I do not often speak about my rape survival story. But since last summer, I've felt a growing need to speak out. I want you to understand why a sexual assault survivor favors dismantling the Minneapolis Police Department, and why I am so excited to vote "Yes for Minneapolis" in November.
It's time to amend our city's charter so we can continue the big, beautiful, challenging work of reimagining community safety for our city, beyond policing as we've known it.
When I was 18, I survived a random, violent rape. The perpetrator wore a mask and held a gun to my head. He broke into my home and threatened to kill me and everyone in the apartment if I didn't stay silent. It was the longest, most horrific night of my life.
When we did call the police the next morning, they aggressively questioned me without care or compassion. They were accusatory and terrifying. I remember looking at the guns in their holsters and thinking, "Why do I feel like I'm the one who committed a crime?"
But I grew up and grew through. I feel empowered to use my voice to speak the truth. I've learned to feel deep gratitude for the young person I was, who somehow found resilience and survived, even if she didn't heal all the wounds perfectly.
After George Floyd was murdered in May 2020, my neighborhood had many conversations about safety. I learned that some neighbors — mostly white, mostly men — feel more secure knowing that armed cops are a phone call away. In community conversations, they explained that they need police "because I have a daughter" … "because I have a wife" … "to defend my family."
What I understood was this: White men use the threat of sexual violence against "their" white women and girls to justify arming themselves with a racist police force. White women's fragility and vulnerability are used as shields constructed to cover the desire for these tools of violence. It's not a new story, and it's sickening to me, especially because of my own experience.
As a sexual assault survivor, I reject this role. I will not be used to justify a violent, oppressive police system. My pain — and the pain of other survivors — cannot be used as a tool to prop up a system that harms my Black and brown neighbors, friends and family, and that puts other people's loved ones at risk. I did not survive that horror to see my story appropriated by those with privilege to justify a system that perpetuates violence.
