The Spectrum Volume 62 Issue 33

Page 1

the Independent Student Publication of the University at Buffalo, Since 1950

The S pectrum ubspectrum.com

Volume 62 No. 33

Friday, November 16, 2012

University police aims to prevent vehicle break-ins

Bulls come up ‘Aces’ in victory over Evansville

Story on page 5

Story on page 8

Finding a voice

Survivors of sexual assault heal by sharing their stories RACHEL KRAMER Senior Life Editor He and Sarah were best friends; they were always together. She never thought he would take it to the next level. She didn’t want him to, but she didn’t have a choice. One in four women will be sexually assaulted during their time in college. Sarah is one of them. Eighty UB students admitted to having sex with someone without consent while under the influence of alcohol in the National College Health Assessment Survey in 2010. Every once in a while, Sarah spots her attacker around UB and even though she wants to punch him in the face for what he did to her, she doesn’t. She holds her head up and looks him straight in the eye. She knows her look says more than a punch ever will. She doesn’t crumble because she knows she is not alone. Jessica shares her pain. “Not only had I been assaulted by people I knew, but people I believed to be friends had stood by and allowed it to happen, and in some cases, even encouraged it,” Jessica said. At UB, 180 students admitted to being forced to have sex without their consent, according to that same survey. According to the National Institute of Justice, the victim knows the attacker in 85 to 90 percent of sexual assaults reported by college women. About half of them occur on a date. Sarah and Jessica, like most victims of sexual abuse, knew their attackers. Sarah remembers every detail of the assault by her “best friend” four years ago.

It haunts her to this day. “He grabbed me and put me on the floor with him,” Sarah said. “We never had a relationship like this, never even kissed. I thought he went crazy – ‘No, I’m not going to have sex with you.’ But he persisted. I was wearing pajamas so when I tried to scoot away from him on the ground, he held on and my pulling away only helped his cause. I remember how the basement floor felt against my bare thighs – scratchy carpet, brush burns all down my legs. He was able to get inside of me, but I kept fighting him off. “I don’t know why I didn’t scream; my parents were upstairs. They could have saved me. I was just so ashamed it was happening to me that I just sat there in silence.” Sarah was not only emotionally scarred, but her attacker left a black and blue hickey on her neck. It was a constant reminder of the incident for the next few days. She felt like a whore. “Sexual violence is like a wound that never completely heals,” Jessica said. “It may turn from an open wound into a scar, but it’s always a tender pink mark that aches when touched.” To this day, Sarah questions whether or not it was her fault. The aftermath Sarah entered a state of extreme depression after her attack. She began physically harming herself and used just about every drug to desensitize her body. She just wanted to forget. “I was a raging ball of emotions,” Sarah said. “I repressed all of the memories and just refused to acknowledge why I was so upset. I am now in the process of getting clean and can finally think clearly about it, which has aided in the coping process.” Jessica had a similar reaction.

Alexa Strudler /// The Spectrum

Students and faculty at UB came together to battle the stigmas surrounding survivors of sexual assault at the annual Take Back the Night Rally on Oct. 25. Survivors found a voice by telling their stories amidst the support of their peers.

She knows she didn’t ask for it, it wasn’t her fault, but to this day it’s always inside of her head. Jessica blames herself. In the years following her attack, Jessica felt alone. She told her story to a fellow survivor who was supportive, but Jessica said, “Just telling one person doesn’t make that trauma go away.”

The sole soldier

Spectrum managing editor sits down with Blake Mycoskie

Mycoskie discusses TOMS, the decision that changed his life Third Distinguished Speaker speaks at Alumni Arena AARON MANSFIELD Editor in Chief

REBECCA BRATEK Managing Editor Blake Mycoskie isn’t your typical businessman. He doesn’t wear a designer suit or even anything that resembles standard office wear. Instead, he wears a casual denim shirt, bright red pants he happened to forget to zip – “Oops, I didn’t do my fly, sorry,” he laughs as he zips it up – and a belt made by local artisans he picked up on a recent trip to Guatemala. His shaggy face suggests he hasn’t shaved in weeks, and his unkempt locks imply he just rolled out Adrien D’Angelo /// The Spectrum of bed. Blake Mycoskie, founder and chief shoegiver of TOMS Shoes, sat down with The And for him, the look works. Spectrum to discuss his sustainable business practices and what it's like to be a nontraHis Texas accent is faint and ditional entrepreneur. almost indistinguishable, and it’s difficult to keep up as he excitedly and years of age. And at 36 years old, he’s Mycoskie’s iconic canvas shoes and, humbly speaks of his accomplish- established one of the most success- in return, another pair is donated to ments. He has an impressive story to ful businesses in the fashion industry a child in need. He saw the children tell, one about 2 million pairs of feet, in recent years. in the country’s poorest communities and he has only 10 minutes to tell it. Just six years ago after a get- and knew he had to somehow give He’s admittedly a very nontra- away trip to Argentina, Mycoskie back. ditional entrepreneur, but Mycoskie started TOMS Shoes, a for-profit Instead of starting just the runwas named one of Fortune Maga- philanthropic business that operates of the mill charity, Mycoskie knew he zine’s “40 under 40,” a list of the on a simple “One for One” mission had to do something else. He didn’t most influential people under 40 – a customer purchases a pair of have any experience in charity work,

Inside

She turned to drugs to separate herself from her past and the people who would try to get close to her – especially intimately. The thought of someone’s touch made her nauseous and shake with nerves. She blames this and her fear of being alone for the “parade of bad relationships” she entered. Continued on page 2

Continued on page 6

When Blake Mycoskie’s new company, TOMS, was featured in the Los Angeles Times, 2,200 pairs of his revolutionary shoes sold the day the story was published. There was just one problem: he only had one staff member – himself – and 140 pairs of shoes at company headquarters – his apartment. Mycoskie shared this anecdote and many more in front of an estimated 3,500 Thursday night as the third installment – following David Brooks and Laura Bush – of UB’s Distinguished Speaker Series. Mycoskie was 30 years old when he needed a break from his job. He was burnt out after starting an online driver’s ed company – he knows how ridiculous it sounds – and convinced his business partners to let him take a one-month vacation. That month turned into seven weeks, and his vacation in Argentina turned into TOMS Shoes. He overheard a few strangers who spoke English, a rare trait in Argentina, at a coffee shop near the end of his designated four-

Nick Fischetti /// The Spectrum

Distinguished Speaker and TOMS founder Blake Mycoskie spoke at Alumni Arena to an estimated crowd of 3,500 on Thursday evening.

week stay. Those strangers were there on a service trip, and Mycoskie – bored with experimenting with tango, trying to learn to play polo and sipping red wine – asked if he could tag along. “Before I know it, I’m in a van with a bunch of strangers going to give shoes to kids who’ve never had them,” Mycoskie said. Continued on page 6

Opinion 3 Life, Arts & Entertainment 4 Classifieds & Daily Delights 7

Sports 8


Turn static files into dynamic content formats.

Create a flipbook
Issuu converts static files into: digital portfolios, online yearbooks, online catalogs, digital photo albums and more. Sign up and create your flipbook.