It is not enemies who taunt me—
I could bear that;
it is not adversaries who deal insolently with me—
I could hide from them.
But it is you, my equal, my companion, my familiar friend,
with whom I kept pleasant company;
we walked in the house of God with the dirong.
Since the day Sophie walked into my office, I have been concerned about how survivors heal from the trauma of acquaintance rape. Sophies story is not unusual. She had been to a party where she had a few beers. When she announced she was heading home, David volunteered to escort her. At her room, David forced his way in and raped Sophie. She told only a few close friends; she did not tell her family. She thought she could [stuff it away.] Two years passed, and something came up in class that brought it all back. She could not eat, she could not sleep, she could not be in crowds, and she could not make sense of what was happening to her. Sophie walked into my office asking for help.
I was the college chaplain, and I knew little about acquaintance rape. As a girl, I had been reared to be wary of dark alleys and unfamiliar men in trench coats. I was taught that as long as women locked their doors, moved en masse (never alone), had welllighted sidewalks, and dressed appropriately, the dangers were minimal. But Sophies experience of violence did not fit into these categories. Rape by a friend: That seemed to me a contradiction in