Submission: My abuser arose from a systemic culture of misogyny. We must work to challenge that.

Editor’s note: The following piece contains graphic depictions of physical, sexual and emotional abuse in an intimate partner relationship. The assailant described in the submitter’s accounts is referred to as “X.”

The Bruin does not normally publish anonymous submissions. However, it is the editor’s opinion that the argument presented here and the risks posed to the submitter by identification merit anonymity.

“I really wish you hadn’t done that. You know I have to punish you now,” he said before slapping me in the face three times, grabbing me by my hair and ordering me into the shower.

Obeying his commands, I undressed and fell to my knees. My body was trembling and I began to cry. Clenching my hair in his fist, he pulled my neck back as far as possible, pried my jaw open and urinated in my mouth, forcing me to drink.

“You are scum. You are worthless,” he asserted, slapping me in the face and leaving me to weep on the shower floor. “No one will ever want you.”

This was my punishment for asking him too many questions.

One night, I woke up face down in X’s bed, unable to move and unsure as to how I got there. The room was spinning, and I felt excruciating pain shoot through my body. I discovered that X was anally raping me. I groaned and tried to regain motion in my limbs.

“If you move or make a sound, I will rip you from the inside out,” X whispered in my ear after pinning my neck down.

I laid still in fear of worse punishment, and eventually fell unconscious. I woke up and discovered I was leaking blood, feces and semen. The tears from that night, and others that followed, were so severe that I continue to bleed to this day.

This was my punishment for not providing him with an accurate account of my dating history.

My relationship with X was built on a framework of punishment and reward. He made it clear that if I failed to meet one of his demands, I would be hit, slapped, raped, tortured, humiliated and shamed. To him, these punishments were justified, necessary and well-deserved. I submitted to and complied with this treatment because I genuinely believed it was what I deserved.

X’s ideology and my acceptance of its principles did not, however, emerge from thin air. They are ramifications of a pernicious, long-standing American tradition of behavioral reinforcement: misogyny.

Contrary to popular belief, misogyny is not the hatred of women. As Kate Manne, an assistant professor of philosophy at Cornell University, puts it, misogyny serves to police, punish and correct women’s behavior so that it conforms to a patriarchal ideology. Its hostility and corrective measures target those who deviate from the norms, expectations and social roles outlined by its backward ideology. The same type of punishing function can be extended to other oppressive forces, such as racism, xenophobia, homophobia and transphobia.

The tools used by those who participate in misogyny, as articulated by Manne, include but are not limited to: humiliation, shaming, demonizing, condescension, sexualization and sexual violence. No matter the weapon of choice, all serve to coercively force a woman back into subordination.

Under this view, it is clear X’s actions demonstrate how normalized it is to conform a woman’s behavior to a patriarchal ideology. If I obeyed his orders, then he’d call me “good girl” and take me out to get ice cream. If I didn’t, he’d force himself so far down my throat that I’d nearly suffocate on my own vomit. Even comparatively less extreme experiences are part of a misogynist reinforcement strategy. On college campuses in particular, being a silent bystander, victim blaming and normalizing assault are all examples of a misogynistic reinforcement strategy.

Although X’s actions are shocking, they are consistent with the virtues and ideals held by the institution of misogyny, which is embedded in our society and culture – both on campus and off. Given this, it is easy see how I became so deeply entrenched in and accepting of X’s system of behavioral reinforcement.

Thankfully, there are venues at UCLA to challenge these practices. Campus Assault Resources & Education, for instance, provides a safe place for survivors of sexual violence to get support and undertakes ongoing work to change this toxic misogynistic culture.

CARE advocates and peer educators provide comprehensive and intersectional trainings and workshops for student groups, faculty members and other communities on the UCLA campus. They cover topics such as healthy relationships, supporting survivors, and bystander intervention, and are interactive and trauma-informed. Student groups and faculty members can request these workshops, and any member of the UCLA community can attend. CARE’s work is helping to shift our campus culture to one of respect and dignity.

This work should be supported and attended to by the campus community.

I am not detailing my personal experiences of relationship violence with the hope that it brings justice against X. I write my account so that it may serve as a public testimony of the atrocities women have faced and continue to face under a misogynistic system. It adds to the insurmountable pool of evidence given by those who came before me. I hope we, as Bruins and emerging leaders, can arrive at the definitive conclusion that what we, the targets of misogyny and the subordinate class of the patriarchy, have endured is unjustifiable.

I urge others, when ready, able and willing, to add their stories to this narrative and help shape our future.

Sophia is a third-year student at UCLA.