12.10.12 Parenting

An Education: Our Daughters, College and Rape

An Education: Our Daughters, College and Rape

BY Joyce McFadden NCPsyA

Last month a brave young woman named Angie Epifano, who was to graduate from Amherst College in 2014, wrote a letter to its student newspaper in which she recounted Amherst’s profoundly upsetting handling of her rape by a fellow student. She stated that over a period of months she was disbelieved, blamed, told to forgive and forget, advised that pressing charges would be useless and she was locked up in a psych ward. It is wrenching to read.

But her letter inspired an outpouring of more bravery as other women and men from Amherst- including one in such despair he went on to commit suicide- echoed her experience. It also reached beyond the walls of Amherst as students from different colleges and universities stepped forward to write about the same, calling attention to a nationwide culture of rape being swept under the carpet at our institutions of higher education, as reported by The New York Times. Bolstering the allegations of these women, Slate.com noted:

“In 2010, the Center for Public Integrity reported that 95 percent of campus rapes go unreported. According to the Justice Department’s Office on Violence Against Women, 70 to 90 percent of disciplinary actions toward sexual assault cases are minor sanctions like writing an essay on sexual violence or drafting an apology letter. Epifano’s rapist graduated scot-free. How disheartening that, in a worst-case scenario, he would need to write a research paper.”

Ms. Epifano commented in her letter that not only was her rapist not thrown out of school, he was allowed to graduate with honors. She, on the other hand, withdrew.

Unfortunately, her rapist was part of a greater culture that tolerates and sustains disdain for women. In fact the same semester Ms. Epifano was raped, an Amherst fraternity printed and sold t-shirts for its annual pig roast party. They bore a cartoon image of a bruised woman in her bra and thong, tied up and roasting on a spit with an apple shoved in her mouth. Above the image it said “Roasting Fat Ones Since 1847.”

And last year at another of our most highly regarded institutions, things became so intolerable that Yale students filed a class action sexual harassment suit against their own university. The Yale Herald coverage of the complaint students filed read:

“The complaint is specifically addressed at an Oct. 2010 incident when members of the Delta Kappa Epsilon fraternity chanted, ‘No means yes! Yes means anal!’ on Old Campus, but alleges that the Yale administration’s inadequate response to that incident was just one of many instances of the University’s failure to properly address public and private events of sexual harassment and assault.”

A report from the Department of Justice in 2000 found that over 3% of college women are sexually assaulted, however a 2007 report from the National Institute of Justice found the incidence to be closer to 5%. This means that at a school of 10,000 between 350 to 500 students will be raped each year, totaling between 1,400 to 2,000 rapes per four-year program.

These students aren’t cold statistics. They’re our daughters.

Given the realities of the violence and misogyny that’s out there, what can we as mothers do to help protect our young women as they go off to school? Nothing can absolutely guarantee their safety, but we can arm them with sexual education and our love.

The more openly we engage them in dialogues about sexuality about self knowledge, anatomy, healthy intimate relationships, and personal responsibility— the more they’ll learn to listen to, trust, and follow their own instincts. They’ll need their respect of those instincts to gauge when they feel safe and when they may be at risk.

But if through our silence or unwillingness to talk about sexuality we impair our daughters’ capacity for self respect and self care, we can make them feel isolated from us. In addition to perhaps making them more vulnerable to acts of violence because we haven’t supported them in learning how to do their best to stay safe, we also risk sending them the message that they can’t turn to us in a sexual crisis.

Sometimes our daughters choose not to tell us they were raped because they fear we wouldn’t be there for them in the ways they need. They instead go through the trauma all alone. One young woman from my study didn’t tell her mother because, “I knew that telling would result in alienation from my family.” Another woman described making the same decision because, “I don’t want her to think of me that way.” She worried that it would be too upsetting for her mother and feared being seen by her as defiled.

Sexual violence isn’t something that’s easy for use to think about, but I decided to write this piece to help us see that we need to do all that’s in our power to let our daughters know we will always be there to honor and take care of them when they’re in pain, and to do our best to raise them with the self-respect that will give them the surest footing possible, should they encounter the anguish of sexual crimes.

If we set the stage for our daughters to know unequivocally that we’re a safe haven and they truly can talk to us about anything, maybe they’ll confide in us their need for comfort under strain. But if we’ve indirectly or directly made them feel shame about their normal, healthy sexuality, their ability to weather catastrophe will be weakened.

Teaching our daughters about sexuality isn’t a moral choice. It’s done to help our daughters navigate their lives. When we teach them it’s shameful to explore their bodies and we expose them to our own discomfort around healthy sexuality, we cannot expect them to believe we’ll be there for them in a sexual crisis. If we want our daughters to know they can come to us with anything and they won’t have to fear losing our love and respect, we have to earn that privilege.

I’ll close by sharing a testament to the power of maternal love when a daughter has been sexually violated. It’s the story of a young woman from my book, and her mother. Their experience is a battle cry for all of us to be up front in educating our daughters, and to be generous with our unconditional love so they can always rely on its being there whenever they need it.

“The police immediately dismissed my accusation [of rape] because I waited one month to report (I was in an inpatient psych program for part of that month, trying to get myself stable) and [they said] that I likely was mad at my ex-boyfriend and wanted revenge. They also told me that when I stopped fighting him off, I gave consent to the act… For the first few days, I was very numb and just went through the motions of my life. Around the fourth day, I awoke and immediately felt the pain that I wanted to permanently end. I was so afraid of my emotions and my extreme desire to die, I turned to my mother for help. Had she not been there, I may not have made it through that day.”

Joyce McFadden, NCPsyA is a psychoanalyst and author of the groundbreaking book Your Daughter's Bedroom: Insights for Raising Confident Women. Based on her unprecedented study of 450 women, in which women could talk about whatever was important to them, it was the women of her study who determined the book’s topic: how girls learn about sexuality from their mothers.   Currently being taught in university women’s studies programs, Your Daughter’s Bedroom is considered “an empowering resource for mothers and daughters everywhere" by Publishers Weekly, and "a fascinating and empowering text for women of all ages" by Kirkus Review.  McFadden has an MSW from Columbia University, and is a faculty member, training analyst and clinical supervisor at the Training and Research Institute for Self Psychology. She’s a featured writer for the Huffington Post, and her research has appeared in O The Oprah Magazine, The Detroit Free Press, Ms.Magazine.com, CNN.com, Alternet.com, Feminist.comIntent.com and the Women's Media Center. To learn more go to joycemcfadden.com and on Twitter @joyce_mcfadden

Comments

  • If those raped are our daughters, aren’t the rapists then our sons? We may educate our daughters and be there for them, but it is the sons doing the raping, it is the sons who are truly responsible. What do we do about them? This article is interesting, but I’m afraid it tends to put the impetus on the potential victim. Which in turn sorta feeds into the myth that women are somehow responsible for being raped… I know this isn’t exactly what Joyce means to do. And yes us women must do what we can for our girls. I have a little girl, and yes i want to do everything Joyce recommends – i love her articles here and read them religiously. But nothing will ever change unless we get to grips with our little boys.

    • I agree with you about teaching our boys too.
      We, as their mothers are their first teachers so in fact when i look at all the violence towards women and girls I have to say that mothers are failing their boys on some level.

    • Maybe we just can’t connect to boys in the same way we do our girls. Once they are surrounded by influences we have never experienced (other boys!), how can we advise them? I’m pretty sure that behind closed doors boys have a whole other world that girls, women and mothers don’t see. As an example, look at The Imbetweeners – funny as hell, but concerning in that I think that’s how young lads see and relate to femininity (shagging, clunge etc). Their experience of life is wholly different from ours as women. I can’t even imagine… So perhaps we should be looking to their fathers. But first the fathers need to recognise there is something wrong with the perception of women…. It’s a can of worms…. I may have to go write an article about this!

    • Jen Tobin

      I feel like the positive role-modeling fathers play for sons is of paramount importance. It’s also important for our daughters to have great fatherly influence so they make healthy choices in men, in general. It can’t prevent every act of violence, but I think it’s a step in the right direction. We, as a society, have a lot of cleaning up to do.

  • Just to clarify my last comment. I guess I don’t want to live in a world where I’m having to prepare my daughter and our relationship for the possibility of sexual assault. It’s depressing, but, yes, i know, it’s true. Which is why I am saying, what about the boys? Deal with them and maybe our daughters won’t be raped! Circumnavigating the whole sorry scenario. I’m an eternal optimist.

  • joyce

    Agreed, Alice. In my book I do discuss the importance of mothering sons, but my research is exclusively on women and girls, so that’s the focus in my writing. A woman is never responsible for her rape. Ever.–Joyce

    • Thanks Joyce, I didn’t mean to say you were putting blame on the victim. I just went into rant mode! Hence my clarification. Love, love, love your writings! Thanks for responding.

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