Know My Name: A Memoir

by Chanel Miller

I was teaching myself to ask for help, and in return beautiful things were happening.

This was no longer a fight against my rapist, it was a fight to be humanized.

No is the beginning and end of this story.

My pain was never more valuable than his potential.

Now I understood that in this life I’ve been given, I had done something good, created power from pain, provided solace while remaining honest about the hardships victims face. In turn, they showed me who I was. Now it was just a matter of figuring out how to say thank you.

But I also understood that moving through was a way of moving on, that I needed to go backward before I could go forward again.

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.

that a victim be flawless, in order to be worthy of life.

My advice is, if he’s worried about his reputation, don’t rape anyone.

When society questions a victim’s reluctance to report, I will be here to remind you that you ask us to sacrifice our sanity to fight outdated structures that were designed to keep us down.

This is not about the victims’ lack of effort. This is about society’s failure to have systems in place in which victims feel there’s a probable chance of achieving safety, justice, and restoration rather than being retraumatized, publicly shamed, psychologically tormented, and verbally mauled. The real question we need to be asking is not, Why didn’t she report, the question is, Why would you?

Most people say development is linear, but for survivors it is cyclic. People grow up, victims grow around; we strengthen around that place of hurt, become older and fuller, but the vulnerable core is never gone.

Victims exist in a society that tells us our purpose is to be an inspiring story. But sometimes the best we can do is tell you we’re still here, and that should be enough.

Listen to survivors when they come to you. Offer help when they don’t.

hate is a heavy thing to carry, takes up too much space inside the self.

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.