Disclaimer: If you're a sensitive type, prone to fainting at words like "sex", you might want to go somewhere else for now. Also, individuals who haven't seen me since I was 12-16 might be scarred by what you are about to read. And people under 18 shouldn't read.
This blog used to be titled 'Occasional Musings / Occasionally Amusing' but that was too long. And lately, it's been more-than-occasional musings, and very little that's been amusing. I almost thought about changing the title to "Rape and other things that annoy me" but I think that would really limit my future posts.
So, today, in response to the demand from my friend, Pam, I will tell you my most embarrassing story from law school. I alluded to it yesterday. And while it's on rape, it's not ranting about the subject (unlike today's earlier piece).
To date, I'm still quite proud of the fact that during law school - which is a postgraduate degree in the US - I was the President of the Christian Legal Society and a member of the Law Review, but still managed to get my name on a plaque at the local law school bar.
Unfortunately, I also developed a really bad Starbucks habit during law school. I had a slight addiction to their chai tea lattes, which unfortunately made me a little jittery and prone to saying inappropriate things.
In my second year, I took evidence alongside about 70 other people. Most of my 2L class was there, with a small smattering of 3Ls. I sat in a cluster of close friends. Down the row from me was the only ordained minister in our class, two seats over was my co-President of the Christian Legal Society, next to me, and in the rows surrounding me were all good friends that regularly made law school more enjoyable. Now, I won't ever discuss my current / recent love life, but this story happened about a decade ago and this fact is relevant: it was well-known in my law school that for religious reasons I was a virgin (no I will not be answering any questions raised by that statement; only that moment in time is relevant and so that is the only moment in time to be discussed).
Shortly before the day in question, I had started dating a new guy whom I was quite excited about (it still didn't last past three dates, but I really thought it would). Since there were 70 other people in the class, I sat down, opened my laptop, and figured I'd spend the first few minutes of class reading his latest email to me. What was the likelihood this professor would call on me? While she knew me by name, I sat off to the side of class and usually voluntarily participated so I didn't need to be called on on an impromptu basis.
I had the class book open, but it wasn't on the page with the relevant problem questions. As class started, I was dreamily reading the email from the boy, when I heard,
"Tara, why don't you tell us the answer to question 1."
I couldn't remember what the question was - though, obviously, I had diligently prepared all the questions the night before - so I had to quickly flip to the right page and skim the question. I could feel her eyes and felt the second hand on the clock as I tried to catch up to where I should have been already. The question was about a woman who had sex with two guys in one night; once was consensual but she was alleging the other was not. She had gone to the hospital, where photographs documented extensive bruising in her vaginal area and semen was extracted. The alleged rapist admitted to having sex with her, but said it was consensual. The defendant wanted to introduce evidence of the woman's other sexual encounter from that night. The question was whether the judge should let him.
I'm clearly an unapologetic feminist and I have documented my position on the issue of consent. I also understood the concept of slut shaming, though I don't know that we had that term back then. I hate the idea that a woman's sexual history can ever be introduced as some way of justifying an assault. I find the entire thing ridiculous, but simply saying that without a legal basis is inappropriate in a law school class. Instead, I said this:
"The judge should not admit the evidence. Under Federal Rule 412,* evidence of a victim's sexual history with someone other than the defendant can only be introduced in order to prove the source of the semen or physical evidence. Even then, it can only be introduced if the probative value outweighs the prejudice to the jury. In this case, the defendant acknowledges he had sex with the victim so there is no benefit to the evidence."
I was ready for her to move on. Silly me
"Okay, Tara, but what about the bruising?"
"Um, what about it?"
"Can't the evidence be used to show the bruising was from someone else?"
"Well, yes, but in this case given the competing claims center on consent only, the probative value is outweighed by the prejudicial effect of a jury hearing about multiple sexual exchanges in a single night."
She asked a follow up question, which I stumbled through. I hadn't thought about the bruising issue, but in law school you're rarely supposed to change your position. The professors can go in for the kill at that point.
And then she asked another question - again about the bruising. I was flustered at this point. I wasn't expecting to answer questions in the first place. I had barely skimmed the question and wasn't ready for the follow-up, had forgotten to consider the bruising, and really thought this professor would have moved on by then as she wasn't particularly known for hard-line Socratic Method.
Oh, and did I mention I had finished about 3/4 of my morning venti chai tea latte?
And then I blurted it out:
"I don't know, Professor [last name], some people just like rough sex."
As soon as it was out of my mouth, I wanted it back. All 70 students howled. I looked down the row to see the minister laughing so hard that tears came out as he pounded the desk. My co-president fell out of his chair. Literally, fell out of the chair. We didn't have chairs that were easy to fall out of -- they slid back and forth on a little metal rod and you were almost always hitting another chair next to you when you were getting in and out. But he fell out. Onto his knees. Between two other chairs.
And the professor froze. Not for very long, but long enough I knew I would have problems looking at her for the next 2 years. Her hand was mid-air, her finger pointed at me from when she had finished the question. Before the laughter could even die down, she regained her composure, pivoted, and said, "Um, okay, so..." and called on the next student -- someone sitting on the exact opposite side of the room -- for better clarification and a more legally constructed answer than "some people like rough sex."
Upon leaving the classroom, I was asked several dozen questions about how exactly I knew that and what I exactly I liked. I was also teased relentlessly about my "great legal reasoning" and "clear thinking." A few of the feminists in the room tried to comfort me with, "oh, don't worry -- everyone was thinking it; you just had the guts to say it." But it was pretty clear that it wasn't guts, it was stupidity. And no one else was thinking it.
For two years, I was known as the virgin with a penchant for rough sex. However that works.
* I don't remember if this was the right rule number back when I was taking class. It probably was. If it's not, does it really matter?
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