It is the right time to reclaim the definition of target, writes Danielle Campoamor.

We sat on a home stool, shivering, while a tired, nearly frustrated police haphazardly squeezed the medial side switch of their handheld radio perched atop their neck. “The target is a 25-year-old feminine, brown locks, brown eyes, more or less 5’6’’, 120 pounds. Somewhat intoxicated, complaining of upper body, wrist, and thigh pain that is inner. Feasible intimate attack. ” Your message “victim” had been suspended into the area between us, hefty and dense and threatening to suffocate me personally when I stumbled on terms as to what had occurred simply thirty minutes prior, in a room directly above where we sat: I happened to be raped. I became talking with an officer about my already-forming bruises. I happened to be being expected in regards to the clothing I became using while the liquor I became eating and my intimate history. I was being addressed like a target.

It’s been six years it’s a word I’ve heard countless times since since I was labeled a victim for the first time, but as a sexual assault “survivor” and advocate. Continuar lendo →