“Dear Stuebenville Jane Doe…”

A lot of people are talking about Stuebenville. They’re talking about what happened that night. They’re talking about what happened in the days and weeks that followed, they’re talking about the community’s reaction. They’re talking about the trial and the verdict, they’re talking about rape culture, and they’re talking about the boys that perpetrated this horrible act.  And, some people are even talking about the young woman at the center of all this, in spite of the typical, shameful media coverage that dismisses women and victims. And for whatever it’s worth, people are talking about that media response, too. But is anyone talking directly to you, Jane Doe?  I’d like to.

I don’t know you, and I don’t even know your real name, but I stand behind you. I stand behind you with tens of thousands of others who have heard about your story. (Not your story, just about your story.) I hope you know that we are here, and that the shitstorm that has been surrounding you hasn’t drowned our voices. Because a lot of people have been talking about you, and about what happened to you, and a lot of that has been petty, hateful, and unconscionable. More still has been reductive, dehumanizing, and dismissive of the fact that you are a person, and not a poster child. I know that you are more than an abstraction, more than another faceless Jane Doe, more than a representation of all victims everywhere. What I don’t know is what you’re going through.  I haven’t walked in your shoes, and I haven’t experienced what you’re thinking or feeling  Still, I want you to know that I am here, that we are here. I want you to know that many of the things being said about you are hopeful, supportive, inspiring, and positive. But more than talking about you, I want to talk to you, as a person. 

I’m sorry for what happened to you. I’m sorry that your experience has been dragged across the national stage. I’m sorry that many people you know, and even more whom you don’t, have responded to you with such cruelty and vitriol. You deserve none of that. No one deserves to be treated that way. No one deserves to bear the brunt of physical, sexual, emotional, and structural violence as you have. And although I imagine there have been many times throughout this hellish experience when you wished you didn’t have to feel so vulnerable and exposed to the public, or when you wished you could simply hide within a cocoon of protection until it was over, I want you to know that, for better or for worse, I am here to bear witness to your pain and your experience, because I know that it is real. I can’t do that for you in person, but I am out here. Tens of thousands of us are out here, and we hear you, we believe you, and we don’t judge you. We stand behind you, and when you are ready to move on from all of this, we will still be there, lifting you up. Jane Doe, I hope you can draw from the strength we can only offer from afar. Because although you may feel broken, your life has not been destroyed, despite what well-meaning bystanders may have suggested. I know this, because I know that your intrinsic value and your identity are not wrapped up in an act of sexual violence suffered at the hands of another. Simply by virtue of being a woman, and a human being, I know that you are more than this, that you deserve more than this. For whatever it’s worth, I hope you know we are here.