8A the university daily kansan
news
friday, april 30, 2004
VOCATES: Student endures emotional trials
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But she doesn't talk. She listens.
But she doesn't talk. She listens.
The girl on the table speaks, softly, without lifting her head.
She says that before, she thought she knew herself. She had loved herself. Now, she says, someone has taken all of that away from her.
Gonzalez's stomach turned. Before, rape was just this word, this idea. Now it meant so much more.
"You realize what rape really means," Gonzalez said, "and how it affects people."
rences projects.
That was almost a year ago, Gonzalez's first experience working as a victim's advocate for Rape Victims Survivor Services, a Douglas County organization that helps men and women through the process of recovery from sexual assault.
The Topeka junior is one of many RVSS advocates, supporting victims through what is often the most difficult part of their lives coping with having a part of themselves stripped away.
It has been a busy month at the organization. The federal Violence Against Women office in Washington, D.C., provides RVSS $114,000 every two years. But threats of federal cuts have some organization
officials worried for the future, said Gerlyn Smith, director of survivor services.
April is Sexual Violence Awareness Month. RVSS officials and volunteers have worked all month, writing pamphlets, organizing awareness events and attending meetings, trying to get the message out to people who would otherwise never consider the issue.
But for advocates such as Goncalo, all of that doesn't mean much
often to that doesn't mean much—not when they're home after visiting a victim at the hospital, still haunted by what they have seen and heard.
and heard.
Gonzalez said it was exhausting, reflecting on what it meant to the victim, and to herself.
victim, and to her husband.
She wondered if she would ever hear from the girl in the hospital again. But she couldn't worry too much about that, either.
much about that. All she could do was wait by the pager for the next time she had to rush to the cold, white hospital and help to reconstruct a life.
The organization's advocates are available regardless of when a victim contacts the service, Smith said.
Sometimes a victim, hospital staff or police will contact the organization's 24-hour hotline soon after an
assault. Then the service contacts advocates, using the pager the service provides, and the advocates meet the victim at the hospital, ready to help in any way they can.
But an advocate will call back and let the victim talk no matter how long after being raped.
The listening, Smith said, was part of giving back something that the assault took away.
"Rape and sexual assault is about power and control," Smith said. "We allow them to make decisions for themselves, to dictate the pace of the relationship. It gives them power back."
Gonzalez knows that listening can be harder than she thought.
At her house, the pager beeps and rattles. It's a house call, a victim that waits too long after the rape for a hospital visit, but still wants to talk.
Gonzalez picks up the phone and dials. The voice on the other end says hello, and Gonzalez turns quiet, listening.
quiet, listening.
The woman tells Gonzalez everything, every last uncomfortable detail.
Gonzalez wants to hang up. She wants to get away, to shirk the gore of what the victim describes to her. But she knows she can't.
The first lesson service advocates learn is that no matter how they feel, the relationship is about the victim, not about them.
"I had to stay there, on the phone with her," Gonzalez said, "because it's not about me. It's about the client, and what they need."
Still, sometimes the words can be too much,the stories more violent and real than anything they have ever heard.
"I didn't want to skip a beat. I wanted to stay with her but..." she said, her voice trickling off.
That's the emotional risk advocates take every time they pick up the phone or visit a client at the hospital, Gonzalez said. Some clients just want to talk, to have someone that will listen to what they think and feel.
But, Gonzalez said, some clients want to share what was done to them, because they never told anyone before.
"It's hard to know what to expect. You have to be ready for anything," she said.
But the work can grind her down, she said.
"It's so hard to see a person that's been assaulted. If you with them, you just feel so much of what they're feeling, every time," Gonzalez said
"It seems like it keeps going on and on and no one in the community addresses it," she said. "Especially on campus."
tast spring, her views of violence had changed.
In a class this semester, she and a male friend spoke about sexual violence. The friend had made a joke about rape. A year ago, Gonzalez wouldn't have thought anything of it, she said.
but then she couldn't tolerate it.
She exploded, chastising her friend
for joking about something she has
seen destroy people's lives.
Since Gonzalez started at RVSS
“It's so frustrating. People joke about it, they say 'What if the girl is lying?' They don't understand the real consequences of it.”
Marita Robinson, volunteer advocate at RVSS, said her experiences with clients got harder as time went on.
time when it wasn't," the Lawrence junior said. "You're are still emotional after the people are gone, and they don't contact you again. You still think of them all the time."
And on top of it all, Robinson said, she still couldn't talk about what she did with anyone, even when she felt the same emotional distress her client felt.
Once, Robinson's pager went off for a house call. She called the
organization back. She said she couldn't do it — emotionally or physically.
It happens with everyone, Robinson said. Sometimes you're just not ready. Another advocate will be there to make that call, ready to listen to the person on the other end.
"you have to be ready to face that situation," Robinson said, "because you're all that survivor might have."
might have.
Advocates often have to take time aside, Gonzalez said. It can hurt so much, not being able to stop rape, able only to be there after it happened.
Eventually, the hurt and stress subsides, she said. She pushes the pain and emotion aside. She remembers she is there to help people.
And more than anything, she keeps her clients' pain with her. She remembers how it can change their lives.
"You don't wipe it out," Gonzalez said. "You take every little piece with you, and you learn. You learn how to help a new survivor."
So the next time the pager goes off, she will be ready to pick up the phone, ready to understand and ready to listen.
SENATE: End of session nearing
— Edited by Guillaume Doane
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seat positions. Traditionally, presidential and vice presidential candidates from the losing coalition have gotten other Senate seats.
"It's out of respect for a campaign," Swenson said. "But I feel disrespected and disappointed."
Before the joint Senate meeting, Munch and Dunlap told Swenson and McKenzie that they would support them,Swenson said
Senate elected seven
NEWSENATORS
Other than discussing elections, Andy Knopp, 2003-2004 student body president, and
"But I heard that the other three candidates told their coalition only to vote for their own three people," Swenson said.
undergraduate senators for University Council, with two of them also elected to SenEx:
Jason Boots, sophomore engineering senator from Plano, Texas, KUnited
Nick Sterner, sophomore political science senator and SenEx member from Shawnee, KUnited
Nick Lawler, junior architecture senator from Kansas City, Mo., KUnited
Jana Szatkowski, junior CLAS
senator from Edmond, Okla. KUnited
Arthur Jones, sophomore CLAS senator from Dallas, KUnited
Marynell Jones, sophomore CLAS senator and SenEx member from Dallas, KUnited
Marci Deuth, junior chemical engineering/pre-med senator from Salina, KUNited
Senate elected three graduate senators:
Catherine Bell, 2003-2004 vice president, spoke about the year's top achievements. Online course evaluations, which will be available on Enroll & Pay May 10, a new plan for student seating at Allen Fieldhouse and online vot-
graduate student, Delta Force
Brandon Bauer, Leavenworth
Lisa Rausch, Rogers, Ark..
graduate student, Delta Force
Preeti Krishnan, Musat, Oman
graduate student, Delta Force
And three holdover senators:
■ Jenny Ternes, junior CLAS senator from Wellington, KU
senator from Wellington, KUnited
ing software for Senate elections inAmong Knopps's reached goals.
Alicia Ellingson, junior CLAS senator from Milford, Neb., KUnited
are among Knopp students good Knopp spoke about improving the parking situation by sororities and about his support of the summer fee policy at the Student Fitness Recreation Center.
Unrs Cardinal, Salina junior,
KUnited
Munch was enthusiastic about next year and the future of Student Senate.
Edited by Louise Stauffer
dem senate. "It just feels right to be working with the group," he said.
MENINGITIS: Antibiotic available
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that they received the vaccine or that they sign a waiver stating they understand the risks of meningitis, particularly in on-campus housing.
Only private schools, such as Baker University in Baldwin City, can go beyond the vaccination requirements set by the CDC.
Strother said that the University informed incoming students about the risks of meningitis three times before they came to the University. The University informs students about meningitis in their acceptance letters, health history forms and student housing contracts.
But, while no Regents schools in Kansas require the vaccine, Strother said that meningitis education for students and parents was the right way to approach the disease.
"That way, students and parents can make a decision for themselves instead of being forced to receive a vaccine," she said.
She also said that mandatory vaccinations for universities wasn't a concern for the CDC.
"This is a very serious disease, but it also very rare." Strother said.
According to Strother, Watkins gives out about 3,000 meningitis vaccines each year.
Watkins offers an antibiotic to treat meningitis for about $8 to $9 or a vaccine for $70. The vaccine provides immunity from the disease for about three to five years.
Edited by Nikki Nugent