The Voice Behind

Source: YouTube, “I Am With You - Chanel Miller”

Her name is Chanel Miller and she gives strength to me and everyone else who reads her story.

Iwas 16 when I read about Emily Doe’s case. I was 19 when I read about Chanel Miller’s. Miller, the victim of the People v. Turner case, recently released her memoir, “Know My Name.” It follows her experiences preceding her sexual assault and her battle with trauma after. When news about the case broke in 2015, news articles plastered her assailant Brock Turner’s face on every platform. Accompanying his face was “the Stanford swimmer.”

Miller, addressed by her pseudonym, was referred to as the “unconscious, intoxicated woman.” At the time, she chose to exclude her identity from this narrative. In contrast, her rapist’s credentials accompanied every mention of his name. Euphemism surrounding the case painted him as a flawed student and Miller as the black smudge that ended his prospective career. The rapist’s father defended his son in a court statement, alleging that he was “paying a high price for 20 minutes of action.”

Aaron Perksy, the judge who oversaw the case, agreed that a full sentence of six years “would have a severe impact on him.” Turner was sentenced to six months in jail and released after three for good behavior; diminishing the severity of the crime did little to reassure Miller and other survivors seeking justice.

As Miller reclaimed her voice four years following the incident, her cultural background was revealed. The pent-up frustration I harbored when I first read about her sexual assault never subsided and turned into shock when she revealed her identity. She was Asian American. The shock I experienced made me reexamine my personal biases. Why did the mention of her 22 | fall 2019 Chinese heritage astound me? The nuances of race intertwining with sexual assault proved difficult to dissect. In these instances, intersectionality concerning the Me Too movement should be addressed. Tarana Burke, the founder of the movement, reassured that Me Too did not pertain solely to “famous white cisgendered women.”

I had never before considered the face behind Emily Doe. There was little room for attributing anything to the pseudonym except “rape victim.” I felt a sense of solidarity as the media circulated her picture. I saw myself in her brown eyes, in her Asian background and in her powerful words. Her unwavering stance and defiance against a biased legal system was awe-inspiring. Miller’s words worked as a catalyst to redefine the identity bestowed upon her. She was more than a black smudge on someone’s painting. She was an artist, an author, more than a victim. Her memoir’s soft but resilient narration showed me how loud her voice resonated in the surrounding tumult.

I saw myself in her brown eyes, in her Asian background, and in her powerful words.

Sexual assault in Asian and American cultures alike is often a taboo topic. It is one that is haphazardly swept under the rug, forgotten and unacknowledged. This was evident in the way Asian survivors dealt with their experiences. Asian women were