing factor to, but does not excuse, the ...

The reality in many cases is not what the rape survivor imagined. I know that was true for me.

It became

clear that what the police did or did not do on my behalf was a major factor in how pervasively this life-changing experience affected me.

This community-facing message that law enforcement is taking special care to address and solve sex crimes by creating special victims units means little when not accompanied by substantive information about officer training or how the success of these units is assessed.

then it strikes me that they are more of a public relations strategy than a vehicle for actionable change.

Why should today be any different than last night? Doing as I was told saved my life. I figure it’s my strategy for the immediate future.

DNA technology eventually advanced, but this did not prevent rape cases from going uninvestigated and rape kits from being shelved in warehouses, police departments, and crime labs without forensic testing.

I know she hasn’t adjusted to how much I’ve changed: I meet a bunch of lesbians in college, come out, and now seem to relish living in squalor.

We should have felt like allies, working toward the same goal. Instead, I felt like a criminal being interrogated and they held all the power.

Some people never report; some never tell their family or friends. The reasons are complex and vary depending on the survivor’s age, economic situation, internalized self-blame and shame, and whether it is safe to report the crime at the most basic level.

Approximately 80 percent of victims know their attacker,

In fact, there are many reasons why individuals wait to report crimes, including the disturbing statistic that more than 30 percent of victims are between the ages of eleven and seventeen at the time they were raped5—when the impact of the trauma is even more severe and

telling an adult may be unsafe or impossible. Sometimes, a victim can only make a claim years later, when they are in a safe environment and have had time to heal from the trauma.

Instead, critics should focus on evaluating the law enforcement options available to victims.

Victims risk additional trauma if they enter the criminal justice system. Low reporting numbers also reflect, in part, increased awareness that reporting sexual assault so rarely leads to an investigation, arrest, or conviction and that

many experience their interactions with law enforcement as additionally traumatizing.

Our focus should be on improving the experience of seeking justice rather than asking victims to enter a flawed and

harmful process.

At this moment, I am unaware of just how problematic and additionally traumatizing seeking justice has been for other victims of sex crimes.

He looks in the direction of the noise and then at me. “Just like a woman, can’t keep her mouth shut.”

He smiles broadly at his joke.

A week ago, a former version of me would have gotten up and effortlessly engaged this man in a discussion about misogyny, power, and politics.

While an undergraduate at Brandeis University and immersed in feminist politics, I had studied rape’s political context—rape as power, rape as misogyny, rape as weapon of war—but not its significant impact on individuals.

“When people make the word unspeakable, it makes victims feel like they shouldn’t talk about it. If even the police can’t say it in a bulletin, what does that tell us?” my friend Julie said.

People can’t evaluate their risk when you’re so vague. What about that word scares you so much?” We shouted at the dean over one another, and he let us go without even a warning.

What can I possibly say that would make a difference to a person who would make a joke like that to someone who had just been raped—a joke that categorizes all women as loud and annoying, unaware of the space we take up and effortlessly

compared to dogs? How dare we be so noisy! How dare we have a voice!

Rather, it was the experience at the police station offering my fingertips to law enforcement, hoping it would help them in their investigation. I expected more from them, and I needed more from them. I went to the “good guys” to help get the “bad guys,” and there was no help to be found.

“What we need to do is get the

city of Boston to provide more education to men to get them to start thinking about what violence against women really is.”

The problems begin when police see the victim first as a “case” rather than as a human being who’s been violently harmed during a felony.

If they believe their jobs are to investigate sex crimes, not only will more rape cases likely be solved but also victims’ experience engaging with law enforcement will improve.

If sexual assault survivors don’t feel seen or believed by those whose job it is to serve and protect citizens and investigate crimes, they will conclude the crimes committed against them are of no import to law enforcement or anyone else, for that matter.

“Okay, honey; that’s easy. I’ll do that, of course. And, I’ll call you tomorrow,” she says.

The multiple daily calls slow within a few weeks, and I’m again able to concentrate on the massive effort it takes to wake up each morning.

Victims of violence generally do not desire additional violence to feel better.

Walking in high heels—a stereotypical symbol of female

attire—will not help men understand the high risk of experiencing violence that women face over their lifetimes or its impact.

Yet for almost twenty years, these walks have occurred in multiple cities, often sponsored by police departments and universities. It may not be harmful, but it’s not effective.

At the 2015 Grammy Awards, Obama said, “Nearly one in five women in America has experienced rape or attempted rape and more than one in four women have experienced some form of domestic violence. It’s not okay and it has to stop.”

A cameo at the Grammys allowed only a sound bite and nothing more serious.

I found it complicated in those early days to figure out how to separate the entire male species from male perpetration.

I both craved and feared male companionship. It wasn’t practical to hide from half the population, and I needed a reminder of men’s potential for kindness beyond Emmy’s husband—sweet, gentle Steve—whom I considered an anomaly.

After I am attacked in my home, I dream of him most nights and crave his return.

I thought, given the generosity it must have taken to tell me his story, I owed Isaac at least that much.

In the immediate aftermath of the attack, I didn’t find talking all that useful. Nothing will undo this was my constant internal refrain.

“Try not to make it so hard for someone to be let in on what you’re going through,” one of the group members had said.