Something Like Life
March 20, 2009"Standing on the stage, I felt his hands on me. I felt the blade next to my neck, then next to my chest. I felt the scrape of the concrete wall on my bare back.
“But that was my body. The rest of me had slipped away, and was up in the rafters, suspended—out of place, out of time.
“From up above, I watched my body with a strange detachment. I didn’t feel fear, or panic, or any of the other emotions I would expect. I knew I was watching myself but, at the same time, I felt like I was watching someone else. Someone in a play.
“For her, I felt—I guess the word is concern. And pity.
“Down on the stage, the guy had pulled down my skirt and pantyhose and underwear. They puddled at my ankles. Then he started taking off his own clothes. He still had the scissors at my neck, so he was fumbling at his pants, trying to get them unzipped with one hand.
“When they finally were down, he pushed me against the wall and tried to have sex with me, standing there. When that didn’t work, he turned me around, my face to the wall.
“That didn’t work, either, so he pushed me down to my hands and knees. That worked. After a couple of minutes, he turned me over and pushed into me again. He moved fast, with a mechanical detachment. As he did, a gold cross hanging from his neck dangled in my face.”
The above account is by
Joanna Connors, a reporter from the Cleveland Plain Dealer, who finally told her story to the public last year. In
Telling the Story I Tried to Forget—Beyond Rape: A Survivor’s Journey, Connors gives a full account of her rape by a stagehand in a theater in 1984. She was supposed to interview some actors in a stage play, but when she arrived late, they were gone. But the stagehand lulled her into believing that the actors would return. She also narrates how she lived with the shame and guilt of what happened and why she finally decided to tell her story.
(Read it here.)
(Artwork by Spider Kiss)As I write this piece, the news of “Nicole” recanting her testimony about her rape by US serviceman Lance Cpl. Daniel Smith has just hit the online newspapers. All at once, women exploded and quickly began to vilify her. A friend immediately commented on her Facebook link to the story, calling Nicole a “loser” and a “p*** in every sense of the word.”
One fellow journalist was even more upset: “
Tatratuhin ka talagang baboy ’pag pumayag kang tratuhing baboy. Sana ikaw lang ang mabastos, ’wag sana kaming madamay sa pagpayag mong bastusin ka.”Female politicians, unsurprisingly, came to Nicole’s defense. They asked the public to try to understand what she did, and blamed the government for not giving her enough support in the case. Before Nicole’s about-face, the Arroyo administration was being urged to assert its custody over Smith and remand him to a local jail cell instead of being allowed to stay in the US Embassy, where, many believed, he was being treated well. The administration was criticized for its impotence in renegotiating the
Visiting Forces Agreement with the US government, especially after a phone call from President Barack Obama.
I’m sure by the time this column comes out, most women will have yet to recover from this latest slap on our faces. I believed and supported Nicole, and with her recant, it will now make it even harder for other rape victims to come forward and make their cases heard.
But can we really blame her?
When Nicole’s case was first made public, there were many who doubted her story. Typically, there were men who thought that she was lying about being raped, and even if she was, they felt she was at fault because she flirted with Smith.
Surprisingly, other women I spoke with at the time also felt the same way. After it was revealed that Nicole had danced with Smith while in a rather seedy bar in Clark free port and had drank some liquor, a few women automatically branded her a “loose woman.” So she probably deserved what she got. Good girls don’t get raped, only flirts and loose women do.
But we hear of men getting raped, homosexuals being sexually violated, fathers raping their daughters (google “Fritzi the Austrian rapist”), children being molested and old women getting raped. Clearly, there is nothing sexual about the act. Whether a woman wears hot pants or a duster looking dowdy like a fishmonger’s wife, both are equally in danger of being sexually violated.
Psychologists tell us that rape is about power, not sex. It is about aggression against another person. It is about taking control over another human being.
Of all the crimes that can be committed, it is rape that most women dread. In a robbery or fire, you can replace the material possessions lost. With rape, how can you replace your soul?
Rape rips through the core of a woman. The essence of her being is taken away from her. An assault of this magnitude changes one’s life overnight. When it happens, one is flooded by a confusing rush of emotions—fear, hopelessness, anger, self-loathing and self-doubt. You cannot believe it has happened to you, and even if you do, you torment yourself with questions about what you might have done to attract such a despicable act. This is why many women still prefer to keep quiet about it. It is the unspeakable crime.
The victim tries to forget it, but she really never does.
In her account, Connors says: “I might have buried this story, but it was not dead. It was still alive, and it grew in that deep place I put it, like a vine from some mutant seed, all twisted and ugly. And as it grew, it strangled a lot of other stuff in me that should have been growing. It killed my trust, my confidence. It almost killed my sense of who I was.” She was always distressed over what might happen to her daughter and son. She wanted them to live life and be bold in their actions, but she had taught them to live in fear, constantly hovering over them.
Telling the gristly details of one’s rape takes a lot of guts, especially when one has to identify the rapist in a police lineup. When the case goes to court, the victim has to face the rapist and feel his eyes boring into her being. Questioned and probed repeatedly by lawyers who will try to raise doubts over what happened, make it even worse. The victim feels victimized all over again.
I am writing these words because I am trying to put myself in Nicole’s shoes. I am trying very hard to comprehend why she recanted her testimony. And while this may sound naïve and foolish to others, I still believe she was raped, because I cannot imagine anyone would torture herself and go through that kind of drama and public humiliation for a lie. If it was all about marrying an American serviceman and securing a US visa, she could have made her accusations earlier enough by hooking an unsuspecting American while tending her mother’s eatery down south.
I’d like to believe that Nicole had reached her rope’s end. She is desperate to move on and have a better life. She is trying to forget and bury the past so that she could go on and live for what most women dream of. A good job, a husband and kids, and the house with the white picket fence. She no longer feels it possible to do so here where she is constantly reminded of her pain and suffering, where it is hopeless.
This is exactly what a rape achieves. The victim feels powerless and unable to move. By fleeing to another country, Nicole is trying to regain control of her life, and recapture what she has lost. Her soul, her spirit, her sanity.
Nicole has been judged enough. We must let her go. Wherever she may be, I pray that she is able to find the peace in her heart that she desperately longs for.
(This piece appeared in BusinessMirror, March 20, 2009. My column, Something Like Life, is published every Friday.)
(Photo from the Inquirer online)
(Photo by Roy Domingo of BusinessMirror)
Mandala Spa is one of my favorite spas in the country. Its spa treatments are still unparalleled. The villas are so luxurious and even the in-house cuisine, although vegetarian, is so delicious! Mmm...those cardamon muffins are just the best!
(The centuries-old Carcar Church. Those are the images of the apostles on the posts.)
(Carcar has a lot of old houses as well. Unfortunately, some of them are now used as commercial stores. Paging the Heritage Center!)
(Leather sandals and shoes are a major product of Carcar, aside from its famous chicharon w/ laman.)
(The just-completed travel lounge at the Islands Pasalubong Center, a one-stop-store for travel essentials, Cebu T-shirts and local delicacies.)
(Colorful T-shirts from Islands Souvenirs by businessman Jay Aldeguer.)
(from left: Ronnie Concepcion, head of the Consumer and Oil Price Watch, and Jorge Araneta, president of The Araneta Group.)
(Peter Coyiuto, president/CEO of First Life; Ria Roxas-Ojeda; Cecile Cacho; and Dr. Elton See Tan, chairman emeritus, American California Bank)
(MAR in an Archers' cap w/ Cesar de Larrazabal, Bunjie Uichico, Sunny Velasco, and Jayjay Malixi)
(Banker/businessman Eric Filamor and former Tourism secretary Tony Gonzalez.)
(Ex-Finance chief Cesar Purisima with Knowledge Channel Foundation president Rina Lopez-Bautista, and lawyer Manolo Roxas.)
"The analysis of more than half a million Americans between the ages of 50 and 71 found that men in the highest quintile of red-meat consumption — those who ate about 5 oz. of red meat a day, roughly the equivalent of a small steak, according to lead author Rashmi Sinha — had a 31% higher risk of death over a 10-year period than men in the lowest-consumption quintile, who ate less than 1 oz. of red meat per day, or approximately three slices of corned beef. Men in the top fifth also had a 22% higher risk of dying of cancer and a 27% higher risk of dying of heart disease. In women, the figures were starker: women in the highest quintile of consumption had a 36% increase in death over a 10-year period compared with women who ate little red meat; eating lots of meat was associated with a 20% higher risk of dying of cancer and a 50% higher risk of dying of heart disease." (Read the rest here.)
(Blair at the press interview. Photo by Roy Domingo) 
We hear Ms. Predecessor is extremely jubilant over the news though we dare not publish her juicy quote that puts Mr. Sabbatical in the same category as the media outfit's ex-PR gal who had unjustly fired two of her staff right before she decided to run for political office. Well, she lost. Long-time observers of the goings on in the media outfit were quick to conclude: "What goes around comes around." Arayko.
• Over in the art world, who's this well known Filipino artist reportedly charging over P50,000 just to conduct painting lessons for one day? A friend who attended Mr. Artist's workshop felt shortchanged bec. of the level of artistry of the students. Our friend, who's had advanced lessons in sketching, drawing and painting, was surprised to find himself in the same workshop with an eight-year-old who was just attending his first painting lesson. Perhaps finally realizing his other students were discomfited by the beginners in the group, Mr. Artist approached our friend and taught him a few 'advanced' techniques then hung around for some drinks after to talk about art. Referring to the workshop fee he paid, our friend says, "That was a really an expensive bottle of wine."
(Artwork by Spider Kiss)
I am writing these words because I am trying to put myself in Nicole’s shoes. I am trying very hard to comprehend why she recanted her testimony. And while this may sound naïve and foolish to others, I still believe she was raped, because I cannot imagine anyone would torture herself and go through that kind of drama and public humiliation for a lie. If it was all about marrying an American serviceman and securing a US visa, she could have made her accusations earlier enough by hooking an unsuspecting American while tending her mother’s eatery down south.(Photo from Manila Times)
(Never trusted this guy. Lagi syang ma-OA sa TV. Photo from orbitcast.com)"We all know that going to parties is a way for teenagers to develop their social skills. So these parents are not trying to be killjoys. They are just concerned about their kids’ safety and welfare.
