Sunflower Symposium: Should I forgive my attacker?

Recently, for my class on God, Suffering, and Evil, we were told to read The Sunflower by Simon Wiesenthal. For those who have not read this book, it is about a Holocaust survivor who was asked, while he was in a concentration camp, to forgive a dying Nazi soldier. Wiesenthal refused to give the young man his forgiveness, and the man died shortly thereafter. I realize that rape is nothing like the Holocaust, nor do I pretend that I will ever know what it is like to be treated in such a way. But, reading the book got me thinking. If one of my rapists asked me to forgive them on their deathbed, would I do it?

This question is challenging for me, because I was raped by two men. So, I have a compound issue. Can I exclusively give forgiveness to one without giving the other the same courtesy? I hope I can, because that’s what I would do, under the best circumstances, but I highly doubt that I would be as strong in real life as I am behind a computer screen. I will briefly digress into some specifics, so for those who may be triggered, I highly recommend that you go on to the next paragraph at this point. There were two men who made the decision to rape me, and decided to impose that decision on me, without my consent. The first man, who I’ll call man #1, got on top of me. He commented on how beautiful I was, and asked me to be a “good girl” and not cause trouble. Naturally, I began to cry when it started. Man #1 put his hand on my throat, with the intent of killing me. The second man to impose his decision on me, who I’ll call man #2, was the only thing that stood between me and the face of death. He did not disappoint. He implored man #1 not to kill me, saying that I “was special” and was “different from the others”. While that did save my life, and I am sickly grateful to that man, he still allowed man #1 to threaten to slap me and make me apologize for showing emotion. Man #2 then advised me to not fight, that “it’ll be faster if you don’t fight”. I have no doubt that without him, I would not be here to write this, even though he raped me soon after man #1 was finished.

Now you see my dilemma. I still think the actions of the first man are unforgivable, but can I forgive the villainous hero to which I owe my life?  That’s an amazingly hard question. While I am thankful that I am alive, so I can tell my story and hopefully help other survivors on their journey from victim to survivor, I still, a times, think I was meant to die at that attack. What would have been more merciful? To allow me to live, but be forced to live with this horrible memory, or to allow me to die, with that being the last thing that I saw and felt? I still do not have an answer that I find satisfactory.

Another part of The Sunflower that I found interesting is the quote that reads:  “…I feared at first, that you had really forgiven him. You would have no right to do this in the name of people who had not authorized you to do so. What people have done to you yourself, you can, if you like, forgive and forget. That is your own affair. But it would have been a terrible sin to burden your conscience with other people’s sufferings.”. This is another aspect to the impossible problem that this question brings up. I am positive that I am not these men’s first victim, nor am I the last, unless they have been apprehended, thus answering my prayers. I cannot absolve man #2 for his crimes against me, but how do I know if his other victims have been given the same privilege of his sick protection? Furthermore, was it an act of mercy to let me live, or an act of malice? This way, he can guarantee that I will never forget them, but he is allowing me to make other, positive memories that act as a salve against the wound that they created.

Furthermore, was my life even worth saving? I know that sounds odd for someone to say about themselves, but I am far from average. They made sure of that. After the attack, I was in a deep depression. I couldn’t find joy in anything. I was suicidal for at least six months, and sometimes still wonder if it wouldn’t have been more merciful if they had let me die. I would never kill myself, though.   don’t want to give them the indirect satisfaction of being behind the decision to end my life. I also developed a self-harming habit that I have not been able to kick, despite the help of my friends, therapists, and mentors. I don’t like to show emotion, I never have, and having been made apologize for them during the attack, I see them as a sign of weakness. I know it isn’t healthy, but this is my head.

There is one reason that I am glad to have lived. I am happy that I still have my friends, both old and new, and my mentors. I made a fantastic friend after the attack, at the beginning of this year. She is my brain twin, we often finish each other’s sentences, and can communicate through facial expressions. She has been incredibly supportive through my decision to do these blog posts, oftentimes acting as my proofreader. I am also glad that my old friends stuck with me, when most would have abandoned me. One of my best friends, who helped me through my anxiety disorder my freshman year, and I have a long-standing prank war, with escalating pranks. Without the aid of man #2, I would have never met my best friend, who I’ll call Isabel, and be in the fantastic prank war with another of my best friends, who I’ll call Brian. Thanks, Isabel and Brian.  You two mean more to me than you’ll ever know. I can’t thank you enough. I also have another amazing woman to thank. My religion professor and minor adviser.  he is the mind behind feminismxianity, a blog that I highly recommend. Shameless plugs aside, she is the first professor I told. She has stood by me as I tried, and still am trying, to put the puzzle pieces together, and has served as a sounding  board. She also introduced me to the book Becoming the Butterfly by Sami Martin. Another book I highly recommend. She also served as a mentor to Martin. I also have a wonderful nurse practitioner, who keeps me sane, along with the help of my campus-provided counselor. If I didn’t know any of these people, I would have lost my mind long ago. My parents, of course, have been a major source of strength for me. My mother is a pillar of strength that, without, I would be lost. My father is incredibly supportive of the decision to write these blogs. He calls it “my calling”.

I guess that in the cosmic scales that weigh good and bad, I have it relatively good. I have friends that love me, mentors that I am proud to claim, and parents that any person would be lucky to have. I guess man #2 was right to save me. Without him, I would have left this earth with their cruelty being the last thing that happened. If my life were to end in this moment, I would die knowing kindness, love, and friendship. Maybe I can forgive him after all.

 

Disclaimer: This post was written by a Feministing Community user and does not necessarily reflect the views of any Feministing columnist, editor, or executive director.

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