Taking Back the Night

This evening I spoke at Emory University's Respect Program and the Alliance for Sexual Assault Prevention's Take Back the Night Speak Out Rally. Here is what I said:

I am Allegra Knight, a Masters student at Candler School of Theology and I am a survivor.

 

When I started my Master’s program at Candler School of Theology at the age of 38, I never imagined that I would end up a victim of sexual assault by a classmate. The term “victim” is usually frowned upon but I wear it with pride. I refuse to cower or feel shame and I encourage anyone who has been assaulted to follow my lead.

I was raised by a single mother who ingrained in me strength and independence. I went to all female schools (high school and college) where we were taught how to protect ourselves. But after my divorce, I was left broken and vulnerable and even with this proper training, I still ended up with a classmate—a friend—trying to rape me and stalking me.

For months I allowed an emotionally abusive relationship to continue which culminated in him attempting to force penetration against my will. Since he had previously ignored my requests to leave me alone, I figured out how to block him via phone, text message, and online media so that even if he tried he would be unable to contact me. Despite these steps, he came to my front door uninvited on a Saturday night at 11pm, which I responded to by calling the police, who advised me to file a restraining order against him in order to protect myself. The officer hit me hard with a case of “scared straight”. He explained that this was a man who does not understand “no” and this would not stop. I saw two paths in front of me: one where I stand up and protect myself or the other where I become a statistic on the news.

I had to navigate the complicated bureaucratic systems both at Candler and within Dekalb County. I had to talk about the intimate details of my sex life with Candler’s Dean of Students and the Registrar. I went through the court system and got a restraining order against my attacker. I could not have done this without the support of my friends. The experience left me wanting to crawl under my covers never to return. But somehow, when we are on the verge of giving up, Providence steps in and catches us before we fall. My friends were there to support me; they held me up when my legs failed. Reach out to your friends, they will still love you and support you.

The more I talked about my experience, the more I learned that I was not alone. And that is why we are here today with the intention of removing the stigma of being a victim. My friend Miranda (who has twice been a victim of date rape) was so inspirational; she told me that she feels called to tell her story, so that women realize that this is not our shame to bear but that this shame belongs to our attackers. I reiterate: this is his shame, not mine. I already knew that if I did nothing and he attacked another woman that would be on my head, but after talking with Miranda I realized that I must speak up publicly about what happened; I am called to be a role model for other women. I must speak up loudly and with strength. 

I stand tall… as a victim.

The presence of God?

I regularly ponder the presence of God in our daily lives. I am troubled by the issue of free will vis a vis omnipresence. An Islamic Imam posed one possible explanation: that life is like an improv play- God sets the stage, gives general direction, and will yell "Cut!" when your scene is done; how you choose to get through your scene is up to you.

This is what I was wearing when

James prayed that God had no

hand in selecting the outfit.

Yet, this leaves me wondering- how present is God in my life? I have no doubt that it was Providence that has guided me here to Atlanta, but does God care whether I get stuck in traffic or not?

In seminary we have very deep conversations in a very lighthearted way. While at a Tacky Christmas Sweater Party with my classmates, we were debating the issue of Providence. I was up on my metaphorical soapbox, passionately debating both sides of the argument, when I asked, "does God really care what I wear?" Without missing a beat, my friend James retorts, "with what you're wearing, I certainly hope not."

I would love to hear your thoughts. How present is God in your life? Where do you fall on the issue of Providence?

Pondering Hermeneutics and Dog Training

I am currently taking an anthropology class exploring world Christianities. We began the semester by examining the terms we will use throughout the semester: meaning, belief, faith. One article we read actually explored "the meaning of meaning". Is your head spinning yet? Mine certainly is.

Barron

 

I must confess that I am a terrible dog trainer. My dog is housebroken but that is about the limit of his training. As I was pondering this new hermeneutical lexicon while walking my dog Barron, it occurred to me that this might be why I fail at training my dog. Specifically: when I tell Barron "Up!" it could mean "go up the stairs", "jump into my lap", "stand up so I can reach your collar"... well, you get the idea. How is Barron to know the meaning of "Up."? How am I to know the meaning of "meaning"?

These are the things that an over-educated graduate student ponders...

How far we come in a year.

It was this week a year ago that I was in a self imposed hell—swept away in an abusive relationship that I refused to find the strength to leave… until it was almost too late. Everyone around me could see the abyss I was heading towards but I refused to listen to their sage advice; instead I allowed myself to be controlled as if he were Orpheus, playing the strings of my emotions. Mindlessly I followed him as he pushed and pulled me, this way and that, almost as if he was trying the limits of cruelty I would withstand.

When he tried to rape me, I was able to fight him off and he then broke up with me. I was crushed but somewhere from the bottom of the wreckage, I screamed, “No more! Never again.” He didn’t believe me and continued to try to draw me back into his abusive games, but with the strength loaned to me from my support system, I found the strength to resist.

I spent months healing, protecting myself, and fighting to prevent this from happening to anyone else. Then, when I least expected it, I found healthy love—possibly for the first time in my life. I went from the lowest point in human relations to where I am growing and becoming better at communication, giving/accepting support, and trust.

Would I choose to go through that again? No, but I receive solace knowing how I turned it around to make myself a better person and to help others.

My gratitude abounds!

My story from last year: Standing Tall as a Victim

Standing Tall as a Victim

I am no shrinking violet, I never have been. I find it shocking that I am finding myself in this situation but here I am and I will not back down.

I am 39 years old and I am the victim of an abusive relationship with a 24-year-old classmate while in seminary. I would have never imagined something like this would ever happen to me. I was raised by a single mother who ingrained in me strength and independence. I went to all female schools (high school and college) where we were taught how to protect ourselves. But after my second divorce, I was left broken and vulnerable. That’s where he stepped in.

While preparing to defend myself and my safety by proving in a court of law a preponderance of evidence (in front of a judge and my victimizer) I was able to see exactly how he began to lay the trap that ensnared me. I am not saying he did this intentionally; I still hold out hope that he is just confused and not malicious. This crusade I took on is not an easy one; having grown up in the age of Anita Hill, I know that the first woman to take a stand is pummeled with stones. But I was given the tools to prepare me for this fight (I am imagining myself as a modern day Frodo Baggins, collecting tools that I do not understand and have no concept how I will use them but storing them away, ready to pull them out when the time comes). I have found that of all the tools I have at the ready, the most important skill I have is to reach out to my community and ask for help. If you find yourself in a similar position, please- reach out for help. 

The relationship began innocuously enough: I was seeing a fella at home who was unwilling to commit due to my being long distance. When my classmate began flirting with me via IM, I was so vulnerable and desperate for attention. I saw both of them for several months but when Valentine’s Day came around and I realized that neither man cared enough about me to acknowledge me on the holiday, I ended my relationship with both men as I felt that I was not being respected by the open, non-exclusive nature. I respectfully asked my classmate to give me the space to heal. Against my wishes, he continued to text message and instant message me. After a more than a month of unwanted contact, I asked a friend to speak to him to request that he leave me alone, to which he responded that he “got the message loud and clear,” yet two days later he was instant messaging me again.  Because I liked him and was emotionally vulnerable after settling a painful divorce, I repeatedly allowed him back into my life. I was very clear about my expectations, namely that I would not have sex with him outside of an exclusive relationship. I would get the impression (whether correctly or not) that he intended to commit to me, but when asked about it he would say that he would not commit. One time this conversation happened as he was trying to unbutton my pants.

This cycle continued until the end of the semester when he messaged me saying that he would like to be exclusive. Against my better judgment, I saw him and we ended up having consensual sex.  The relationship then blew up that afternoon; the cause is still open to debate. I was devastated and I behaved badly (including unfriending him on Facebook). He said that he saw no hope for us and we should both walk away, which I did. However, a week later he was back to messaging me again, saying that he missed me.  I was in a state of cognitive dissonance, my head knew I shouldn’t take him back but my heart was still crying out for him. Over the objections of everyone, I decided to give him one last shot; he was not willing to commit right away and asked for time to think it over, which I agreed to.

Religion in a Box: A Site Visit to The Buckhead Church

Several people wanted to come along when I did a site visit to Northpoint's The Buckhead Church for my Sacred Spaces class but were unable to join me. I promised to share my paper with them and this seemed to be the most efficient way to do so.

My second site visit was to the Buckhead church. One enters the church from a multi-level parking structure by crossing a sky bridge. When I opened the door I was struck with the overwhelming feeling that I was entering a convention center. Greeting congregants as they come through the door were several people dressed in business casual with a high tech two-way communication devices evident.

Everybody is really friendly and really pretty (I almost felt like I was in a reality T.V. show). I introduced myself and got permission to take photographs but they emphasized to only take pictures before or after service because of copyright infringement. The lobby is the first indication of how huge this facility is and it reminded me of every convention center I have ever been in. Upon entering the auditorium (yes they call it an auditorium, not a sanctuary), I was struck by what a huge production this is.

I was surprised to find no icons of any type: no Jesus, no cross, not even one projected like the one in The Church of Light in Osaka, Japan. Even during the service there are no symbols of any kind. Again, I found nicely dressed people with high tech two-way communication devices, high tech lighting and sound with men on platforms running the complicated systems. There is a huge stage with two large screens, one on either side and on the screens are playing short commercial-like videos that are produced by the church. The one playing when I walked in was explaining how to find community within such a large congregation. The auditorium has a maximum capacity of 2900 including the balcony seating. The Sunday evening service, which I attended, usually draws approximately 1500 people.

Striking a Balance

Here I am in a fairly traditional seminary with a faith that is difficult to sum up, let alone categorize, which looks very different from the main party line here.

I knew going in that I did not fit the traditional mold; I took this on with intention, for many reasons. One being that my background is in social justice; I always felt like a poser telling others that being part of a minority is a livable situation when I, as a middle class white woman, had never truly been part of a minority. I wanted to see what it felt like to be in the minority. Another was that I wanted a school where issues of faith did not have to be bracketed out completely but still had a strong academic base.

In the last week or so, I have found myself removing my foot from my mouth as quickly as I can take the other one out. I try to engage my classmates from a place of respect. I know their faith looks different from mine. I know that I am very strong in my faith and that it can withstand questioning and contradiction. For these reasons, when entering into a conversation that could potentially involve contentious issues, I always give them the higher ground and do not challenge where they are. It seems that I am doing my classmate a disservice for a couple of reasons. First is, they are not seeing the full me- but a shadow cast on the wall for fear of directing my light directly at them. The second is, I am not allowing them the opportunity to grow. I’m not saying that I have all the answers, or that having a conversation with me will bring instant enlightenment; but what if I am “protecting” them from an experience they need to have?? That would be awfully selfish of me.

The issue that continues to rear its head recently is sex. I have been married twice, so yes, I have had sex. But that is not the issue here; what is the issue is talking about sex, which I am very comfortable doing. I understand that many of my classmates do not condone premarital sex; that is their belief and I respect that. One particular classmate was very troubled by a conversation I was having about a biological occurrence in men- I was trying to learn more about what their experience is like. Later I apologized to the uncomfortable classmate and let him know that I understand that he is in a very different faith place than I am, that I respect that place and that I would endeavor to show that respect in my conversations in his presence going forward.

So today I was talking about all this with another classmate who also finds herself in the minority and she (so wisely) pointed out: why do we have to always tone down who we are to fit in the mold?? Why can’t people accept us as we are? Meet us where we are instead of the reverse? She confessed that she felt almost like she was putting on act- not being true to herself. Her words resonated with me. Engraved on the inside of my pinky ring is, “Keep true to thyself.” I don’t feel that I wasn’t keeping true to myself, but even dimming the light some can lead to extinguishing it all together. Her words were my wake up call.

All these questions are rhetorical- I don’t know the answer. I doubt there is a correct answer. I do know that I will continue to stumble through life, only opening my mouth to switch feet. I honestly mean no disrespect. All I ask is that you extend me Grace.