Know My Name: A Memoir

An independent woman, Miller relies upon dissociation as a coping mechanism almost immediately following her rape at Stanford University. Intent on powering through her emotions to return to her daily life, Miller begins to identify her victim self as “Emily Doe.” She separates herself from the painful memories associated with her assault and describes containing these memories in metaphorical jars that she can hide away mentally. This is a technique Miller learned young, in part because she grew up in a high-pressure environment that emphasized success over self-care. In the wake of multiple, successive suicides within her high school community, Miller explains, “[T]here was a sudden disjunction between what was felt and what was seen; all appeared normal” (39). She attempts to appear normal in her own life but is soon unable to hide the physical, emotional, and mental toll of her rape.

Miller’s instinctive reliance on dissociation likely also reflects the cultural climate surrounding sexual assault (and women’s position broadly). Rape is inherently objectifying and consequently alienates Miller from her own body. The aftermath then exacerbates this alienation in a number of ways: She reads news coverage that refers to her in the third person, she sees photos of herself that depict her as a series of anonymous body parts, and she develops a highly studied persona to maximize her credibility. Rather than helping her to reconnect with her body or process traumatic memories, these experiences encourage Miller to further partition herself.

It is only after confronting her rapist in court during the hearing that Miller begins to allow Emily to converge with her own identity. Despite her fears, the emotions she cannot contain in court do not kill her. A shift occurs when Miller joins a comedy club in Philadelphia and expresses a desire “to show [her]self that the one crying in court was the same one who would be funny onstage” (135). By allowing herself to connect to others around her, Miller begins to connect with the various parts of herself. Miller learns that she no longer needs to lock away her trauma to survive. Rather, she learns that true survival occurs when allowing herself to feel the full range of her emotions.

Throughout her memoir, Miller provides commentary on the dehumanization survivors face at the hands of not only their assailants but also society at large. While the legal system and media regularly allow assailants to share details of their humanity, characters, and personalities, they reduce victims to the facts of their assaults and in many cases to descriptions or images of their brutalized bodies. The disbelief Miller encounters after publishing her victim statement illustrates the extent to which people view survivors merely as what has happened to them rather than as full human beings with unique thoughts, feelings, and talents. Society also judges survivors’ every action as a test of their trustworthiness and value. Preconceived notions of gender and the unjust burden placed on women to accommodate privileged men trap survivors into doubting their own worth as individuals. Miller quickly learns through her own experiences that “[T]his was no longer a fight against [her] rapist, it was a fight to be humanized” (140).

Enraged by the injustice of this double standard, Miller battles against the sympathetic portrayal of her rapist in the media. She realizes that, in the eyes of society, “[Her] pain was never more valuable than his potential” (241). The invasive questioning and public scrutiny she is subjected to never center her feelings as a survivor. She recognizes how the greater systems of the justice system and educational institutions like Stanford disregard the needs of survivors. Stanford, for example, disregards Miller’s humanity even as it makes a show of accommodating her in the battle over the garden plaque; rather than allow Miller to express her true feelings as a survivor, the school attempts to shoehorn her into a particular narrative of victimization—one that is uplifting and forgiving. Ultimately, Miller finds relief only in her connections to other survivors, who inspire her to keep fighting, and in the sharing of her story. After publishing her story, Miller finds the power in her humanity, which allows her to inspire and facilitate the healing of other survivors.