Suffering in contrast

Over the years I have experienced a number of personal, local, global and intercultural tragedies that would put most to shame. From the shooting at Virginia Tech that claimed a number of friends, to my visit to Sudan to document the plight of refugees fleeing their homes, persecuted for their religious views by violent warlords, I have seen more than most and more than I would ever have desired to see.

Yet it is the story of one girl that I have learned of recently that may hit closest to home. This 16 year old girl was assaulted and raped in the OMI neighborhood three weeks ago. She was brutally attacked while waiting for the 14 bus near the corner of Sickles and San Jose Avenue.

In a country where safety is assumed and personal identity is paramount, this type of crime can be the most brutal. This was a violation of not only her personal liberties and freedoms but her sense of self. To tear into one's self-ascribed identity the way these attackers did is unconscionable. I'm going to write my crime story about her, for her and for others who would otherwise lack the voice or the volume to be heard.

I'm both excited and terrified to write this story, as I'm afraid that it will open a door that I will forever be unable to close. While I have seen suffering at its most guttural and vicious levels, suffering so near to my home and so real as not to be ignored is something completely different. This isn't something I am able to move away from or to leave and head back home. This is something I must explore and dig into its deep, dark corners in order to be as comprehensive as possible.

Hrm..