Ahh, freedom. Feels good, doesn’t it? While majority of America (and maybe even the rest of the word) loathes your miserable existence, I can’t help but wonder how you spent your first night home.
Are you scared? Do you fear for your safety? What do you think the chances are that people in your neighborhood want to assault you? While you are walking down the street I hope you are afraid and can feel the eyes watching you.
I hope you feel victimized.
The reality of it is though, you will never know the true meaning of that word.
I read your statement and it made me sick to my stomach. Rich, white male privilege seeps out of you; tell me, did you come up with that on your own or did your lawyer help you? I wonder if while you were penning that piece of garbage if you felt any remorse. You do not get to blame ‘party culture’ for stealing a woman’s sense of self. That night behind a dumpster, you took that from her. The fault is yours, and yours alone.
You are the problem.
You did a good job of painting a picture of an innocent kid from Ohio who was culture-shocked by the college lifestyle, except you were tripping on acid, enjoying the highs of marijuana and drinking alcohol long before you arrived at Stanford. Did you believe that’d be kept under wraps? There is no help available that can cure you of your arrogance and messed up rational.
While you fear the protesters outside your house, there are women afraid to come forward about being sexually assaulted all over the country. Your many disgusting choices and Judge Aaron Persky’s less than honorable six-month sentence is why assaults are kept secret.
It hardly seems worth the effort, tears and pain of re-living the trauma when our justice system seems to care more about you, the rapist, having the ability to finish college; the same party-culture place you blamed your actions on.
After your words, I read hers and cried. I felt her statements ooze with not only immense sadness but with an equal amount of power. Her will to take back what you took from her is greater and more substantial than any story that helps you sleep at night.
According to him, the only reason we were on the ground was because I fell down. Note; if a girl falls down help her get back up. If she is too drunk to even walk and falls down, do not mount her, hump her, take off her underwear, and insert your hand inside her vagina. If a girl falls down help her up. If she is wearing a cardigan over her dress don’t take it off so that you can touch her breasts. Maybe she is cold, maybe that’s why she wore the cardigan.
I hope that someday you have a daughter and nothing bad ever happens to her. I simply want you know that there are men like you out there – waiting for her to be too drunk to consent. Watching her stumble across the room at a party, perceiving her as an opportunity.
Rot in hell,