Benefit of the Doubt

We always think we know more than we do. It's part of the human condition. We see it in kids who "know everything," and it's only as I've grown older that I've realized I still have so much to learn. So much to experience.

The more I know, the more I understand I don't know much at all.

That was the case after my rape.

You see, I went to a liberal arts college and knew people who have dedicated time and energy into preventing college sexual assault. They have worked with victims of all sexual and domestic violence. I followed that up with several jobs in news - I've seen how these sorts of cases play out. I thought I knew.

Naively, I thought that the truth would be so apparent. So overwhelming that other possibilities could never enter the question. I know, of course, that there have been cases where victims falsely accuse attackers for a myriad of reasons. Those people do a disservice to victims. They are part of the problem that creates a stigma that victims face. Part of the reason coming forward is so difficult.

You see, I learned during the course of trial preparations that I wasn't fully believed when I came forward the night of my attack. I didn't "look like" what a victim should. I didn't act like a stereotypical victim. One Lieutenant with the police force testified during my trial and said I reminded him of his officers on the force. I put aside my emotions as best I could and focused on doing what I needed to ensure that the officers had all the information I could provide to ensure my attacker would be caught.

But because of my demeanor, I wasn't readily believed by all the officers who responded. Only after my family arrived and The cracks in my armor began to show was I given the benefit of the doubt. I wasn't a puddle on the floor. I wasn't a blubbering mess. I put on a brave face and put forward as much strength as I could muster.

I don't harbor any ill will towards that officer. In fact, I get why he had his doubts. Still today, when I look back I find it incredible. But on that night, I knew the truth - and it was pretty unfashionable. It was hard to believe the series of events I described. That I was one of a much more elite group of rape survivors who were attacked by total strangers. And what's more, how I outwitted my attacker and convinced him to leave. Had I not lived it, I would have found it hard to believe.

Even after my attack, I've been privy to newsroom conversations where we're looking at police reports for other women who claim to have been raped. We question the validity of the narrative. I wish we didn't have to.

Where does all of that leave us? For me, as a survivor, I look for reasons to believe women who choose to come forward. It's far to easy to pick apart stories, look for reasons to doubt. Perhaps, though, if we gave the initial benefit of the doubt to victims - believe them when they speak and then look into the facts to verify their stories, we'll be able to find solutions to this type of violence that is so pervasive in our world.

I'm thankful for the other officers, my friends and prosecutors who took me at my word and then told me that the evidence they found did substantiate my claims. They didn't look for reasons to discredit me.

How fortunate am I that I was believed?

What would happen if we believed others first and gave that benefit of the doubt? I realize how naive a notion that is, but I hope that we can as a society move in that direction. If we believe, as our justice system says, in innocence until proven guilty for suspects, can we also as people give the benefit of the doubt to victims - at least initially?

Let the justice system sort our truth from lies, but as people choose to believe the truths we share? Listen with empathy and compassion and together work to sort out all the details? Can we empower victims to share their truth and believe them?

The benefit of the doubt is a powerful thing.