A week before Ada stopped going to school, I had been preoccupied and angry, outraged by the US Senate’s reaction to superior court nominee Brett Kavanaugh’s proceedings after a professor had accused him of sexual assault. When Christine Blasey Ford spoke about her attack, her words echoed how I had felt during my own college rape. How was it that a bunch of mostly old, white men, who had never experienced rape or assault, were to make this final decision? They said all the things women who experience assault hear over and over again. Why did it take her so long to report the assault? Why couldn’t she remember where the assault took place? Why didn’t anyone else at the party remember it? Was she doing this for fame, notoriety? How could such a decent man commit such an atrocity—it couldn’t have been him. They apologized to Kavanaugh over and over again, in front of me, in front of a nation of assault survivors. And the US president mocked Ford at a rally and said every man should fear being falsely accused. How was it these men, so out of touch with survivors and women in general, had the power to put into office a man who could ultimately decide the future of so many issues affecting women?
I decided to return to counseling. At my appointment I told my counselor, an expert in trauma recovery, about my anger with the Kavanaugh hearing. I outlined what I had learned from writing my book. “What you have done is courageous,” she said. “You took time to understand what you’ve been through, to look it straight in the eyes, analyze it, explain it to your family and to yourself. However, I don’t think you’ve ever felt it.”
Her words stung. They were true. Although I had cried about the man once in college, I had never allowed myself to examine how I felt, perhaps afraid of what I would find. But there was one time, not long ago, when, as I sat outside with my husband drinking wine, I talked about the man, how funny he was. I told stories—how he melted salt pork into his pasta e fagioli. “Don’t strain it out,” he had told me when I asked him for the recipe. I loved his pasta e fagioli and was willing to add a little unhealthy fat to my diet, so I kept the salt pork when I cooked this dish. And I remembered once, when I had shown him a photo from Christmas. The photo was of my brother holding up a new T-shirt. But I had snapped the picture from behind the couch and there, in the photo, on the back of the man’s head, was a big bald spot in the center. My brothers and I were laughing like crazy when we showed him. He took the picture, a pen, and colored the spot in, right in front of us. As I talked about the man tears poured down my face.
Acknowledgments
I have begun this page so many times and I’ve finally come to the conclusion that the number of people who have helped me over the past twelve years is impossible to count. You have all made a difference. So many people shared a smile when I needed one. Some of you were there with me in the trenches every day. Many of you appear in my stories. I have received donations, kind words, fearless listening, tears, love. For those of you who read my chapters and provided feedback, thank you. You moved this book forward. To those who donated to my book’s publication, thank you. Without you I would not be reaching this milestone. To those of you who challenged my ideas, asked me difficult questions, and helped me move forward, thank you. You guided me toward understanding some of life’s greatest mysteries, some personal, some profound and universal. To the many who sent encouraging letters, emails, texts, cards, messages, and words, and bore witness to my story, thank you. You kept me going. To the colleagues, friends, and students who invited me to speak on the topic of women and violence, thank you. You helped me be there for others. To my family, thank you for holding me up during difficult times. To my students and children, thank you for teaching me how to be vulnerable, alive, and a part of this world. To Word Creative Literary Services and Emory’s Center for Faculty Development and Excellence, thank you for your encouragement, you helped me believe in my work. To my publisher, She Writes Press, thank you for so many reasons! You make dreams happen! It has been a twelve-year collective journey and during those years I have grown into the person I have always wanted to be. And you were all a part of it. For me, you have made all the difference.
About the Author
Author photo © Annemie Tonken
Christine Ristaino teaches Italian and is the faculty advisor for a number of programs related to social justice at Emory University. She has coauthored an academic publication titled Lucrezia Marinella and the “Querelle des Femmes” in Seventeenth-Century Italy and the first edition of a book series, The Italian Virtual Class. Ristaino specializes in Italian language pedagogy, language teaching, cultural acquisition, community engaged learning, and Italian memoir. She writes and publishes articles and op-eds on overcoming violence, having difficult conversations, and equity.
SELECTED TITLES FROM SHE WRITES PRESS
She Writes Press is an independent publishing company founded to serve women writers everywhere. Visit us at www.shewritespress.com.
There Was a Fire Here: A Memoir by Risa Nye. $16.95, 978-1-63152-045-7. After a devastating firestorm destroys Risa Nye’s Oakland, California home and neighborhood, she has to dig deep to discover her inner strength and resilience.
Splitting the Difference: A Heart-Shaped Memoir by Tré Miller-Rodríguez. $19.95, 978-1-938314-20-9. When 34-year-old Tré Miller-Rodríguez’s husband dies suddenly from a heart attack, her grief sends her on an unexpected journey that culminates in a reunion with the biological daughter she gave up at 18.
The Full Catastrophe: A Memoir by Karen Elizabeth Lee. $16.95, 978-1-63152-024-2. The story of a well educated, professional woman who, after marrying the wrong kind of man—twice—finally resurrects her life.
Second Chance: A Mother’s Quest for a Natural Birth after a Cesarean by Thais Derich. $16.95, 978-1-63152-218-5. Traumatized by an unwanted cesarean, Derich begins the long journey toward learning to trust herself so she can go against societal norms and give birth to her second child the way she wants: naturally, and at home.
The Buddha at My Table: How I Found Peace in Betrayal and Divorce by Tammy Letherer. $16.95, On a Tuesday night, just before Christmas, after he had put their three children in bed, Tammy Letherer’s husband shattered her world and destroyed every assumption she’d ever made about love, friendship, and faithfulness. In the aftermath of this betrayal, however, she finds unexpected blessings—and, ultimately, the path to freedom.
Raising Myself: A Memoir of Neglect, Shame, and Growing Up Too Soon by Beverly Engel. $16.95, 978-1-63152-367-0. A powerfully inspiring and unflinchingly honest story of how best-selling author and abuse recovery expert Beverly Engel made her way in the world—in spite of her mother’s neglect and constant criticism, undergoing sexual abuse at nine, and being raped at twelve.
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