Know My Name: A Memoir

by Chanel Miller

People were confounded that I had failed to protect myself.

Was I crazy? Was I exaggerating? Was this even sad?

suddenly I was delusional over how much I was expected to tolerate.

raise my right hand to be sworn in. I said, I do. Words I thought I’d speak first at my wedding, not my rape trial.

I wondered if they were surprised I was Asian, if I looked like a woman, or a girl, if I appeared mundane, less pretty than imagined, why didn’t he choose someone better looking, stop, what are you thinking, be quiet.

He had not been aware of my one rule: I decide what I am capable of. Whenever I am underestimated, I think, you mistake my quietness for weakness. If you can’t imagine me on a stage, I’ll get on one.

You have to hold out to see how your life unfolds, because it is most likely beyond what you can imagine. It is not a question of if you will survive this, but what beautiful things await you when you do. I had to believe her, because she was living proof. Then she said, Good and bad things come from the universe holding hands. Wait for the good to come.

There was another form filled out by the officer I had spoken to. Under victim’s race, she had checked White. Never in my life have I checked only White. You cannot note my whiteness without acknowledging I am equal parts Chinese. This single check mark was a testament to how little time she’d taken to know me, making the assumption I was white over the phone without bothering to ask.

Brock Turner has yellow fever. Wouldn’t put my nuts in her chink chute. Crazy gook. Asian women can’t handle their alcohol. Asian glow, red faced, lightweight, slut.

The assault is never personal, the blaming is.

We live in a time where it has become difficult to distinguish between the President’s words and that of a nineteen-year-old assailant.

Little girls don’t stay little forever, Kyle Stephens said. They turn into strong women who return to destroy your world.

If I have forgiven him, it’s not because I’m holy. It’s because I need to clear a space inside myself where hard feelings can be put to rest.

Hold up your head when the tears come, when you are mocked, insulted, questioned, threatened, when they tell you you are nothing, when your body is reduced to openings. The journey will be longer than you imagined, trauma will find you again and again.

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.

But right now, 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 have been convicted of violating me, intentionally, forcibly, sexually, 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.

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. As the author Anne Lamott once wrote, “Lighthouses don’t go running all over an island looking for boats to save; they just stand there shining.”

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.