Complicit

It didn't even occur to me, and I'm embarrassed. I suppose I can consider that 24-year-old me is the one who processed and filed away these conversations and this intel, but the red light never went on; not until a few weeks ago.

When my "ex-best friend," the only person I've ever had a true dramatic falling-out with was not at one of our mutual friend's memorial, I was pretty shocked. And then, not shocked. And then a bit judgy, but just for a moment, until I remembered what I had never been able to think about.

I was relieved to have the chance to honor Miranda (who passed during the pandemic) and reflect along with some other friends and members of our "college group." And there all of us were- showing up for each other even after all of this time.

But there was one person unaccounted for.

Trish wasn't among the people I actively "wanted" to see, but I had prepared myself as best I could. Maybe, I thought, this will be a good thing. We'll hug. We'll remember Miranda, and the fact that even if one or both of us want to erase it, our years-long friendship existed.

I had reached out about six years earlier, trying to "bury the hatchet" which sounds a bit cliche, maybe it was. My offer was somewhat snobbily refused, with, what I felt, was an oddly-cold response. We were friends a decade ago- I don't know what I can offer you. I hadn't asked to be friends, but I had suggested coffee.

Even though we never had a formal make up, we're in our late 30s now, so the optimistic part of me thought, at best, it would be nice to say hello, and at worst, we would cordially nod and speak to other friends instead of each other.

But no Trish.

Alec, sort of the questionable glue* that held the group together, filled me in on what happened when he reached out to Trish to invite her.

*Questionable because he was easily the most beloved- and part of that was not because of his charisma, but because there wasn't a single girl in the group he hadn't at least made out with. Groups have all sorts of ties binding them, tying them up in strange ways.

Contrary to how I felt about whether it had been a mistake to fall for Alec at one point, as every girl had, he wasn't the problematic one.

There was a story I told myself about why I actually lost touch with the group; It's not a lie that going on one stupid date with Alec sort of messed up my reputation/good-standing in the group, but it was complicated, and though I didn't regret anything, I lost something in that decision.

Apparently, I lost my perspective.

Somewhere in the middle of losing months of my life lamenting things not working out, I remember Trish talking about a night that didn't work out well for her.

It's a true gamble t0 allow any platonic friendships to turn otherwise, especially in a group- a reliable and often-wonderful, "what are we doing this Friday," kind of group.

I had taken a major gamble saying yes when Alec asked me out- fulfilling a secret wish I'd harvested quietly for months and never ever would have acted on. And we were okay after that. There were consequences to our actions- mostly mine... but we lived with the fallout of that gamble.

But what should not have been a gamble is when Trish similarly spent time alone with Kirk.

Trish said nothing when it happened, but one night she came out with it. She'd had sex with Kirk. That wasn't quite news- She had a habit/pastime/practice of getting intimate with male friends. Maybe that's why I missed what she was saying.

On the surface, she told that she'd had sex with Kirk, but immediately after, she told us she only wanted to make out. And he forced her.

She had already had some time to process this and had told one of our other friends about what had happened in Kirk's room. Our friend Charlie told her it was "common rape." A strange term- where had he gotten that? What were the resources we had for this in 2005?

I remember the shock from male classmates (a few years prior) seeing the (then-new-ish) play The Vagina Monologues which spewed statistics of just how common rape was. They didn't know. They had no idea; Especially because we didn't talk about it. And most of the acts of sexual violence committed against us went not only unreported, but unspoken.

It had washed past me like a wave. Trish was kind of nonchalant about it and when we (the 2 or 3 of us who were in the room) briefly got angry on her behalf, she brush it off so strongly, refusing to identify as a victim.

Did I fail her by jumping right to acceptance?

Some of the details are blurry, but I remember what it was like to hear that story. Although my lack of a response feels so foreign.

And 14 years later, I feel so icky about unpacking the fact that I also had an unacceptable (but less physically intrusive) assault experience involving Kirk.

When I revisited this, and thought about my own "minor" assault experience, I thought to myself, if I had been stronger, I could have helped Trish avoid that experience.

But I think it was the opposite. Because inarticulate as I felt at this time, in regards to assault, I think I would have spoken up if I had an inkling- we were roommates at the time. So maybe I somehow blocked that experience out, hearing about her rape...Maybe because it started as a consensual experience between them, I thought it was a mistake? Which also doesn't seem right.

But at some point, I had at least three scary, minor assault experiences with Kirk. To be fair to my jumbled up 24-year-old self, they were confusing. Wrapped up in my social-standing as the group virgin, innocent and wholesome, and not wanting to stand out in regards to that. At one point someone thought it was a great idea to pair me up with Kirk- it wasn't my idea and I wasn't interested in it going anywhere.

A few of us were cuddling on my bed and the other two people left, leaving me along with Kirk, who wrapped me up in a tight spoon position. Sweet, wholesome (even at 24) Genevieve goes oh this is nice. This is ALL I want to happen- I have no interest in Kirk, but I am content. And moments later he's pushing it- his arms are no longer resting over my waist- they are...other places. I'm pretty naive, but I know when something is escalating.

"Kirk," I say, "We are just cuddling."

"I know," he says, and I take enough time after that statement to wait, so he doesn't think I'm a prude. Because everyone already thinks I'm a prude. And I don't like that.

One of the other guys warns me at a party around that time. We are all a little tipsy, but if you have ever been around me drunk, you may not have realized I'm probably just a bit drunk. I don't mess around with substances too much- it's hard enough to protect yourself when you're sober.

I'm sitting on Kirk's lap and our friend, another guy, but probably the most trustworthy, says to be careful. There was a little more too it- but he knew ...something. Something I didn't.

Somehow I still didn't quite know it when we went on our camping trip that summer. The last camping trip I would take with this group. It was pretty cold and most everyone was coupled up. There was nothing flag-raising about when Kirk and I settled in next to each other. I think we were half of the only "non couple" tent, but whoever was with us, from what I remember, were also in a couple for the night.

I don't know how we got there, but there we were, just a big spoon and a little spoon. Had I just forgotten the previous time when he took it too far? Did I trust him implicitly that he understood nothing was going to happen? Kirk wasn't exactly the most socially intelligent person in the group. Did I think he didn't know how to use the zipper on a sleeping bag? Or was the voice telling me, "Genevieve, don't be a prude" simply louder than my voice of reason.

It was more of the same; what started as a cozy, safe, cuddle, inched it's way into an assault, one crossed line after another. I pulled away over and over and he pulled me back, aggressively. It doesn't even sound real when I describe it. Outside the tent, two of our group members were talking- they couldn't sleep. I kept trying to pop out, and I honestly can't remember if I ever did- I just remember being frozen, because my fight and flight couldn't decide between the two of themselves.

This has to have happened before he raped Trish, because I couldn't have been that stupid. Could I?

And looking back to the first incident with Kirk on my bed- it was Trish, who, with a giggle, had whispered to Miranda that they should leave me alone with him. Was my best friend just pawning off this low-level predator on me to get his attention off of her?

But I just can't pinpoint the order of events.

Regardless of the order... from the outside, years later, I want to say that we both should have been more vocal. Because although we were scared and in pain and ashamed, our silence makes us complicit. Is it too harsh of a word?

It sounds harsh. It sounds unfair. But so is being assaulted. It sounds unfair and it is unfair. But if the person who has been through it doesn't have some responsibility to let people know of the danger, who does have that responsibility? And who else has the ability?

When Alec reached Trish to invite her to Miranda's memorial, she said she had no interest in attending. She wasn't busy- she didn't want to join us. And for a brief second I thought it was because of our petty fallout, but I don't think that was it.

And I do sort of think it was because she was raped by one of our friends.

Sitting in this circle of friends where I feel so safe- where I feel this cozy nostalgia, even after more than a decade of seeing none of them, I am also so nauseated looking at Kirk.

But no one knows what he did. And how would they?

Or, do they know?

I don't think so, because how would they. No one told them. And whose job is it to tell them?

Am I still that fearful 24-year-old, afraid of being labeled a prude, and suddenly potentially an actual prude if I tell anyone it wasn't ok that Kirk crossed a line on multiple occasions... And it's just...not really my place to talk too much about what happened to Trish. I think a total of three of us heard her rape story- and I'm not sure if anyone else did.

Do the other people who heard it remember or did they find a way to brush it off?

I want to say I know better and do better. I'm very vocal about this subject, even delving into some activism.

But I have another past friend who assaulted me (on a date) a year ago and while I told that story in relative detail- I have told no one who it is. And it's someone I share over a hundred mutual friends with. What if it's like what happened with Trish and I'm the minor-upset and someone else had the "common rape" as our friend called it.

Whether you think I have an unmet responsibility here, if nothing else, this is part of why rape is so common. We're not helping the situation. Most of us, even the ones who want so badly to help...we're not helping.

When the assault happened on my date a year and a half ago I badly wanted to speak up. I talked about this with a friend on zoom this week- we had spoken about it, but there was a different urgency to my position, and an anger, probably because I've been thinking about what happened with Kirk and how I did nothing. I don't want to do nothing.

My friend said something I didn't expect- you know, if you want to tell people who it is you're allowed- and if you do, I will back you 100%. And she would... But I also know that for every person who would back me if I outed this man, three others might not. And I'm so tired of damaging my reputation to stand up.

But if a friend raises even the tiniest concern about this man whose reputation I have protected... I will be devastated. We need to stop doing this, and yet, in some ways I continue to be complicit.