Academic Honor

I have been encouraged by some friends and mentors to post this, because maybe its a big deal and honor! A paper I wrote for a senior level poetry class, the paper received a 100/A and was submitted to the Texas Tech University Second Annual Responsible Conduct of Research Conference.
TTU Conference

Well, the paper was accepted. This means that I will conduct further research and add more content to my paper. My school is helping me attend the conference to have the honor of presenting my paper in front of scholars. The paper will then be published and sent to grad schools all over the nation.

Ok, so maybe it's a big deal....its an academic honor!!

So if you are interested, here's the paper as it stands now:

                                                                       Bullets of Life

            “Give me liberty or give me death!” was a famous quote from Patrick Henry that was pivotal in the history of America. The idea of being a martyr for something one believes in is noble; however is it always the best option? In death, is a cause or resolution really accomplished? I do not wish to negate the lives of those who have died for a cause or a country but rather I want to explore the idea of being faced with the question “Would you rather die for your virginity or be raped?”

            Many years before America was founded, a man by the name of Ovid wrote controversial poems covering taboo topics of sex, lust, adultery, rape and abortion and how all of these topics are related to the mystery of love. In his collection titled “The Art of Love: Book 1”, beginning with line 109, he describes a scene where men are calling dibs which woman would be theirs for the taking.  “Project Rape was on. Up they/ sprang then/ With a lusty roar, laid hot hands on the girls.” (I: ln114-116).  He goes on to describe this nightmarish scene “So this wild charge of men left the girls all panic-stricken,/ Not one had the same colour in her cheeks as before” (I: ln 119-120).            The poem’s telling of such a tragedy seems fairly accurate with the accounts of “The same nightmare for all, though terror’s features varied:” (I ln: 121). However, when discussion began and we were faced with the question these women were faced with, I was shocked of some replies.

            “Would you rather die for your virginity or be raped?” was begged in the classroom discussion. I heard many women respond with a passionate “Kill me” or “Someone has to stop it!” I sat and listened and pondered my own answer. Would my choosing assisted suicide really help other women? Would my death bring hope to those left behind?  My answers kept bringing back to the night of my personal fate, to my rape; except this time I pictured him with a gun, screaming this hopeless question at me.

            With his hand on either of his loaded guns, I must in a moment choose of which bullet I will take. Dying for my virginity will not solve anything. It’s just sex, unwanted albeit, but just sex. If I choose the bullet of death, over the bullet of life, this violence against women will not stop. This choice only says that his bullet of death life will save me from a dark, hopeless place of which I will never survive.  It is a complete surrender of myself and he wins.

            On the other hand, choosing the bullet of life, I will prove to rise above. I will not let him take anything away from me but rather give me will to live. There is hope and there is life after the attack of his loaded gun and its bullets. There is my life of which I will never surrender to him so easily.

            Even now, looking back on to the darkest days after my attack, I would still choose to be attacked rather than be killed. I would choose his bullets of life over his bullet of death. Yes, I was virgin when I was attacked and I can remember the days that Ovid speaks of in his poem “Some tore their hair, some just froze/ Where they sat; some, dismayed, kept silence, others vainly/ Yelled for Mamma; some wailed; some gaped;/ Some fled, some just stood there. So they were carried off as/ Marriage-bed plunder;” (I: ln 121-126).

            Sure, the attack was horrific, my greatest nightmare come to life. I would rather not relive the details but I never want to forget the night. Just as pivotal as Patrick Henry’s declaration was in America’s history, so was that night pivotal in my history. The person I am in spite of what I should be because of his bullets of life should prove that death is not always the best way to achieve the change of which one is striving.

            I do not believe I am a martyr nor do I view myself as a victim, instead I choose the word victor. There is hope and hope for a better life after one’s rape and I want my life to prove such truth.  Sure, there are still rapes and will be until the end of time, but if my experience can help just one other person survive those nightmarish days after the bullets of life, then it’s not in vain and what was meant as violence and desecration is now good, a rebirthing of sorts.

            I will forever stand by my argument to choose the rape over death and I believe I have that right being that I have been raped.  The point is this: Death is death. Death is not hope. Living and rising above, that is where changes are made and hope is born.

            Life after a tragedy is not easy; however there is no life on earth after death. In life we have obstacles, trials and hardships however, without these the human race would not appreciate the value of life. Change and hope are birthed in the aftermath of a tragedy. Hope is getting up after everything sacred, everything that is safe and familiar has been stripped away. Hope is picking up the pieces when everyone expects failure or when the strength is just not there. Hope is moving on a better and stronger person in spite of tragedy. Living is the ultimate revenge, not death.