Know My Name: A Memoir

Miller continues to document her recovery process. The trauma of her rape has disrupted her once peaceful and carefree approach to life. Sleep proves especially difficult for her as the “unconscious, vulnerable state in which anything can happen” reminds her too much of her sexual assault (258). She notes the ways she has changed and admits, “I envy those who live unguarded” (259). Her life and approach to life has changed irrevocably because of the assault.

Miller provides an unfiltered look into her struggles with sex following her assault. She lists the multiple invasive photographs of her naked body and genitalia used as evidence in court, which disrupt her relationship with her own body. As a result of the assault, she now views sex as “something that hurt [her]” and wonders “how could it provide pleasure or safety?” (262). These questions lead her to want “to spackle up [her] holes, lock the whole place down, the machines in [her] shutting off, gears growing rusty and quiet” (262). She shares how she slowly begins to open herself up to sex by checking in with herself and grounding herself in the present moment. She documents her slow but meaningful progress and provides hope to fellow survivors when she addresses them directly in second person: “[J]ust remember: the temperature is slowly changing, you are adjusting. You will make it into that pond. With a little more time, you’ll be free” (267).

She continues to work on improving her self-worth. Miller sees herself in the senior dogs she fosters and enjoys “seeing their confidence and personalities emerge, as they [grow] more comfortable and [become] themselves” (268). Throughout this chapter, she explores her own journey towards becoming herself. She reviews the court transcripts as part of her writing process and fights off “the enraged feelings” that lead her to deride herself (269). She comments on how survivors internalize messages of shame that calcify and make them feel “impervious to praise” (269). The writing process forces Miller to confront “old ideas about who [she] was [that] resurfaced, told [her] [she] was damaged, unworthy” (269).

She balances these overwhelming feelings of shame and anger with what she hopes to accomplish with her memoir. She announces her attempts to follow the brave actions of the two Swedish graduate students who intervened on the night of her assault, saying their example teaches her how to “use [her] strength not to shove back, but to exercise [her] voice with control” (272). Miller clarifies that the goal of her memoir is not “to insult” those who wronged her but “to teach, to expose larger issues so that we may learn something” (272).

She uses the example of one of Turner’s friends to model this. She refers to a letter written by a female friend of Turner. The letter claims that what Turner did to Miller was not rape but “having clouded judgment” (273). Rather than attacking Turner’s friend, Miller instead breaks down the larger issues behind the statement. She analyzes how Judge Persky used the statement during sentencing to endorse an “outdated, distorted definition of rape” and issue a lenient sentencing (273). Miller claims that these actions affect not only her but also survivors in general, whose “healing becomes largely delayed, the recovery process butchered, the predator undeterred” (273). For Miller, the connection is clear. Such statements lead to real consequences, more mental anguish for survivors, and more sexual assaults.