The tragic death of Kobe and GiGi and the 7 others that passed Sunday is still unbelievable. He was someone I always viewed as invincible. I cannot stop thinking about how it must have felt to know you were going to die, and to come to terms with that in your final moments. I cannot stop thinking about what it’s like to lose your spouse, parents, daughter, friend at all — let alone in such a devastating way. I am not a religious person and I’m still asking what the purpose of this was. Because it feels so awful and undeserving for anyone.
I also feel deeply affected by who Kobe was in his past. And there’s a lot I want to unpack around those feelings because they are so complex and heavy that I have struggled with how to manage them in a healthy way.
I am a survivor of rape. It took me 10 years to openly speak on that and start to own everything I am because of that experience. I still struggle with the effects of that everyday.
Hearing of Kobe’s death, I cannot help but associate him with 2003. For me, seeing this man put up on a pedestal because of his athletic ability (truly the greatest to ever play the game) and watch his past behaviors overlooked and be deemed “redeemed” is very hard to sit with. Sure, he went on to do great things and quite frankly I think he was going to give this world a hell of a lot more good. But it is not for us to say what is redeemable. It is not for us to forgive. Only his survivor(s) can decide that. And to be clear, the rape isn’t his only “incident” but it is what is making me feel all of these emotions and where I’ve got to compartmentalize in this moment.
People are a spectrum of good and bad. And that scale can slide. You can talk about the incredible talent this man was, the amazing father, and the way he has become an advocate for women in sports. You can also talk about the way in which his rape case defines rape culture and how we value women in our society. It is entirely possible to discuss both. In fact to not do so, is not only wrong it further contributes to the problem we have in how we talk about and address sexual assault in the world.
There were so many people that helped him become a better man. People who worked with him to speak openly about what happened, who helped publicly to address the case and settle the matter and overcome it. But they also never addressed it for what it was. It was swept under the rug and overlooked. The victim was shamed during a time when that was acceptable.
To tell people today that they can’t talk about it is to dismiss its existence and importance entirely. It’s saying that I’m sorry survivors and allies — it’s STILL an inconvenient time to speak your truth and be seen. Others are grieving, your experiences do not matter because a great athlete has died.
Not one person is making light of this horrifying tragedy. For most people I think it’s created a realization that we are mere mortals that can be gone at any moment. Life is short and the good die young has never ever felt more potent.
Consider what it’s like to be survivor. I only know my truth so I’m going to share it and my internal struggles.
I was raped by a scholarship athlete. Certainly no Kobe, but in a small town at a time when you could still blame the woman for alcohol or having multiple sexual partners. I didn’t report because I worried about being believed. I worried about being shamed. I worried I would be told it was my fault. I worried about losing my spot on my team. I worried about losing friends. I worried about losing future partners.
So I didn’t report. Because speaking up is something I feared would mean I would lose it all.
When I see Kobe, I am reminded of how easy it is for men of societal worth, in sports specifically, to walk away the hero. The forgiven saint. The redeemed man who is seen as a great gift to the world. It gives me relief that I never reported.
To see him called a hero, be held up as this God like creature, it feels like all my hopes of where we have come are shattered. Because I am reminded that ultimately whatever “mistakes” you have made are just that, silly juvenile mistakes, and you’ve become better so all is forgiven. Survivors long forgotten.
Reading responses from strangers online attacking women and men for speaking up about the “complicated” nature of remembering and celebrating Kobe called horrific things. Some women even told they deserve to be raped for speaking up. That feels gut wrenching.
And it’s inescapable. I can log off everything, I can turn off the TV and it is still in every conversation, in clothing choices, in signs on the freeway, it is truly everywhere.
My rapist was an athlete too. My rapist became someone too. Am I supposed to consider myself a sacrifice because he eventually did better? It is entirely possible to forgive (and quite frankly the only forgiveness a survivor owes anyone is forgiving ourselves) and to never ever forget what you endured. I don’t owe my lack of consent to anyone. For any reason. It does not matter who my rapist becomes, my consent matters. It is not negotiable. Certainly not for anyone but me to give and take.
I read a really good thread on Twitter that gave me pause and gave me hope. Because more and more, people are openly talking about the mix of very real and important emotions this tragedy has evoked.
“It's not an impossible thing to reckon with, nor does it have to take away from grief and how important he was to so many people. But you can't use "flawed" as an escape. That's too cowardly.”
People are allowed to grieve however they need to. The casual fan who idolizes Kobe for his on court phenomenon is allowed to grieve a man he never knew. I am allowed to grieve a man who would go on to do great things for the world with grieving my own pain for what he represents.
I am allowed to feel absolute heartache and devastation for the family of Kobe Bryant and know that he was far from perfect. People are not black and white. They are a sum of many actions and experiences and some of them are very dark and very ugly. We do not set them aside simply because it’s not the time.
Stop asking survivors to sit comfortably because it makes you uncomfortable when we speak up. Stop telling survivors when to speak, where to speak and how to grieve. Merely surviving is an incredible feat. And every single survivor has a very different story. A very different set of outcomes and emotions and ways in which they are still affected.
Stop dictating when uncomfortable conversations are ok to have. And stop shaming others for speaking their very difficult truth. It is not my responsibility to make you comfortable with how I express and discuss my traumas.
Stop telling anyone how to exist and how to feel and how to be. Stop harboring resentment and assumptions and ridiculous expectations around how anyone other than YOU should do anything. Stop talking and start listening. Openly, without judgment, with the intention to learn, have empathy and to give love.
Stop being anything but a safe space for the world to figure out this messy and beautiful space we share for such a short time.
Stop choosing this hill to die on but say now is the time to have difficult conversations around race and inequality. Because this moment is important for everyone too. You don’t get to scream about the issues that matter to you and sit back when the ones that don’t affect you get in the way. You are all in for a better world or you are wrong.
We have created a toxic culture around sexual assault and the way we represent celebrities within that culture. The only way to effect change is to get uncomfortable and get real about the facts and the reality in which we exist.
Kobe created this reality for himself. And it’s his to own. It’s a story he created. Its a lack of respect for himself, others, and his family that he made the choices he made. That is not for me to own.
My story, my feelings, my grievances right now — they are valid, they matter and I won’t exist quietly about those intense and complex emotions. My sick to my stomach memories are so valid that I can physically feel the discomfort they’re creating.
I struggled with whether or not to write this piece. I wasn’t sure that I had the emotional capacity to endure the discussions that would come from what I had to say. Full transparency, I cried for the first time in a really long time (I cry maybe once a year for full context) as I sat down to write. At the end of the day, what I have to say matters. The women and men who have reached out about my complicated feelings remind me that I’m lucky I have a voice that speaks up. I am so thankful for those of you who cheer me on. Whether that be publicly or privately, your support matters.
I hope that ultimately what you get from this is that people are complicated. Feelings are complex. Trauma shows up in ways you can never understand and differently for everyone. The world is a better place when you can stop, breathe, and simply say I hear you and your feelings matter. Because they do. Everyone’s story is different. Show up for people. It’s not easy to speak a lot of things out loud, but if someone has the courage to speak, listen.
Id also like to say that in that same sentiment I am an open inbox for anyone who needs to talk. I know how it feels to feel unheard. To feel guilt for having very real emotions in a very confusing time. I will listen without judgment and I won’t tell you I know what it’s like because everyone has a different story and I never want to belittle yours. Whether you are comfortable speaking loudly or privately, speak. You matter and your story matters and I am so grateful for those of you who survive.
