This monologue debuted at the San Diego MENding Monologues, (our sister/bro show), and it is a powerful show stopper about an attempted rape of a man’s sister 15 years ago. I’m adding it to our Northern Arizona University show on April 24, along with another monologue written by Christopher Burger called “Father Forgive Thy Self,” also part of the San Diego group.
It’s called To Whom It May Concern. And I can’t think of a more powerful piece to use for Take Back The Night rallies.
To Whom It May Concern,
You don’t know me, we’ve never actually met and to be truthful I wouldn’t recognize who you were if you passed right by me on the street or showed up on my doorstep to sell me Amway. Despite this, you have managed to change my life. Now please allow me to step back for a moment and explain. In order to do this, I am going to reintroduce you to someone you met, very briefly, some 15 years ago. Now bare with me, this will begin to make sense in a moment.
This person’s name is Ann. Ann lives in San Diego, where you two first met. At that time she was a fulltime college student, her husband was in the military. They didn’t have very much money; every dime they earned went to tuition, books, food and a decent roof over their heads. The cost of living forced them to the outskirts of San Diego where their daily commute took over an hour. Well, when you have to be at work before 7am you can imagine how early you have to start your day.
One particular morning Ann woke up, walked down to the kitchen and noticed there was nothing for breakfast. She threw on a pair of sweats and a t-shirt and drove down to the local grocery store about a mile and a half away. After purchasing her Special K and skim milk, she walked back to her car. That was when she met you.
She recognized that your van, conveniently parked between her car and the grocery store, was not there when she first arrived. I still wonder why she didn’t act on her initial uneasiness. No matter how many times people tell us to be careful, warn us of the dangers of being out in the dark and alone, we still never believe that we are going to be the victims of violent crime.
I guess Ann didn’t believe it either.
When she approached her car, you jumped out of your van. You wrapped one arm around her, the other held a knife which you kept against her throat. She was an inch or two away from her death. After you told her, in explicit detail, what you were going to do to her and her body, you began to open the van’s side door. Your plan was to force her inside and rape her.
Well there were a couple of factors you did not count on. One was the unwillingness of the van’s side door to open. The other was the unwillingness of Ann to allow you to take control of her body or her life. She had just that split second, when you became distracted by a stubborn door, to react and just enough wriggle room to douse your face in pepper spray. She fought back. She refused to be your victim.
In that early morning hour all of our lives changed; yours, hers and mine. That morning you learned that there are women out there who refuse to be a victim. Hopefully you learned that no woman should be a victim. That morning, an emboldened woman became an empowered woman. Ann realized that the word no does not stop at the end of her lips but at the end of those actions she deems inappropriate; and if her words are not headed, that she has the ability and the right to stop those actions. That morning I learned that violence against women directly affects me. I learned that when my sister goes to the grocery store early in the morning for cereal and a gallon of milk, that she has the right to do so without fearing a situation that will test her ability to say no and mean it. That violence against women in our society will not end until all of us, women and men, stand together and say enough. I learned that, as a man, my words and my actions have a direct affect on sexism in our society, that I have been at times a part of the problem and that I can be, and must be, a part of the solution. And that there cannot be any excuse from anyone as to why we would allow violence against women to occur.
So to you I give thanks. It was through you that I realized that everyone in my life has been affected by this type of violence because I have been affected. And I, like my sister, refuse to become your victim. It is because of that promise I made to myself that I stand on this stage today and share this story. It is because of you that each and every person in this room will realize tonight that they too have been affected by this type of violence if for no other reason than because they have heard this story. And it is because of you that my sister, and I, have been empowered and emboldened to do what we can do to end this violence.
We did not start this fight. But I will be damned if we don’t finish it.
With Thanks and Sincerity,
Me.
