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This marks the end of my second year writing for The Silhouette. Last year was the first time I ever got my feet wet in the world of sports writing. It was something I wanted to get into since high school and McMaster gave me a great outlet. This year I was the Sports Reporter for the school paper and got a better feel of what sports journalism as a job felt like in a university setting.
This opportunity has allowed me to have conversations with people I never thought I would talk to and develop a love for my school I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. It has opened doors that would’ve remained closed. I don’t know what my McMaster experience would be like if I didn’t walk into The Silhouette’s office in September 2014.
A little initiative on my part went a long way.
One of the first things I learned at The Silhouette was that my job wasn’t to write recaps or “gamers.” That’s boring and it would be a waste of my time and your time. As a student writer on a university campus that has teams that participate at the provincial and national levels in the OUA and CIS, I have a landscape full of potential content awaiting me. Access to student-athletes, coaches and games were at my fingertips. I have unique inside access to these things because I am a student here. Outside journalists don’t have this access.
I had classes with student-athletes and made friends with them even before getting this writing job. I learned right away from my former Sports Editor Scott Hastie that I should not hesitate to take advantage of the opportunities I have right in front of me. I started to meet with coaches and student-athletes regularly and quickly learned that, while they do hold respected positions in the sports world, they are human beings with stories.
They are not that much different from you and I.
This opportunity has allowed me to have conversations with people I never thought I would talk to and develop a love for my school I probably wouldn’t have otherwise. It has opened doors that would’ve remained closed.
The more I talked to these people and wrote about them I started to see it as more than a job. I genuinely enjoyed getting to hear their thoughts and understand their perspectives. As time went on my interviews felt more and more like conversations, which by the way, is how it’s supposed to be. I remember being nervous before some of my first interviews back in 2014, but now I just embrace each one as another chance to understand a person and their profession. Scott Radley, from The Hamilton Spectator, told me that a good sports writing piece will have the ability to make someone who wasn’t at the game or someone who knows nothing about sports want to read what I wrote.
Regardless of age or background, humans like to read about other humans. Telling human stories is when the best writing comes out. It doesn’t even have to be sports. Sports Reporter is my job title, but what I’m doing is telling the stories of human beings through the language of sports — a language I just so happen to speak.
This year I came to this realization: it’s about relationships and people.
It always has been and it always will be no matter what my job title is.
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WARNING: This article contains graphic descriptions of rape and mention of suicide.
I was a Welcome Week representative in 2012, and I met John Doe*, a fellow rep, through some friends. We didn’t work directly together, but he hung out with us often. I thought he was funny, we had the same taste in music, but I never thought of him as anything more. My friends were close to him, and I liked my friends, so it all seemed great. It was after our fourth encounter with each other that he raped me.
It was the day of the Yates Cup. I had gone to a friend’s before the match for some drinks. I was happily drunk but felt the cold November wind hitting my cheeks as the game crept closer to half time. My friends texted me that they were at TwelvEighty and there was an extra seat for me.
As I entered TwelvEighty, I saw John and my friends. I had run out of money and waved my debit card around, asking for a drink. The bartender said that if I had no cash, I had to buy a pitcher in order to use my card. I did so and ended up drinking most of it.
John got up and stretched, and announced that he was going to go for a walk. I was beginning to feel nauseous and figured that joining him would be a good way to sober up. We walked until we found a stairwell. He sat on the stairwell while I fell on them. I remember his face getting closer to mine slowly. He kissed me and I could hear footsteps approaching. People passed by, the match was still going on. I felt exposed and uncomfortable.
I suggested to him that we should go into a private room. I wanted to talk and I wanted for us to be alone. I wasn’t thinking about kissing him more. To be honest, I genuinely wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, I was just drunk. I know I didn’t encourage him, but I clearly didn’t express myself as properly as I wished.
We went into a room in the arts quad basement. He turned off the light and I sat on the ground as standing had become too tricky.
He pulled his pants down and tried to shove himself into my mouth. I was frozen. Somewhere in the back of my mind the phrase “freeze, fight or flight” popped up, and I cursed myself for having the worst reaction.
“Get on that bench.” he said. At that point in time I was so dumbfounded that any short instruction seemed sensible. He pulled off my jeans. I realized what his intentions were, and mustered up the strength to cover myself with both of my hands and said loudly, “No. Stop. I don’t want to. No. Stop.”
I remember him pulling my hands away. He pressed his lips against mine, hard. I remember hearing him grunt, and the occasional loud cheer from TwelvEighty came through the walls. My insides were screaming for my body to get up, to punch, to do anything, but I was incapable of moving. I was scared of his strength. Not physical, as he was short and smaller than me, but his mental strength – the fact that he ignored my pleas frightened me.
Something began to buzz in the room: my friends whom I left outside at the game were attempting to find me. They kept calling. Eventually, he stopped. I had sobered up enough by then to hop off the piano bench, pull up my pants, pick up my phone. We left the room and he headed back to TwelvEighty while I made a beeline for MUSC. As I left he called out, “See you around, eh?”
Somewhere in the back of my mind the phrase “freeze, fight or flight” popped up, and I cursed myself for having the worst reaction.
I went to the Student Centre and ran into my friends. The shock settled in minutes after and I told my friends what had happened. They took me to Shoppers to buy a Plan B.
The next few days blurred together. I showered for 45 minutes washing every inch of my skin, hoping that the harder I scrubbed, the less dirty I’d feel. I couldn’t sleep. School didn’t matter. I lived off-campus and I would leave the house earlier because I didn’t want to face my parents.
I told my friends later on that day. It was confusing to them because they knew him for years. They said they believed me, but within that week they also told me that he made a mistake and they would remain friends with him.
John Doe called me the very next day and told me he knew I told our mutual friends, and that I was wrong. He declared he did have consent because I took him to the private room. A few days after this, I was with a friend, who was also a good friend of John Doe, but was supporting me during this time. John Doe called me, and I put it on speaker so she could hear what he was saying. He warned me again not to tell anyone, and claimed I was being ridiculous. “Am I always supposed to ask a girl if she wants to have sex with me?” he said in a sarcastic tone. I was stunned. His friend looked at me with an unfathomable expression. I hung up.
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My close friends were trying to convince me to report him, but even I was confused as to whether this was rape or not.
I even went to my old high school and confronted two of my closest teachers about what had happened. It hurt me to tell my friends and teachers. I’d see their faces register shock, worry, sadness, frustration, but I didn’t know what else to do. It felt as though I had such a big weight on my shoulders, and it had become too much for me to carry it by myself. I had to tell people who knew who I really was, who knew me before this happened, so I could cling onto my sense of self.
However, I also told people I regret telling. I shared what had happened with friends I wasn’t really close with. At the time, I thought that telling people would help bring some sense into this situation. However, the thoughts some shared with me confused me even more:
“Well, you did tell him to go into that room with you…”
“You were really drunk…”
“You are a super friendly person, so he just mistook that as flirting…”
“I’m not sure if this is considered rape because you probably enjoyed yourself once you started having sex, right?”
Another friend approached me at university one day and handed me a brochure explaining rape and that was when it finally clicked for me. I was raped. Some of my other close friends encouraged me to attend counselling, but it wasn’t until I saw the brochure that I did.
When telling the police, I had to replay every single thing in my mind. It felt like picking at the scabs of a wound that was trying to heal. We had to figure out how long John Doe and I were in the private room, and calculated that I was raped for 45 minutes.
Two weeks after the incident, I went to see a counsellor in the Student Wellness Centre. My counsellor was nice enough but I felt rushed having to explain what had happened within my 30-minute time slot. It took me 10 minutes to stop crying. She referred me to the hospital and I headed there after my appointment.
Because I didn’t go there straightaway and had showered after being raped, they could not get his semen off my body. Instead, I underwent a physical exam and a mini counselling session. They took my urine sample and I had to take a pregnancy test. Afterwards, they gave me a handful of crushed up pills and water, telling me that these would wipe out any sort of STDs I could have contracted from him.
Within a month after it happened, I attempted suicide. To summarize it all into one sentence: I felt like a failure, like a used up rag that needed to be disposed. I am grateful that it was a botched attempt, and that I had friends around me who let me talk to them openly about it and made me realize it was not the way out.
One month after being raped, I contacted the city’s Sexual Assault unit and talked to a police officer on the phone. We arranged for them to meet me at a friend’s house, where they would interview me and fill out a report. At the time, that was the hardest thing I had to go through. When I told my friends or teachers what had happened, I was able to skip some parts. I was able to provide a summary. When telling the police, I had to replay every single thing in my mind. It felt like picking at the scabs of a wound that was trying to heal. We had to figure out how long John Doe and I were in the private room, and calculated that I was raped for 45 minutes.
I ended up going to the police station about a week afterwards and had an interview with the police. He said he met with John Doe and spoke with him. He asked if I wanted to take this to court, and added that it would take one year. I turned it down. I didn’t want this to drag on. Because I said no, it only says on John Doe’s profile that he was questioned for rape, but that’s it. The police officer patted me on the shoulder as I was leaving and said, “Take care of yourself. Next time, try not to get yourself into this sort of situation, like the drinking...”
The following summer, I found out that John Doe was going to be a Welcome Week rep again. I contacted friends involved with Welcome Week and was referred to the Office of Student Conduct. I went to their office and told them everything. They informed me that had I approached them right after it had happened, they could have done more. John Doe could have faced more serious consequences. I had no idea that I could have approached the Student Conduct Office. I wish I had known, and hope that more information is given to first years about it now.
The office asked me if I could provide a witness. I immediately thought of his close friend that overheard our phone call after it happened. I messaged her and explained the situation. She sent back a lengthy response, acknowledging that she heard what John Doe said, but that she wouldn’t be able to be a witness for me. She added that I seemed to be holding a grudge and keeping in some pent-up anger. She then closed the message saying that her and other friends were also upset about what happened, but they found ways to move on. Her closing sentence was wishing me all the best. I was disgusted, and still am as I type this.
I showed the office the message, and since she acknowledged what John Doe had said, that was all he needed. He told me that he would meet with John Doe and that he would be monitored at all times during Welcome Week. He also said that John Doe wasn’t allowed to approach me on campus, and that I could call security if he did. While that was comforting, that wasn’t the point of my actions. I didn’t want him to harm anyone ever again, especially first year students.
The conduct officer advised me to go to the Human Rights and Equity office, which I did. I met with someone who was extremely nice and warm. It was comforting to open up to such a wonderful person. She informed me of an upcoming event SACHA, the Sexual Assault Center for the Hamilton Area, was hosting at Mac, which was aimed towards friends of sexual assault victims. I attended the session with one of my great friends.
After being raped by someone who I thought was my friend, the most difficult part was letting go of my friends who still supported him. It genuinely crushed me to have my friends tell me they still considered John Doe a friend. One friend messaged me an apology this spring, saying that she finally sees how horrible John Doe is, and that she will always regret not supporting me. Her message was what I had wanted for so long, but when she finally sent it to me, it had lost its value. I had to go through the rest of my undergrad avoiding my Welcome Week friends and certain parts of MUSC where they hung out.
I would think about it at least once every single day for the first year. I would find myself taking the car and driving to a random parking lot to break down and cry without any interruptions. I’d cringe every time I heard a rape joke, pretend I wasn’t affected while inwardly accepting the fact that the joke would stay in my mind for the rest of the day. I began to join numerous clubs and kept busy. I picked up more shifts at work to avoid being home.
Some days, I would have such a good time with friends that it wouldn’t be until I went to bed that I finally realized I hadn’t thought about it all day. I learned to congratulate myself with every little step towards improvement. I dread November a little less now. I didn’t have sex again until a year and a half later. When I did, and I realized it is still pleasurable, I was elated. John Doe may have become the focus of my life and taken things away from me, but this was not one of them.
Sometimes there are setbacks, though. I recently went home with someone and was triggered by the sexual position he wanted us to be in. I ended up crying in his arms. I was lucky because he was kind and understanding. I am now seeking counselling.
Less than two weeks ago, a good friend of mine approached me and told me she had been raped. She brought a guy home who asked her if she wanted to have sex. When she said no, he proceeded regardless. As she was telling me what had happened, I was trying to control my emotions, to be her rock. But how could this have happened? How could someone assault such a kind-hearted human being? What had she done to deserve this? I felt heartbroken all over again.
While I will never be able to fully understand what she’s going through, it’s safe to say that I have a general idea. The pain from being in the position of a victim’s friend was different, but still prominent.
These situations made me realize how often people question what rape really is. I now know that, put simply, it is any form of sexual activity with another person without their consent is sexual assault.
The statistics are disgusting: one in four women in North America will be raped. While the media normally reports rapists as being strangers in parking lots (which does happen often, unfortunately), that is not true for the majority of rapists. 80 percent of the time, your rapist is someone you know. It’s a close friend, or acquaintance, or family member.
I hope people can learn from the experience I’ve had dealing with this crime on campus. There are resources on campus to approach and consult if you have had a similar experience, but it still isn’t enough. If you have been in a similar situation, please contact the Human Rights and Equity Services department at the university.
*Name has been changed.
The author of this article has asked to remain anonymous. If you have any questions, email thesil@thesil.ca.
RESOURCES ON AND OFF CAMPUS
If you or someone you know is in need of a support service, below is a listing of local centres that are able to provide a variety of services and couselling.
On campus
Human Rights and Equity Services
Provides confidential complaint resolution according to the University’s Sexual Harassment Policies.
(905) 525-9140 x. 27581
hres@mcmaster.ca
Meaghan Ross, Sexual Violence Response Coordinator
(905) 525-9140 x. 20909
rossm4@mcmaster.ca
Student Wellness Centre
Provides a wide range of counselling options and medical services and testing.
(905) 525-9140 x. 27700
wellness@mcmaster.ca
WGEN
Provides confidential support for all victims of sexual assault.
(905) 525-9140 x. 20265
wgen@msu.mcmaster.ca
SHEC
Provides confidential peer support, referrals on and off campus, anonymous and confidential pregnancy testing.
(905) 525-9140 x. 22041
shec@msu.mcmaster.ca
Off campus
SACHA
Provides a 24-hour support line, counselling services and public education.
(905) 525-4573
(905) 525-4162 (24-hour Support Line)
Hamilton General Hospital, Sexual Assault and Domestic Violence Care Centre
Provides a 24-hour support line, counselling services and public education.
(905) 521-2100 x. 73557
sadvcarecentre@hhsc.ca
Hamilton Police Services
Takes crime reports from city constituents.
(905) 546-4925
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Stress manifests itself in many ways. During my transition to first year, I worried so much about my grades that my acne breakouts became worse than ever before. I lost ten pounds from eating irregularly and never had a proper sleep schedule. But none of these things particularly worried me: I had concealer for my pimples, breaks in between classes for naps, and losing weight, despite the probable long-term health consequences, was more preferable than the dreaded “freshman fifteen.” What plagued me the most was that I seemed to be losing a great deal of hair.
My hair would come out in clumps in the shower, to the point where I’d be glad for my near-sightedness. It littered the sink whenever I used my blow dryer. It created massive hairballs that collected on my carpet, and every time I cleaned out my comb. I began dreading visits to my hairdresser, mainly because he would always comment on how much less hair I had in comparison to the last time I had gone to see him.
I consulted my doctor, only to find she was equally baffled; my blood tests suggested everything was perfectly ordinary. She initially suggested iron supplements, but told me to stop after my iron levels became adequate despite no visible effects on my hair. I spent two and a half hours waiting in a walk-in clinic to get a different opinion, only to have my concerns dismissed. I switched shampoos, included more protein in my diet, and even stopped using straighteners and hair curlers altogether. But no matter how hard I tried, losing hair was the one thing I just couldn’t compensate for. I became acutely afraid of the inevitability of premature balding, for which there appeared to be no cure.
Most websites suggest hereditary reasons as the main cause of baldness. In addition to inheritance, they mention illness and of course, stress, which also tends to be the main explanation I get from friends after haranguing them with my complaints. But then I stumbled across a Marie Claire article on dealing with female hair loss, which mentioned roughly 24 percent of women equate losing hair to losing a limb. I began to wonder: what exactly constituted the exaggerated fear of losing all my hair? It wasn’t so much vanity as the abnormality with which we viewed female baldness.
I’ve lost count of the number of times I told myself how much easier it would be to deal with hair loss if I were a man. This is not to say that it isn’t also a concern for men, but to point out that male-patterned baldness is generally more accepted, particularly as we age. Dwayne Johnson is bald. Patrick Stewart is bald. Homer Simpson is bald. Even Aang from Avatar: The Last Airbender is willingly bald. The problem is that my mind stalls when I try to think of female icons without ample amounts of hair as a part of their regular appearance. If 40 percent of people who deal with hair loss are women, then why do we have this perception that women losing hair is both uncommon and unseemly?
Yes, losing hair is an issue. It may even be an important indicator in terms of signalling that something is wrong with our physical health, or that something is wrong with our lifestyle, and it should definitely be addressed to the best of our abilities. What needs to change, however, is the level of apprehension with which we view it. In the words of Cersei Lannister as she commences her walk of shame; hair grows back. And if it doesn’t?
I will not cringe for them.
By: Mary-Kate MacDonald and Graham Colby
The demanding environment of universities makes students more susceptible to mental health and wellness issues. A recent study by the Centre for Addiction and Mental Health found that approximately 30 percent of post-secondary students report as having four or more symptoms of augmented stress.
Counselling services are a common and effective method of dealing with mental health issues. Students at McMaster can access personal, group and psychiatric counselling through the Student Wellness Centre. More information about the available services can be found at http://wellness.mcmaster.ca/.
While the services are available, the efficacy of these services is rarely questioned publicly due to the stigma of mental health. Here are four accounts from students describing their experiences with the counselling services available at McMaster. Their names have been changed to protect confidentiality.
Emily had overwhelming feelings of depression and anxiety that had bottled up over a couple months. However, she kept putting off going to personal counselling. After finding some spare time, she finally went to the walk-in counselling hours.
“The waiting room was terrifying,” Emily said. She did not know what to expect and was scared she would not be able to articulate her emotions.
With the counsellor, Emily filled out a questionnaire aimed to determine her rationale for using the services. For Emily, the questionnaire was a helpful tool to bring about personal awareness of her emotions, including suicidal thoughts.
Emily described the counsellor as empathetic and understanding.
“The counsellor was a great outlet because she wasn’t there to judge,” said Emily.
Despite this helpful session, Emily realized that due to issues of understaffing, personal counselling services could not adequately address her issue. Wanting more support, she took the counsellor’s advice and attended group counselling.
Emily was hesitant about group therapy, but she had already developed a rapport with this counsellor, who was running the group entitled “Exploring Anxiety,” so she consistently attended weekly meetings.
She found the environment to be calming and respectful because students were able to choose how much they wanted to share, and could just listen if that is what they wanted.
“I wanted a safe space, and it was,” Emily said of her experience.
Emily is still attending the group and highly recommends it to other students with anxiety issues.
Leo had encountered issues of anxiety in high school. Most often they were related to having a moral dilemma being around others under the influence of alcohol or drugs. At university, this affected his relationships with others and he decided to make an appointment for personal counselling.
“The phone call was the most intimidating part,” Leo said, adding that he would have preferred an option to email the SWC to make an appointment instead.
Leo said that the stigma of using these services went away after the initial meeting. He realized that it was not a sign of weakness, but strength in trying to create a personal change.
Leo felt that the receptionist judged his situation urgent and he obtained an appointment with a counsellor at SWC within a couple days.
Leo felt that the counsellor seemed to genuinely care about his issues. She urged him to book another appointment because she felt there was greater depth to his concerns. Because of the waitlist, his next appointment was in six weeks.
Leo described feeling better during the session, but that the effects were not apparent in his daily life. He asked about how to obtain a diagnosis and was referred to a physician.
Leo made a general 30-minute appointment with a doctor at the SWC and discussed his issues. The doctor established that Leo was experiencing generalized anxiety and depression and referred him to the campus psychiatrist.
The psychiatrist confirmed the initial doctor’s thoughts and also identified a rare personality disorder. As summer approached, the psychiatrist recommended medication.
Leo felt comfortable with the psychiatrist and felt liberated to have a diagnosis.
“It wasn’t just my fault, something was actually wrong. It wasn’t just that I wasn’t trying hard enough,” Leo said.
Leo said the most beneficial part of the services were that he was able to explore his issues of mental health without getting his parents involved.
Leo would recommend other students who are having mental health issues to explore the services offered through SWC.
He described his case as a success, but stressed that the maintenance of good mental health was difficult to achieve with the severely low number of counsellors and long wait times between appointments for personal counselling.
During the school year, Sam was suffering from debilitating anorexia. She was hospitalized, and her weight class was too low for her to be accepted into outpatient programs at St. Joseph Hospital. Her options were either to remain in hospital or seek help through the SWC, and she opted for the latter.
“The frontline staff were really nice but it was an inconsistent service depending on who you had,” Sam said when asked about her experience with SWC.
Sam felt her confidentiality was not respected, as she was not aware that her personal information was being shared with other counsellors during weekly meetings.
Her situation remained serious enough that a doctor at SWC was trying to coerce her into the hospital. Sam called the Ontario patient rights organization to better understand her options. She compared this experience to being treated like a child with mental health issues rather than an adult capable of making her own decisions.
“I was working against the Student Wellness Centre rather than with them.”
Sam would recommend the SWC as she adamantly supports seeking help through all available means. However, in her opinion, alternative resources can be more beneficial.
The SWC provided an opportunity for Sam to get help. The staff treating her would add appointments to their day to see her. These services and care were made available particularly because of her extreme circumstances.
“You shouldn’t have to be in such a crisis like I was to obtain sufficient services. You shouldn’t need to be in crisis mode to warrant that level of care,” she said.
Ryan has feelings of anxiety and depression. In his first year, Ryan went to the campus doctor who recommended he consult his family doctor and take aspirin. Four years later, Ryan went to the SWC when these emotions persisted and he was considering suicide.
After seeing a counsellor, he was referred to the staff doctor.
A routine developed where Ryan would see the doctor bi-weekly, but as time progressed the reception staff informed him he could only make 20-minute same-day appointments. This means that Ryan often goes significant periods of time without seeing a doctor due to scheduling conflicts.
Ryan described the system as incredibly frustrating because there was constant uncertainty while he waited for potential appointments.
“It’s a battle. I can’t understand why I can’t book in advance,” he said. This lack of understanding leaves Ryan feeling as though the staff are discouraging students from seeking help.
Ryan also identifies with the stigma surrounding mental health.
“I don’t mind people knowing I’m sick but I’d rather they don’t look at me as suicidal.”
Despite the struggles and conflicts in trying to receive care, Ryan values discussing his issues medical professional. Talking to someone on campus is convenient for him but he would like more accessible services.
Ryan would recommend the services at the SWC and considers himself lucky that the doctor he sees seems to be this caring, because he believes they easily could have disregarded his issues as a medical concern.
The students interviewed here encountered varying degrees of success through their experience with the SWC. Despite the SWC’s best efforts, it appears their services are strained, because they have to turn people away for weeks or condense serious issues into a 20-minute conversation.
It is not always possible for students to use private services, but the issues of accessibility to SWC services make it difficult to mend issues of mental health at McMaster.
We don’t want to undermine the current efforts on campus, but students need and deserve more.
It is a dangerous game throwing a band-aid on an infected wound and hoping it gets better. Mental health is no different. The damage worsens if left untreated.
