I've spent the past few days consciously avoiding the news coverage and endless social media posts regarding the Stanford rape case. The cries of outrage directed at the perpetrator, his father, the judge. And to be honest, I've especially avoided the victim impact statement from the woman involved. 

I didn't read it because I had a pretty good idea of what it would contain, and when I finally did read it today (to obtain a context for my own - these- words that simply needed to come out), it was indeed what I'd expected. Heart-rending and horrible and visceral, without a doubt. But also uncomfortably close to home.

Without any intention to belittle the events that occurred, I do take issue with the lynch-mob mentality that pervades the Internet, these outcries that, in many cases, snowball into something even more ugly that the precipitating event. And promptly get forgotten as soon as the next rallying cry comes along.

Again, without any intent to diminish the horror that was visited upon this woman, and certainly without intent to oppose the ridiculous leniency of the alleged punishment that was meted out, I would beg to suggest that the young man in this case received a far more severe treatment than most who perpetrate this crime. 

Most of them, in fact, don't get punished at all. Or blamed. For them, life goes on as normal. 

Rather, it's the survivor (I don't like the word, but I object even more strongly to the accepted term, victim, because that perpetuates the state of violation) who bears the brunt and pays the price. All too often, she is blamed, perhaps not in so many words, but tacitly, in innuendos and what ifs and should-have-known-betters. Or she blames herself, because the person who did it refuses to recognize the violation, the fact that something incredibly precious has been stolen and sullied. And into this void flows copious amounts of shame, which settles in for the long term, as an intrinsic part of the self.

And nobody wants to talk about it. She doesn't either. It's too awkward, too painful. The shame needs to be shut up in a little box of darkness and she needs to protect it against any incursion. Her dirty little secret. Forever.

If you are reading this, I can guarantee you that someone close to you carries such a darkness in her. It could be a cousin, a colleague, a friend. She's grown a second skin that may look happy and rosy and normal on the outside, but under that skin is another one you don't see, much more bruised and broken than you'd imagine.

So rage as you care to about this Stanford case. But realize that it's a case study among far, far too many.