I found you down the driveway,
alone—by a taupe trash bin,
with a glowing phone.
You said you couldn't remember
their faces—just their eyes,
their generic races.
Were you with someone? “No I
wasn't, not then.” How many?
“Um. Three Asian men,
about five-foot six.” At
midnight.
Where? “On campus, maybe?
Where? “On campus, maybe?
If not, near there.”
How old are you? “I'm, um, nineteen.”
And they? “They beat me,
and went in between ...”
My legs went soft. I took you
into the hospital, recalled
your voice back then:
*
I was standing uniformed in a bright room,
walls bent with students; saw
you unpeeling a snack,
so I asked you. You smiled back, “One
thing
you can do – always leave in group.”
Very good, I said; you're excused.
My expectations of this poem based upon the title were quickly uprooted. I realized it was not dealing with the stressful emotions accompanying a test, but rather the aftermath of a sexual assault. The speaker finds the victim in a shaken state after the incident, as they have a quick conversation about what just happened. The blunt dialogue between the speaker and victim relays basic information about the attack and sets an uncomfortable tone as one realizes the horror that just occurred. The question and response comes to her age and asks “And they?”. I was ready to read the estimated age of the attackers but was shocked with the victim’s reality that “They beat [her], and went in between…”. I think the speaker registers this too, as his legs went soft at the thought of it. The hospital and then the classroom bring a sense of safety back to me because of the medical professionals and crowded, bright room; a stark contrast to the solitary attack at midnight. This, however, is a false sense of safety, because the victim relays that the only solution to protect yourself is to not be alone, which is not really a solution. It leaves me feeling sad at the reality that sexual assault is very common across college campuses, because we should be able to walk alone at night without fear. Nevertheless, I think this poem did a good job of detailing the trauma of one particular assault that is similar to so many others. The speaker learns about it second-hand, and recounts it so that the reader can also be aware of what it is like for victims.
ReplyDeleteI wrote this in the aftermath of some sexual assaults at my university, actually. It kills me, a little - I know those streets around campus. I never feel unsafe, as a man. But when I'm walking alone past the shadows...I imagine how quickly something like this could happen. And how I'm likely never going to be there to help. Just to feel sad and angry in retrospect.
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