As a director of a victims’ advocacy program, a woman of color,
and a survivor of abuse, I am used to living within the margins
of a society that creates hierarchies based on gender, race, class
and sexual orientation. As an activist who works for women’s
equity and against gender-based violence, my initial inclination
is to believe and support a woman who claims she has been violated. The
statistics certainly show that domestic violence and sexual assault
are crimes committed primarily by men against women.
Women are often blamed for their own victimization
by either making “poor
choices” or not getting out of the situation sooner. However,
the analysis of who is a “good” or sympathetic victim, who is the “bad” stereotypical
perpetrator, and what is the appropriate community or legal response,
is not so simply defined. Add to the mix an alleged victim who
is White, the accused who is Black, and the criminal offense of
sexual assault. Here is where the concept of justice is at
a crossroads, and the issues of rape and racism collide.
Mainstream victims’ advocates have applied a one-size-fits-all
approach of victimhood that has usually benefited White middle-class
women to the detriment of people of color. There is often
no room for a systemic analysis of rape, class and gender since
these discussions are viewed as divisive to the “real work” of
ending violence against women and tantamount to treachery within
the movement. Yet, as a woman of color, I am reluctant to
be an ally with anyone who has the unbridled potential to perpetuate
gender or racial violence or disenfranchisement. A fundamental
tenet to my survival is to critically analyze not only both sides
of any argument, but also the contradictions that lie in-between.
On the one hand, when a woman seeks assistance
as a victim of domestic violence or sexual assault, there is
no standardized litmus
test that she must pass before being deemed a “victim” beyond conducting
a screening and accepting her personal plea for help. Within victim
service organizations this automatic acceptance is certainly appropriate
given the long legal and societal history of women not being believed,
then sent back to their homes to face escalated violence or even
death. Put simply, it is essential to our work as victims’ advocates
to believe a woman who claims to be a victim of gender-based violence
because her word, when compared to the denial of the abuser, is
often deemed unworthy of belief in a patriarchal society.
Many women seek victims’ services without ever seeking recourse
through the legal system. The legal process has its own inherent
risks of victimization and limitations of access, particularly
for women of color and poor women, and therefore is simply not
a practical option of protection for many women. Requiring
victims to furnish proof of abuse prior to receiving services simply
reinforces the stereotype that all abuse is quantifiable, and that
the only way a woman is to be believed is by conducting her own
investigation into her own victimization prior to seeking services. Believing
victims is something victims’ rights organizations must and should
do within the context and the purpose of our work.
On the other hand, outside of the victim service
organizational context, there is a heightened standard for who
is deemed a victim. In
a recent controversial and precedent setting ruling, Colorado District
Judge Terry Ruckriegle instructed prosecution and defense attorneys
in the Kobe Bryant sexual assault case to refer to the accuser
as the "alleged victim" rather than the unqualified “victim” in
all court proceedings. In his three-page ruling the judge
wrote, "The common understanding of the term 'victim'
certainly implies that a person has been the subject of a particular
wrong or crime, and its use under these circumstances [emphasis
added] could improperly suggest that a crime has been committed
such that the presumption of innocence might be jeopardized." The
judge explained that the more neutral language does not assume
a crime was committed. Bryant is a Black, 25-year-old, wealthy
NBA star, accused of sexually assaulting a 19-year-old White woman.
He asserts the sex was consensual, while the alleged victim claims
that Bryant raped her.
The ruling is controversial because prosecutors
and mainstream women’s rights advocates assert that that Colorado law refers to
a victim as "the person alleging [emphasis added] to
have been subjected to a criminal sexual assault" and those
victims’ rights attach to the victim as soon as a crime is reported. Further,
the Victim's Rights Act requires prosecutors to call the person
who is alleging that a crime was perpetrated against them a 'victim.’ Cynthia
Stone, spokeswoman for the Colorado Coalition Against Sexual Assault,
stated in the Denver Post: "In Colorado, a district attorney
is under an ethical obligation to file charges only if they in
their heart of hearts believe a crime has been committed, and if
they believe they can win the case. This is forcing them to compromise
on that." She also said that sexual assault is not treated
as other serious crimes such as such as robberies or muggings where
the use of the term “victim” is undisputed.
On the surface, the arguments for keeping the
language of “victim” in
cases involving sexual assault are compelling and have advocates
lining up behind this familiar good vs. bad analysis. However,
the problem with using the term victim in a proceeding to determine
whether a crime was in fact committed, and that the defendant is
guilty of committing that crime, is that it: 1) can create a bias
that would harm the defendant’s right to the presumption of innocence;
and 2) lacks a systemic analysis that takes into account race,
class and gender.
Women’s rights advocates have no problem pointing out Bryant’s
class status and his ability to hire some of the best lawyers money
can buy. There is no question that Bryant is able to afford
a defense team that the majority of defendants would never have
access to. Advocates have articulated a fragmented class
analysis by pointing out the economic advantage Bryant has, yet
ignore their own failures for finding any real solutions for poor
women seeking legal recourse. Determining the guilt of Bryant
is as much of a community question, as is the motives and credibility
of the women’s rights advocates who insist on his guilt. When
people of color hear White advocates presuming the guilt of a Black
man, yet have seen no similar outcries when people of color are
discriminated against within the legal system, it is no longer
just Bryant who is on trial in the court of public opinion, but
the victims’ rights organizations as well.
Judge Ruckriegle’s words, “under these circumstances” are at the
core of a systemic analysis of race, class and gender in sexual
assault cases. If it were simply left up to the prosecutor’s “heart
of hearts” as Stone put it, there would simply be no use for a
criminal justice system based upon the presumption of innocence. In
situations where the alleged victim is White, and the alleged perpetrator
is Black, we need only to look at recent events – connected to
a not so distant past – where White women’s rape allegations against
Black men were vigorously investigated and prosecuted with all
too often racist outcomes.
In February 2003, 18 year-old Marcus Dixon,
who is African American, was arrested and charged with imprisonment,
sexual battery, aggravated
assault, misdemeanor statutory rape and aggravated child molestation
of a 15-year-old White girl. Dixon at the time was a 6-foot-6,
265-pound defensive lineman. As a star athlete and National
Honor Society student he had been awarded a full scholarship to
Vanderbilt University. The high school senior was convicted
and sentenced to serve a maximum 10-year sentence without the possibility
of parole in the Georgia State Penitentiary.
Dixon maintained that the sex was consensual,
while the alleged victim claimed she was raped. Jurors acquitted Dixon of all
forcible rape charges, but found him guilty of the child molestation
charge based on the law against having sex with someone under 16
years old, even though he was less than three years older than
the alleged victim. The Floyd County District Attorney, John
McClellan, attached the aggravated child molestation charge to
the case, seen by some as a guaranteed way to get a conviction
even if Dixon was found not guilty of the other charges. The
jurors were placed in the position of convicting Dixon with the
one thing that seemed indisputable: having sex with an underage
girl. Many of the jurors later decried the severity of the
sentence as being disproportionate to crime.
Despite the District Attorney’s denials that race was a factor
in his aggressive prosecution of Dixon, supporters of the young
man, including elected officials and representatives of the NAACP,
asserted that as an African American living in the South, the case
carried very distinct racial overtones. In sum, Dixon violated
the anti-miscegenation mores condemning sexual relations between
Black males and White females in a town where racial stereotypes
and racist practices are part of the fabric of the community. The
accuser is the daughter of an avowed racist and was terrified that
her father would find out that she had sex with a Black man. She
did have evidence of vaginal bruising and a torn hymen, which the
defense contended was consistent with the girl having intercourse
for the first time.
Dixon’s legal guardians, who are White, reportedly received ongoing
threats, allegedly from the Ku Klux Klan. Dixon lost his full scholarship
to Vanderbilt University after his arrest, and was permanently
expelled from high school just one course away from graduation. In
May 2004 the Georgia Supreme Court issued its ruling overturning
Dixon’s conviction on appeal. The Court held that Dixon should
have been prosecuted only on the lesser charge of misdemeanor statutory
rape, which carries a maximum sentence of one year and a $1,000
fine, rather than aggravated child molestation. By the time he
was released on his own recognizance, Dixon had served 15-months
in prison. The District Attorney is filing a motion for reconsideration
with the court, and the girl’s parents are planning on suing the
school district.
Contrast Dixon’s situation with the case of Akrika Dawn, a University
of Colorado football player who was accused by a female student
of sexually assaulting her. Through DNA testing, Dawn, along
with an unidentified teammate, was cleared in 2004 of the rape
charge, but not before facing the possibility of serving time for
a crime he did not commit. The alleged victim reported to
the Boulder Police Department that in August 2002 she left a bar
very intoxicated with two Black men who may have walked her home,
and then was raped and sodomized by one of the men while the other
watched from an adjacent room. Unable to remember the events clearly,
she gave the description to the police that the men were "two
big Black men" and could have been CU football players. Dawn
and the teammate had been in the bar that same night. An
unidentified witness who saw them in the bar that evening gave
police their names. DNA tests later cleared both of the teammates,
but the damage to these young men had been done. In a prepared
statement, read by his attorney, Dawn proclaimed his innocence
and spoke out as a victim of racial profiling:
Dawn’s attorney, Nancy Holton, backed up his assessment stating, "In
Boulder, if you're Black, you're a sitting duck for accusations."
Mainstream victims’ rights advocates who were so vocal about
the rights of the alleged victims in the Kobe Bryant and CU sexual
assault cases, were silent when these Black CU students were
wrongfully implicated. Here were two verified victims of
racial profiling, and these organizations that championed rights
for victims had nothing to say. With these cases,
the principles of victim advocacy are at a crossroads where we
can either examine the contradictions that have always been part
of the legal system and victims’ lives, or we can continue perpetuating
the overly used one-size-fits-all analysis.
The overly simplistic rhetoric of victim
advocacy doesn’t address
the intersectionality of rape and racism. The either-or
approach doesn’t allow for an examination of the historical baggage
that is ever present when a Black man is accused of raping a
White women, a White man is accused of raping a woman of color,
or when men of color rape women of color. As documented
since the times of slavery when White men raped Black women with
impunity, it is apparent that all too often when a woman of color
is the victim of violence, society denies that a crime has occurred. In
other words, women of color’s experiences of violence are often
ignored or unchampioned since, historically, rape of women of
color was not seen as rape, but as a natural consequence of our “lascivious” nature. However,
violence against White women grabs the media attention, ignites
legislative action, inspires protests by women’s rights advocates,
and creates incentives for funding programs that continue to
maintain the status quo.
Until we have honest, challenging, and ongoing
dialogues to examine and rectify the contradictions within
our work, women
of color advocates will continue to work from within the margins
of a society that validates certain victims while excluding others.
Advocates must resist attempts to present issues as simple binaries:
good-bad, Black-White, victims-perpetrators, innocent-guilty. We
must be better prepared to give answers that are not just yes
or no, but sometimes yes and no in contradicting situations.
Here are some examples that require analysis between the margins: