In theory, we are, under the presumption of innocence principle that is supposed to guide our criminal justice system and all of its proceedings. In some instances, we see this principal come to light in full form. For example, in the extremely popular Casey Anthony case, the jury found the accused to be not guilty of murdering her daughter. The masses were outraged, and many people were utterly confused as to how she could possibly “get away with murder.” However, under the presumption of innocence, it’s all quite clear. In a criminal case, for a defendant to be found guilty, the burden rests with the prosecution, to prove that the defendant is guilty beyond a reasonable doubt. In essence, the prosecution has to prove that the defendant is completely guilty through various arguments and with the support of evidence. It does not matter how guilty the defendant may appear. If the prosecution does not provide enough evidence to show guilt beyond all doubt, the jury has no choice but to find in favor of the defendant.

However, not all cases are so black and white. In my first article for the SAFER blog, I discussed how rape cases are often a bit more contentious than the average criminal case because juries tend to be more skeptical of complainants than they usually are. Victims of rape who choose to pursue legal action are often the ones put on trial versus the defendants who may have very well committed the crimes. And, not only are they “put on trial,” they are often presumed guilty until found innocent. This is due to the blame-the-victim mentality, through which people try to make the victim in some way responsible for the crime, so that they don’t believe that it can happen to them.

Many sex crimes (especially those that receive tons of media attention) seem to flip the presumption of innocence principle on its head. Survivors of violence who become complainants in sexual assaults cases often appear to be guilty until proven innocent. This, of course, is more of a social interpretation of the principle than a legal interpretation, as the complainant (usually) does not actually stand trial. However, when skeptical juries and defense attorneys (not to mention reporters) approach complainants from a judgmental perspective, the survivor may feel that he or she is actually the one who is going to be found guilty or innocent.

A perfect example of this tendency to figuratively “put the victim on trial” is with the very public Dominique Strauss-Kahn case. When the story first broke that Nafissatou Diallo, a hotel maid, had accused Dominique Strauss-Kahn of sexual assault, it appeared that the public was on the side of the accuser and believed that this high profile, international political figure could be capable of a sex crime.  Maya from Feministing explores the fallout caused by an “anonymous law enforcement official” who said he listened to a recording of Diallo on the phone in her article, “Nafissatou Diallo never said she wanted money from DSK.”  This “anonymous law enforcement official” claimed that Diallo tells her friend,“Don’t worry, this guy has a lot of money. I know what I’m doing.”  As a result of the slanderous claims surrounding this recording, Diallo’s case against DSK began to unravel and suddenly all fingers were pointed at her and not him.  It did not matter that this quote was coming from a shady source, Diallo became the one on trial and within days the public was informed that the Manhattan District Attorney was looking into dismissing the case because the victim’s credibility had been destroyed.

Despite the intense media and political scrutiny that Diallo faced, she refused to fade away with the accusation that she essentially facilitated a sexual assault on herself for the purposes of garnering money and fame. Nearly a month after several media outlets spread the word that the case may be dismissed, Nafissatou Diallo held a press conference to clarify many of the discrepancies that had been communicated to the masses. Diallo, her attorney, and an interpreter sat down and listened to the aforementioned tapes that were being used to destroy her credibility. What they found is that she was mostly trying to communicate to whomever she was on the phone with that she had been almost been raped, that she was aware that the man who attempted to rape her was powerful, and that she knew how to move forward in terms of reporting the incident. Through this exercise, Diallo was able to ascertain that this “anonymous law enforcement official” took what she said in the recordings and totally misinterpreted it, perhaps intentionally, and then reported it to various news outlets that seized the opportunity to disprove Diallo’s accusation of DSK of sexual assault.

Although Dominique Strauss-Kahn is a prominent member of the international elite and has greater societal pull than Nafissatou Diallo, an immigrant in the United States who works as a hotel maid, the dynamics of this case are not unique when compared to other sex crimes cases. It is common for the accuser to become the accused, although the exploitation may be greater if there is a class disparity between the two parties. All the same, the presumption of innocence tends to stand true for defendants in these cases, while the complainants are often presumed to be guilty or responsible to some degree for what happened to them. This presumption of guilt for the victim is heightened by a lack of evidence or improper protocol in the wake of an attack. Is this fair? Of course not! Nonetheless, people in our scary modern world try to feel as safe as possible, which often results in the scrutiny of victims of violence.

There has been a lot of buzz lately surrounding Bristol Palin’s exploits in her new memoir, Not Afraid of Life: My Journey So Far. Although Bristol discusses many meaningful moments in her life, such as her stint on Dancing with the Stars, her dramatic encounters with Meghan McCain, and her learning about how her mother found God, perhaps the most controversial story that she tells is the one about her having sex for the first time.

As she recounts the events that led up to her engaging in sexual relations with her then boyfriend, Levi Johnston, Bristol communicates a sense of sadness. She told her mother that she was going to stay at a girlfriend’s house and instead snuck off on a camping trip with Levi and some of their friends. She notes that Levi brought lots of alcohol with him, which she had never consumed prior to the evening in question. However, she began to drink wine coolers and she notes that Levi kept the drinks coming. Before she knew it, she was drunk. The last thing that Bristol remembers about that evening is sitting by the fire, having fun with friends. When she woke up the next morning, she had no recollection of having sex with Levi and didn’t know that she had, until a friend informed her.

Bristol was devastated to find out that she had engaged in premarital sex because she was raised to believe that saving herself for marriage was a priority. She endorsed this belief as well, and had also communicated said belief to her boyfriend, Levi. Nevertheless, the deed was done, and Bristol expresses in the book, that on that evening, she felt that her virginity had been “stolen” from her.

Now, when I first saw that she had made this statement when I was reading Perez Hilton’s blog (don’t judge me) I was annoyed. Perez wrote about this quote from Bristol’s memoir and then went on to say that she had made an appearance on Good Morning America to clarify that her saying that her virginity had been “stolen” was not to say that she had been “date raped” by Levi. I was annoyed because my immediate reaction was, if she wasn’t suggesting that she had lost her virginity in lieu of consent, then she shouldn’t be using the word “stolen” to describe the way in which she lost it. I often feel that the media (and laypeople as well) use inappropriate words to describe sexual and nonsexual experiences. For example, someone saying that he or she “raped” an exam is an inappropriate way to describe feeling confident about one’s performance on an exam. In the same vein, I felt that Bristol saying that her virginity had been “stolen” was an inappropriate way for her to describe how she reflects negatively on her engaging in drunken premarital sex.

However, my feelings about Bristol Palin’s choice of words took a drastic turn when I read an article on Feministing by Zerlina entitled “Bristol Palin and the challenge of calling rape, rape.” In this article, Zerlina discusses the inability of many rape survivors to label what happened to them as rape. While lack of consent and potential coercion may fall under the category of rape, there is something very difficult about accepting one’s fate and future as a survivor of rape. Much like Bristol Palin, Zerlina experienced a sexual encounter that was not ideal, but not one that she had labeled as rape, despite the fact hat she had gone to the hospital and had a rape kit completed. She recounts a police officer telling her that what she had experienced sounded like a rape. Ultimately, Zerlina recognized the validity of the police officer’s statement, and is able to now label what she experienced as rape.

Zerlina also goes on to say that what Bristol talks about when she tells the story of having her virginity “stolen” after having blacked out from being served one too many wine coolers by the man who had sex with her while she was unable to give consent, sounds like rape. Zerlina’s method of breaking down the events of the evening to what may have been non-consensual sex under the influence of alcohol made me realize that Bristol may have every right to use the language that she is using to describe the circumstances.

Nevertheless, Bristol Palin isn’t labeling this event as one in which she was raped, as she told the anchors at GMA. Maybe she was and she hasn’t been able to make sense of it all yet, or she’s embarrassed and feels shame and guilt like nearly all survivors of rape do. Maybe she wasn’t and she is using the word “stolen” in a way that she probably shouldn’t because in accordance with the events of the night in question, it sounds incriminating. Only Bristol knows the truth and will tell her story as she sees fit. However, if she has been victimized, one would hope that she will in time embrace what happened and find a way to cope.

Hi readers!

My name is Maddie Friedman and I am a rising-senior at Barnard College.  I just returned from a semester abroad in Copenhagen, Denmark, and am gearing up for another summer filled with anti-violence activism.  I spent the last two summers working as an advocate at the Victim Services Unit of the Kings County District Attorney’s Office and am a peer educator at the Barnard/Columbia Rape Crisis/Anti-Violence Support Center and an active member of Take Back the Night.  I am very excited to be writing for SAFER’s blog and hope that you enjoy reading my first post!

The stigma attached to survivors of rape is slanderous and ubiquitous. Without knowing the details of a survivor’s story, most people will respond critically. This appears to ring particularly true when the survivor is female and the perpetrator is male. What was she wearing? Was she walking alone? Was she drunk? Was she flirting? What did she expect?

I am always amazed when I hear people who I believe to be intelligent and sensitive, place blame on victims of sexual assault. Yet, I have come to understand that their willingness to explain away a survivor’s trauma does not come from a malicious place (there are, of course, exceptions to this statement). The fact of the matter is that in the present day, not everyone is subject to education about the issues of sexual assault and violence. I myself did not know much about these topics until I sought out an internship that involved work with victims of violent crimes. During this experience, and through my subsequent pursuit of jobs within the same realm, I became more knowledgeable and understanding of a survivor’s experience.

There are many examples of why a lack of mandatory education about sexual violence contributes to a victim-blaming society. The primary reason why many people who lack knowledge about rape and sexual assault often criticize a survivor is because they don’t want to believe that it can happen to them. It is a frightening and unsettling thought to consider the reality that anyone can be raped at any time. And so, people who don’t know better simply don’t consider it at all, and instead, will listen to a victim’s story and try to find flaws in it, in an effort to make the scenario entirely unfamiliar to them. They tell themselves (or others) that they would never wear a short skirt and clingy top and/or walk alone late at night after a few drinks and/or that they would never flirt with a stranger. This judgmental and erroneous approach perpetuates a culture that blames victims of sexual assault.

One example of the negative influence of the blame-the-victim mentality in today’s society can be seen through the acquittal of two New York City police officers, Kenneth Moreno and Franklin Mata, who were accused of raping a young woman. The case went to trial, and a jury was selected in a typical and unbiased manner. However, the jury (like so many other juries prior to this case) had no training on the special nature of rape cases, in which there is generally little physical evidence. And so, when a jury sat in on the trial, which involved no DNA evidence, and watched the officers’ attorneys berate the victim for not remembering every detail of the night in question because she had been intoxicated, the members of the jury assumed that she was wrong. Why would two policemen intentionally violate and cause harm to someone who needed their assistance? Isn’t it their job to protect people? Why would this woman make such dramatic claims when she was drunk and barely remembers anything? And why was there no DNA evidence? Unfortunately this last question is posed all too frequently in the age of Law and Order and CSI without jurors (and the masses) understanding how costly DNA analysis is and how infrequently it is actually used in court cases.

With these questions unanswered, the jury found the defendants to be “not guilty.” Prior to releasing the verdict, no one explained to the jury the shame and guilt that often overwhelms survivors of rape and discourages them from filing police reports. Thus, they were likely unable to understand the courage necessary to not only file a report against a rapist, but to accuse two police officers of the crime. I am also fairly certain that this young woman anticipated judgment for having been drunk and needing to be helped home by police officers, who she was going to discredit by accusing them of a heinous crime. Furthermore, I am also sure that she was informed about the relatively low numbers of convictions in rape cases because they tend to lack physical evidence. However, it is an utter shame that despite all of this, she came forward, only to be shut down by a jury that was presumably uneducated about sexual violence.

So, how do we stop this vicious cycle of victim blaming so as not to silence survivors and to respect their experiences? Education about sexual violence must be more prevalent in the present day. Without it, people will rely on victim blaming and will not actually know how to respond should they be attacked. Furthermore, if juries are not going to receive specific training to judge rape cases, then they cannot be truly impartial, and perhaps, shouldn’t be utilized under such circumstances. All the same, judges and other members of the criminal justice system can just as easily fall prey to the blame-the-victim mentality and some may view the presence of a jury as a way of creating a greater space for debate and evaluation. Nevertheless, without the tools to assess a sexual assault case in a fair manner, juries can just as easily blame the victim and lead the victim to feel marginalized.

Ultimately, it is important for us all to not be so critical of victims. While it would be paralyzing to worry about being assaulted all the time, we should also not resort to victim blaming in an effort to make ourselves feel safer. It would be a better investment of our time to be compassionate and respectful of survivors and to be educated on the issues, in an effort to be as careful as we can be in our everyday lives.