Know My Name

by Chanel Miller

We stood around a few short Caucasian guys who wore their caps backward, careful not to get their necks sunburned, indoors, at night.

How nuts was that? That was like the nuts-est thing to have ever happened. They stuck so much stuff into my hoo hoo. I can’t even—like look at what I’m wearing. How sick is this outfit?

After we watched E.T. she slept in my bed every night for the next seven years, terrified of that dehydrated alien and his wrinkly finger.

I didn’t know that money could make the cell doors swing open. I didn’t know that if a woman was drunk when the violence occurred, she wouldn’t be taken seriously. I didn’t know that if he was drunk when the violence occurred, people would offer him sympathy. I didn’t know that my loss of memory would become his opportunity. I didn’t know that being a victim was synonymous with not being believed.

If convicted Turner, who raced in the London 2012 U.S. Olympic trials, could face up to 10 years in prison. If my name came out, what would they even say? Chanel, who works a nine-to-five entry-level job, has never been to London.

Every time it rained, my dad said, The plants must be so happy! How would it feel when he’d learn his daughter had been raped?

I imagined myself a donkey, defense attorney dangling the carrot, don’t follow the carrot.

The way I saw it, my side was going to convince the jury that the big yellow thing in the sky is the sun. His side had to convince the jury that it’s an egg yolk.

I could not tell you how many males or females, ethnicities, kinds of outfits were in the courtroom. Half the jury could’ve been wearing tiger face-paint and I wouldn’t have noticed.

I took six years of French too, but it never occurred to me to bring Madame Jensen in to let you know I gave an excellent presentation on Le Petit Prince. What were they here to say? He never took his penis out in class, never fondled his coach.

The friendly guy who helps you move and assists senior citizens in the pool is the same guy who assaulted me. One person can be capable of both. Society often fails to wrap its head around the fact that these truths often coexist, they are not mutually exclusive. Bad qualities can hide inside a good person. That’s the terrifying part.