Relating with Juli Bovard

The essay "The Red Chevy", by Juli Bovard has been written by a women whom has come to terms with the fact she was raped. The calmness in the tone of her writing said it all. So many women have read this essay and can easily put themselves her beside her laying in the field feeling exactly the same fears and confusion Juli Bovard felt. I know more women and girls that have been raped then have not. I have friends that have been taken out for a date and then it quickly becomes a situation of the guy wanting something in return and the girl feeling for some unknown reason feels as if they should comply. During my junior high days I saw naive girls being taken advantage of the fact these girls are desperate for any kind of male attention they can get. Girls usually do not even realize until they grow into women that they were abused. How cliche', I know, but more importantly how true. The worst rape I remember was back in 1994. My best friend and I went to a frat party and even though we were under age no one asked us to leave, but of course it was Wabash. I would love to see a true statistic on how many girls are assaulted on that campus every year. The privileged class can hide things better than the rest of us. My friend and I left the party and headed for our safe haven of our friend who had saved us from past bad experiences. We tried to sleep in our friends room because he kept others from us, like a big brother. Before we got to his dorm my friend wanted to stop off at the Beta House to see a guy my friend had been dating. His room was set up like a bar and the boys eagerly offered to mix us up a couple drinks. I remember putting my coat on to leave, but we never made it out the door. Both of our memories stopped here. The next thing that flashed in my mind was hearing my friend screaming. I kept trying to wake up, I was in between asleep and awake. I couldn't get to her. She was being gang raped by a group of boys she knew, and worst of all the boy she liked turned out to be the ring leader. They beat her so badly, she had ten stitches in her head, a black eye, swollen busted lips and a river of semen running down her legs. The boys had to call an ambulance at this point. They dressed her before the EMTs arrived and said she fell down the stairs. At the hospital doctors found chunks of flesh and skin hanging from her fingernails from where she had tried to fight. The lab report also concluded that both of our blood contained a date rape drug and alcohol. The frat boys had already began to protect their brotherhood by sending affidavits to the police stating that we were told to leave the Beta House and we had refused. The boys involved had all dashed to their places of their alibis, which were mostly from their rich parents. The detectives had all the physical evidence they needed to proceed with a formal investigation, but we were informed that no one in town including the prosecutor did not want to go up against Wabash College after about a week of questioning. Instead, my friend and I were given minor consumption charges and the boys walked with nothing. Privileged or not they will be judged and it will be in the highest court of God.