I Have the Right To

by Chessy Prout

  While we knew a lot of information about St. Paul’s academics, sports, and ideals of serving the world, in hindsight, we didn’t really know anything of the daily culture, even after having a child attend for three years.

  Looking back, we are painfully reminded of the questions we didn’t ask when we sent our daughters to St. Paul’s School, and the assumptions we made:

  • That our daughters’ bodies would be respected and that they had complete control over their sexual interactions and environment.

  • That the school recognized it was important to teach its students how to treat one another, and enforced ethical policies when these standards were violated.

  • That female students are as important to the community as male students.

  Those assumptions and unasked questions have had a huge impact on all our lives. We learned the answers in the hardest way possible. We discovered St. Paul’s had turned a blind eye to sexual assault for decades. We realized that in a fully residential boarding community like St. Paul’s, there appears to be little oxygen to keep the cultural corners clean, bright, and safe—functioning as parents would expect.

  We encourage parents and guardians to take the time to learn what lies beneath the veneer of any institution—whether it’s a boarding school, college, or summer program. Ask the questions we wish we had asked: What traditions does the school culture hold near and dear? How many sexual assaults are reported? What training is provided to administrators, teachers, and coaches? What support is available to victims?

  TALKING TO YOUR CHILDREN

  Reading Chessy’s book, we were sad to learn what a burden she felt she was on the family. It reminds us how critical it is for parents to let their children know how important they are to them, how important they are, period. What courage is, and what courage it takes to grow up well, and honestly. That when your child enters high school, you never lose sight of making sure your kid is the kid they have been and are meant to be.

  As much as parents are uncomfortable discussing sex with children, tweens, and teens, our culture has taken the wheel from us and is charting the course, if not steering the ship. As parents of three daughters with a ten-year age gap, we have witnessed this quickening pace of widespread sexually charged culture.

  Sex is a part of the school curriculum, whether it’s official or not: jokes, teasing, social media, and real pressures—along with devastatingly criminal games of sexual conquest and predation.

  Parents must have conversations with boys and girls from a young age about what consent and healthy relationships mean. It’s not enough to wait for schools to take the lead.

  The conversation has to be shifted away from blaming the victim: Why did you drink too much? Why did you go with him? What were you wearing? Instead, we need to talk about changing the behaviors of the perpetrators. In particular, mothers and fathers need to talk to their sons about respect, entitlement, and consent.

  Sexual assault is a physical violation of your body, but it also damages your self-esteem and self-worth. It can have a devastating effect when transitioning from child to minor teen to young adult. It can stunt your education or growth as a person. Sexual assault made Chessy question her basic rights as a deserving member of the community we call humanity.

  We have grappled throughout this journey with how to explain sexual assault in age-appropriate ways to Chessy’s younger sister, Christianna. She was just seven when her sister was assaulted, and we had never discussed sex or sexual assault at that point. It has been very important to us as parents to convey what Chessy experienced and how her sister has struggled and fought to regain a sense of control over her life.

  We started with “a young man at school hurt your sister, and the authorities are asking him to take responsibility.” But suffice it to say, we were so encouraged by her role in coming up with the #IHaveTheRightTo initiative and her simple statement: “Sounds like it’s time for a girls’ bill of rights!” It’s a good step in the right direction.

  We will never forget when we picked Christianna up from two weeks at sleepaway camp at age ten and an adult counselor told us that we should be proud of her for standing up for herself to some mean-girl activity. It will be a process, we recognize, to develop her understanding of what her sister has experienced. The conversation is ongoing.

  OUR FAMILY TOLL

  Our family has leaned heavily on each other and tried to avoid the paralyzing abyss of sadness and anger when challenges arose. We struggled with daily anxiety over our reputation and our long-term finances. There were many times we wanted to lash out in anger and defiance. When one of us felt overwhelmed or despaired, the other parent rallied and refocused our lens on healing and justice.

  Despite our hopes and best intentions, our family suffered at the expense of the time spent on this process. This was a sad by-product, especially for our youngest daughter. We hope someday she will forgive us, and understand that the toll exacted on her childhood, the hours behind closed doors, were not for lack of love for her.

  We also want to acknowledge Lucy’s strength and wisdom to say the right words to her sister and have the wherewithal to hold Owen accountable by punching him in the face. She has lost her SPS peer community. She has changed the course of her studies to justice and peace and is trying to impact the world in a positive manner.

  We humbly recognize that our ability to find strength was God-given and continues to be a blessing and a matter of grace.

  SUPPORTING SURVIVORS

  Some days, it has been easy to figure out what to do to support Chessy. We tried to show her in words and action that her family’s love for her is stronger than the hateful crime against her, against her body.

  We bound ourselves together with the things that make Chessy tick and make her an integral part of our family dynamic of three daughters: her incredible love of all kinds of music and food; her sense of humor and distinctive laughter; her encyclopedic knowledge of funny YouTube videos and pop culture; her love of sports, all things Japanese, babies and children, and puppies; her ever-growing and inquisitive faith. And, more recently, we’ve had much discourse on the political landscape with our children, to engage them in their futures and what kind of world they want to live in.

  We made sure family was around Chessy whenever she would permit herself to be surrounded. We are so grateful we had that support from our families. We are trying to do whatever we can to make sure that Chessy lives the life she was meant to live. Chessy will decide how much she wants to make advocacy a part of her life. But we as parents are committed to this fight until our last breath.

  Other days, it was and is still difficult to know what to do to help ease her pain, except be with her. Or nearby. We are not perfect and are certainly not experts in any way—just parents who love their children. The journey after sexual assault to survivorship is jagged, not linear. At this stage of our lives, we depend on love and faith to guide us and hold us together. And we continue to educate ourselves on how rape culture thrives and ways to combat it.

  We entered into the nightmare tunnel of sexual assault together—and will keep trying to find the light at the end, together. We are committed to seeing that we each arrive safely to the other side, however long it takes!

  YOU ARE NOT ALONE

  We have come to understand that sexual assault happens far more often than people have been willing to admit, and that sometimes it takes many years to name an experience. One in four girls has been the victim of sexual assault or sexual abuse by the age of seventeen.

  No one wants to believe it can happen to them, to their child, sister, mother, aunt, friend. We understand that, and also had that mind-set. But the fact is quite different. It has happened to someone close to you. But they have remained silent, like so many other victims.

  To teens and survivors, we parents are often not perfect—but we can be a good place to start. Communicating with a trusted teacher, an adult in your church or religious community, a mature friend, o
r an older sibling can make all the difference. You are not alone, nor should you be. You deserve love, compassion, and support.

  You deserve information on what your options are to move forward. Gather more information, not less. Call your local rape crisis center. Find out about the statute of limitations. In many places, you can get a rape kit test done now and decide later whether you want to pursue the case in criminal court.

  All victims and circumstances are unique. Every family’s experience is unique. Everyone has a story, and they are all a little different—but this is what motivates us to shine a light, to recognize you are not alone in searching for your right to justice and healing.

  When Chessy went public on the Today show, we heard from people all over the world, and it gave us hope that justice can prevail and survivors can regain their voice. By speaking out, our family has formed a new community, a real community, with survivors, advocates, and supporters. This community is out there for you.

  A NOTE FROM COWRITER JENN ABELSON

  My mission as a reporter for the Boston Globe is to hold powerful people and institutions accountable.

  As a member of the paper’s Spotlight Team—which gained international attention because of the Oscar-winning film about its work (Spotlight)—I’ve exposed top surgeons secretly operating on two patients at once and slumlords cramming college students into dangerous apartments.

  My most complicated work began in 2016, when I joined a team of reporters who turned their attention to sexual misconduct in private schools. I journeyed into a world of privilege and elitism, where high school teenagers lived on their own like adults and were left to make up their own rules.

  In our investigation of these institutions, we discovered a pattern of horrific abuse of boys, reminiscent of the Catholic Church abuse scandal uncovered by the Spotlight Team in 2002. We also saw evidence of pervasive sexism and entitlement that enabled male teachers and students to prey upon girls. School leaders turned a blind eye; fellow students shamed those who spoke out against this culture; and administrators, trustees, and alumni tried to silence victims. It was epidemic.

  During our prep-school investigation, I talked with more than one hundred survivors and learned the devastating toll that silence takes on victims. I heard about struggles with substance abuse, suicide attempts, and failed relationships. Most of these abuse survivors had little hope for systematic change—or closure.

  One institution that refused to participate in our investigation altogether was St. Paul’s School in New Hampshire. I was shocked when they accidentally forwarded an internal email that said, “We want to be polite but don’t want to add anything new to the conversation.”

  St. Paul’s had come under intense national scrutiny in recent years after a popular senior, Owen Labrie, was arrested and put on trial for sexually assaulting a fifteen-year-old in a ritualized game of sexual conquest.

  Chessy Prout, unlike many victims, reported her attacker to police, testified against him in court, and won a conviction. When St. Paul’s refused to take steps to address the toxic sexual culture, Chessy and her family filed a civil lawsuit. And when St. Paul’s tried to bully the teenager by threatening to reveal her identity, Chessy fought back and appeared on the Today show, speaking publicly for the first time in 2016.

  I’d long been inspired by Chessy’s willingness to stand up to her perpetrator and to one of the country’s most prestigious schools. Once we met, though, I knew I wanted to help her tell her story. I felt a responsibility to shatter the silence that surrounds victims of sexual assault. It was time for a young survivor to have her voice heard. And it was time for leaders at St. Paul’s and the entire school community of students, parents, faculty, and alumni to be held accountable.

  As a reporter, I was deeply impressed by Chessy’s attention to facts and details. She’d kept journals, text messages, Facebook exchanges, emails, photos, and other records that helped tell her story. She even documented mistakes she made—like the time when she posted a comment on the Concord Monitor’s website and thought it was anonymous. She took a photo before removing the comment. We spent hours together every day, week after week, exploring the most intimate, uncomfortable moments of her life. Nothing was off-limits.

  I’m sure it was difficult for her to let me into this private part of her world, but she trusted me, and I am grateful.

  I’ll disclose that the bond I felt with Chessy was also deeply personal. More than two decades ago, I had a crush on a public high school English teacher that veered into uncharted waters when he began sending me William Butler Yeats’s poetry and calling me his muse. I remember his hand lingering on my back moments longer than it should have while I stood in the private office he had as chairman of the department. After a fleeting sense of excitement, I felt dread. I stopped going to his class. I panicked every time I saw him. I felt partly responsible. My mother found emails from the teacher on our new AOL account and confronted me. I pleaded with her to wait until I graduated to say anything to the superintendent.

  The next year, when I discovered that the teacher had behaved similarly with another friend, I knew I had to speak up. I didn’t want anyone else to feel the same guilt and shame. During a visit home on a break from college, I stormed into his office with a tape recorder in my purse. I closed the door behind me and told the teacher I knew how he was treating girls and it was wrong. He needed to stop. I’d be watching him.

  Years later, as I saw Chessy tell her story with such courage, I started thinking about how frightening my experience could have been if I had attended boarding school, where I didn’t see my parents every day. What would I have done if there had been no boundaries between school and home?

  Chessy’s trauma is far worse, and she is confronting it in a different, more public world where people can find her online and harass her on social media. From the moment she told her story, even to close friends, she’s been called names. Shamed. Punished.

  I was—and continue to be—in awe of her strength. It was a great honor to work with Chessy on this book, named for her incredible campaign. She risked everything to do what’s right, even when it involved taking the most difficult path.

  I hope this book will encourage others to speak up for what’s right in the face of injustice. I hope it empowers survivors and makes them feel less alone. I also hope her story inspires real change. Chessy has the right to demand that. The rest of us should too.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  CHESSY PROUT

  Thank you to Catherine Ruffle for taking my case and fighting for justice, and to the victim advocates Barbara Jacobs and Sarah Heath, who made sure to educate me and my family on the criminal justice process and for calling me a “rock star” on some of my lowest days. Thank you to Grandma Prout for showing me what graceful strength and determination looks like, and Uncle Tom for helping me find my path in faith, reminding me that every day is a blessing, and to keep fighting no matter what. Thank you, Uncle John and Aunt Judy, for your help and support in Concord. I’m grateful for the constant support of my aunts Frannie and Cathy, and cousin Katie, throughout my entire life. Thank you to Uncle Bernie and Aunt Blair—who in the midst of it all had their own obstacles to deal with—for their unconditional patience, care, and support. Thank you to AC and UP for taking care of us always in Naples, and to Aunt Carol, Aunt Linda, Aunt Deb, and Uncle Jon for their support, compassion, and strength, which I admire so much. Thank you to my cousins Peter and Tony and Cameron and Christian for showing support and sympathy at the courthouse, and for your ongoing support and interest in the issue of sexual assault prevention.

  Thank you to Detective Curtin and Detective DeAngelis for believing me and for seeing my case through, something few survivors experience. Without Detective Curtin, I never would have met Laura Dunn. Laura’s tenacity, strength, patience, and fierce compassion helped keep me in line when anger got the best of me, and kept me going when sadness overwhelmed me. Thank you for speaking out for my family during
the trial, and for introducing us to the Steves. I am grateful for Steve Grygiel, who taught me that if a loaded question from a defense attorney cannot be answered with a yes or no, I have the right to explain myself, because I am only speaking up to tell the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Steve Kelly’s patience with my father will always impress me, but his passionate pursuit of justice will always inspire me most. Amanda Grady Sexton, director of public affairs at the New Hampshire Coalition Against Domestic and Sexual Violence and city councillor in Concord, New Hampshire, as well as the entire team at NHCADSV, are the fiercest advocates in the truest sense of the word. During the trial, letters, emails, phone calls, and notes from other survivors and strangers made me feel less alone and showed me that there really is a community of people in the world who care about survivors.

  So many survivors of sexual assault are met with doubt and blame, but Deputy County Attorney Catherine Ruffle and Assistant County Attorney Joe Cherniske met me with compassion, respect, and determination to fight for the truth. They also gave me and my family a safe space to retreat to during the trial, and helped preserve our privacy as much as they could. The many family friends who have been by my family’s side and have stayed there through the tumult will always hold a place in my heart.

  Too many people turn a blind eye to sexual assault, but thank you to the professionals for helping me reclaim my story. To Cinny Murray and Eric Singleton, thank you for helping us fight back on the Internet. Dan Hill, thank you for showing us how to communicate effectively with the media, and for standing up for this issue so strongly.