Hanging onto Hope

One Hour in Paris: A True Story 
of Rape and Recovery
Karyn L. Freeman
University of Chicago Press, 2014

Karyn Freeman’s book made me understand how fortunate I am to have escaped being raped.

Her statistics are startling: One in three women worldwide are raped in their lifetime, or one every 10 seconds. “In Canada half the female population has experienced at least one incident of physical or sexual violence since the age of 16, and each week one to two women are murdered by a current or former partner.” Aboriginal women in Canada, as media headlines remind us, are much more vulnerable than non-Aboriginal women. Even worse is that these statistics are probably conservative, as sexual violence is widely underreported.

The survivors of sexual violence often don’t talk about it; there is pressure not to. Speaking out brings shame and blame. As Freeman points out, if we grow up believing the world is basically safe—which we do in Canada—rape becomes more of a personal problem, the survivor’s fault, the result of bad choices, to be privately dealt with. Consequently, rape is not seen for what it is: a symptom of societal gender inequality and discrimination.

Freeman’s rape experience, recounted in the book, is unforgettable. Thinking back to myself at her age, I realize it is by chance that I was spared. There was the first date when the guy took me back to an apartment full of his male friends; there was my own trip through Europe, frequently hitchhiking. Freeman was probably more careful in her travels to Paris than I ever was in Europe. Perhaps the ‘70s were safer than the ‘90s, but no woman should have to live wary and in fear of rape. Yet we do and with good reason.

One Hour in Paris is a well-told story by a bright and articulate Canadian woman. Her rape story appears at the outset; the rest of the book is about her recovery, about what worked and what didn’t as she tried to get on with her life, and about surviving trauma. In describing her symptoms of posttraumatic stress disorder, Freeman provides a history of the recognition of this disorder by the psychiatric profession, and describes the challenges of dealing with PTSD.

Freeman’s journey to healing took her not only back to the scene of the crime in Paris, but also to Africa—”to see ground zero in the war against women.” She informs the reader about the vulnerability of African women, particularly in the Democratic Republic of the Congo where rape is a weapon of war. Having learned how sexual violence and gender inequalities have contributed to the HIV/AIDS pandemic, she wanted to meet survivors of extreme sexual violence and discrimination—women who were strong and brave enough to advocate for change.

Stories of rape are not unusual, but Freeman’s thoughtful, well-researched retelling is unique. It is a book that is hard to put down. It informs and it inspires. And it has a happy ending—at least as happy as one could hope for a woman who has survived rape.

Christians are called to speak and act—to no longer remain silent or accept sexual violence. We can speak out, help change entrenched attitudes, and provide practical care for survivors. Through Presbyterian ministries of mission, development, justice and advocacy, we are changing women’s lives.

Women like Jan. (All names have been changed.) Raped at 16, Jan had turned to prostitution and drugs and eventually tried to take her own life. Her parents were residential school survivors who lost their language, culture and self-esteem as children. Without their own parents as role models, they did their best raising children in a community still impacted by colonization and racism. But one day Jan walked into the downtown native ministries centre, and her life changed. She now has custody of her children, is mentoring Aboriginal teens at the centre, and becoming a leader in her church. The Presbyterian Church partners with several inner-city programs dedicated to Aboriginal ministries in Edmonton, Saskatoon, Winnipeg and Kenora, Ont.

Women like Abby. Emotionally abused as a child, Abby dropped out of school at 13. She turned to prostitution and substance abuse, was raped by bad dates, beaten by her pimp, and was shuttled around the country depending on major events (such as the Olympics or PanAm Games). On the streets she met an ARISE Ministry worker who treated her with respect. Many months and meetings later, Abby is now in college. What made the difference? “Knowing that I could come here,” she said to the ARISE worker, “and tell you anything and know that no matter what, you believed in me.” ARISE Ministry is supported through Canadian Ministries and the Presbytery of East Toronto.

And let’s not forget that men play an important role in creating change when it comes to gender-based violence. PWS&D supports a project that provides gender and HIV/AIDS training, resources and support to partners in Kenya, Tanzania, Malawi and South Africa. Stigma still exists for people with HIV and AIDS, but through the program, more and more HIV-positive men are “going public” and becoming leaders of the local AIDS outreach groups. Participation in workshops on gender issues gives men new insight on how their behaviour and notions of masculinity contribute to the spread of HIV among women and to the violation of women’s rights.

“We face a formidable challenge,” writes Freeman, “and the social, economic, political, and educational changes that are needed to bring about social justice therefore requires political will of the strongest order, exercised not only by governments but also by citizens, including those who stand to lose privileges as a result.”