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An excerpt from the Diary of Karla Scott

Monday, Sept. 5
I asked the girl sitting behind me in class today what sorority she is in. It was a completely random question. I just had one of those urges to make conversation. She gave me a funny look but told me the answer. We started chatting about fraternities and I did it... I outed him as a rapist. It felt so good, so empowering. I asked her if she knew him and she said "Yeah, he's hit on me." Then I told her what he did to me. All she could say was "Oh, ma Gawd!" and look at me with disbelief. Afterwards, I couldn't believe I'd been so brazen to tell a complete stranger. I blamed it on a surge of hormones when my period started later that day and I found myself crying for no reason. I could imagine her telling all her sorority sisters about the weird chick with an eyebrow ring and tattoo who told her she'd been raped by a frat boy that they all knew.

Wednesday, Sept. 7
The sorority girl pretended I was invisible today, although I looked right at her and I know that she saw me. So much for female solidarity. I guess it's easier than admitting to herself that the frat boy who she flirted with and considered going home with is a rapist. Even worse is a rapist who would have sex with a chick with an eyebrow ring and combat boots, then try to have sex with a "normal" girl like her. She assumed that just because I don't look like her, I must be a walking venereal disease. I could tell she was embarrassed for me because I had the balls to call him what he is: a rapist. She looked at me like I was a slut; like I must have "asked for it," that I must have wanted it because I was passed out and couldn't say no.

I listened to her flirt with some guy and gossip with the girl sitting next to her. "I'm, like, definitely going out on Thursday night." I imagine her sprawled on top of her Laura Ashley comforter, too drunk to move, with some guy on top of her. I wonder if she'll blame herself for the bruises on her thighs in the morning.

I know I make her uncomfortable and I'm glad. Maybe a shard of reality will pierce the wall of innocence and privilege that surrounds her. I know I must be crazy in her eyes for saying the words, "I was raped" in public. That simply isn't said by proper Southern girls from good families. It should be kept a secret. Remember to be silent about all that is ugly in life. Just smile and pretend everything is fine, just like your mother taught you.