Full Moon of Faces

It was October 1975 when Take Back The Night signs were first carried by a crowd in Philadelphia as they protested the stabbing and murder of Susan Alexander Speeth, a biologist walking alone after work for some fresh air. Decades later, I interviewed her daughters to understand what the loss of their mother meant to them then and now. They had mixed feelings about this movement to end sexual violence.  Their grief at losing their mother at such a young age was understandably still close to the surface of their hearts and minds. 

The history of Take Back The Night and our larger efforts to support victims, raise awareness and address sexual violence reveals a cacophony of approaches, voices, and strategies.  We have yet to truly make significant dents in the rates of perpetration or numbers of victims.  What we have done better is reveal ourselves who are victims.  We are finding each other, giving interviews, making documentaries, creating blogs, writing songs, giving speeches.

Personally, my first Take Back The Night event was 1991. It was still my first year of college after my September rape, after meeting Larry King on live TV for a debate with my college’s Vice President of Student Affairs.  I will never forget how honored I felt when James Madison University’s organizers asked me to kick off their march with a speech.  The invitation instilled in me the determination to find a way to crawl my battered, mind-body-spirit, over to JMU on the other side of Virginia from my college, William & Mary.  When I showed up on the quad that April, I was stunned.  There were LOTS of people.  There were some men.  At my college earlier that month there had been just a sliver, a slip, a barely there crescent moon in number of women who had come together for TBTN.  Over at JMU, there was a full moon.  It was exhilarating! 

That was the first time I discovered, realized I was not alone, not even close to alone.  There was a full crowd of others who stood up against rape and for public outcry.  As we gathered in the quad, I was adrenaline-flushed with our rebellion.  I was instantly hooked!  This can work.  This is a pathway to effect change through awareness in a very public setting by using our “I” pronouns. 

As we wrap up this year and begin to look toward the next academic year, challenge yourself and your community to find more ways to empower survivors to speak up, come forward, access resources.  A full moon of shining faces revealing themselves turns into an undeniable force to add more emphasis on the importance of educating EVERYONE, not just those who just turn out for a single awareness event one night a year.

Each month, I share snippets, stories, and slices of my journey as an educator, activist, author, speaker, and survivor. By Katie Koestner.