“Revolution Nothing Less,” his t-shirt read.
I passively, bored-but-possibly-curious, accepted one of his newspapers into my hand, while standing in front of Bovard Auditorium for the much-anticipated USC Annenberg’s Visions and Voices’ conversation on February 13 between author Roxane Gay and activist Amanda Nguyen, moderated by Tara McPherson.
The front page of his paper read, “Voice of the Revolutionary Communist Party” and “Unleash the Fury of Women as a Mighty Force for Revolution.”
Invited to discuss their work fighting rape culture and advocating for sexual assault victims as a part of Annenberg Vice Provost’s “Wicked Problems” series — designed to tackle the “most intractable, multifaceted problems of our time” — Gay and Nguyen were headliners arriving at a certain, if not perfect moment for USC.
Roxane Gay
Gay is a renowned author known for her intense level of vulnerability and unapologetic tone. She wrote a memoir in which she bravely detailed her experience being gang raped as a child and the legacy that the act of violence has had on her life. She then edited an anthology of essays from men and women who have been affected by rape culture, providing space for others to tell their stories in hopes to create a shift in the culture.
Sharing the stage that night was Amanda Nguyen who, after being raped in her college campus, authored the Sexual Assault Survivors Rights Act which passed unanimously through congress when Nguyen was 27 years old. The Act allowed survivors the right to have their rape kits preserved for free for the duration of the statute of limitations. Nguyen then founded Rise, a non-profit organization that aims to protect the rights of sexual assault survivors everywhere.
Sexual abuse is on our minds in the #MeToo era. Gay and Nguyen were perhaps to provide a way of understanding and overcoming?
Inside, Bovard Auditorium filled with an audience from the greater Los Angeles area and out of state.
McPherson, chair of the Cinema & Media Studies division and a professor of Cinematic Arts at USC, took the stage. She peppered the banter with jokes and laughter.
Here is how one of my classmates, Soraya Alizadeh describes the event:
“The event was very, very moving. It was incredible to hear how Amanda [Nguyen] turned her life around after her brutal rape experience to change the law to help others. I can’t believe that at only 27 years old, she has already passed 20 laws to protect rape and sexual abuse survivors… Roxane Gay, the other speaker, was incredibly funny yet very poised and serious. She read two chapters one of one of her most recent books, “Hunger.” In the book, she detailed how her rape contributed to her “fatness,” as she put it. Her coping mechanism as a result of her experience became eating. She… reminded the audience that her traumatic experience has driven her to help those who have not been afforded a voice, or feel too afraid to speak up about their trauma.”
However, the conversation between McPherson and her guests, Gay and Nguyen — discussing the power of being vulnerable, as well as Gay’s activity on Twitter and Nguyen’s use of empathy in her advocacy work — did not provide the poignant, galvanizing conversation I had anticipated.
When McPherson opened the discussion to questions from the audience, it was clear others felt the same.
A man sitting in my row, wearing in the same t-shirt as the guy handing out the communist newspaper that I had received out front, arose from his seat and made his way to the mic.
Amanda Nguyen
Directing his question to Nguyen, he likened her work with the Obama administration to the Buffalo Soldiers, one of the first all black regimens of the US Army that “exterminated native peoples and stole their land,” because it was the only path to liberation they saw. With a shaky, yet persistent voice he asked Nguyen to justify how she could support putting “a woman’s finger on the drone strikes” and “overthrowing governments around the world” in the name of women’s rights.
The crowd roared in a symphony of cheers and boos.
“Let him speak!” yelled a few audience members. The energy in the room grew tense and chaotic.
Ushers glanced nervously at one another, as if trying to figure out if they should do something. No security was in sight, anything could happen next.
In the era of frequent mass shootings, when large crowds become unruly, your mind races to the worst possible scenario.
And my mind was not alone.
(“I don’t like feeling unsafe on stage, but tonight that sure happened,” Gay would later tweet after the event.)
Meanwhile, on stage, Nguyen acknowledged that the American government is the reason why her parents fled Vietnam as refugees and she was born in America. She also acknowledged that she is working on a strict deadline: the 15-year statute of limitations to file a lawsuit against the man who raped her. And she’s not the only one, hundreds of thousands of women all over the country are on the same deadline and while Nguyen would love to rebuild American government, she needs to act in ways that will effect change now.
After Nguyen’s tranquil, diplomatic response, Gay said what many in the room felt: “I also think we need to talk about the misogyny of your question.”
The room exploded in applause. It was like we were watching one of Gay’s famous Twitter “clap backs” take place before our eyes.
The man returned to his seat, but the energy in the room never restored.
McPherson allowed three more questions. One from a young woman, who helped USC students who had been assaulted by former USC gynecologist Dr. George Tyndall receive their settlement money and find recovery resources.
When McPherson ended the Q&A session, another USC student erupted and fought to be heard.
“This question actually has to do with you,” said the student to McPherson. She took the mic off the stand and began to speak, but the mic was quickly turned off.
The student yelled in protest, the crowd fell silent. She explained how disappointed she was that McPherson had not mentioned that six, queer USC alumni had that very day on February 13 filed a lawsuit against USC’s Dr. Dennis Kelly for sexually assaulting them while they were seeking medical attention, a story that was front page news on the Daily Trojan.
Then, a woman in the audience screamed, “but why is sexual assault still happening?”
“The patriarchy!” McPherson retorted from the stage.
The woman continued to yell about dismantling systems of oppression, when a man’s voice declared over the loudspeaker that the evening was over, directing the audience out of the building.
Outside of Bovard, seeking to have their Roxanne Gay books signed, a line formed.
Two women from discussed the event. One expressed how disappointed she was that the conversation was so superficial. Her partner agreed and wanted to know when the conversation about sexual assault will stop being about victims and instead address the abusers that turn people into victims.
“Let’s talk about the men who are doing the raping and put them the spotlight and ask them why they think it’s okay to rape,” she said.
USC has been at the center of the discussion about complicit sexual assault on college campuses and administrations ever since news of Tyndall broke, and it is ongoing with recent revelations about male-on-male indiscretions. Since Tyndall, the university board has taken strides to correct previous wrongdoing, foremost by succeeding in its demand for former-President C.L. Max Nikias to step down. Interim President Wanda Austin is replacing him with an active search for the next permanent president underway, one who, it is hoped, will keep students more safe from sexual assault and abuse, and will listen to their stories.
Inviting speakers like Roxane Gay and Amanda Nguyen, figures who have helped shape the discourse on sexual assault, was a step in the right direction. The announcement of the new allegation against another USC doctor and a university professor failing to acknowledge this allegation in a conversation about sexual assault, however, suggests there’s much more work to be done.
Perhaps the man passing out newspapers that night was right, the real revolution was not happening on stage, but it certainly was alive within the audience.