This is long, but it's new material in my book and I wanted to share it here. If you're inspired by it and want to contribute your own writings to the cause, S. and I would both be appreciative! (I'll reveal more about names and methods to those who want to join.)

During therapy, S. and I came to realize together that for her, confrontation would be the right choice. She dreaded it with intense fear, yet she knew that it would be a crucial step in her recovery. Our conclusion was that she had overcome nearly every major block in her recovery: she had stopped her self-injury, she had stopped her compulsive behaviors, she had stopped all substance use, she had written and shared her story, she had weeded out the stuck points, and she had addressed her family about her rape. Yet she was still aware that one looming dragon still remained threatening to her. She knew that somewhere, out there, her rapist still had the power to frighten her.

As we discussed confrontation, S. said that she was not the slightest bit uncertain that for her, it was the right thing to do. However, she became panicked whenever the subject came up. By merely imagining herself face-to-face with him, her heart would pound and her eyes would flicker nervously. It was the final mountain to climb: after I've conquered this, what is left? She knew she could not leave treatment while a bogeyman still haunted her world in some way.

At first, she refused to name her rapist in group. S. would refer to him as you know who and him, similar to Voldemort from the Harry Potter stories: a villain so terrifying he is referred to only as "he who must not be named." She tried to justify this by saying he doesnt deserve a name, and for a while I let it slide. But in one session, she said I dont want to leave therapy with any trigger still unresolved. I want to know Ive done whatever I possibly can to overcome my PTSD. In a solemn moment, I caught eye contact with her and said softly, S., then what is his name? She grimaced, knowing that it was necessary to begin facing this final trigger.
His name is Davis.

We began using the name Davis as often as possible in therapy, flooding her with instances of hearing it out loud. The purpose of this was to gradually remove the sting from this trigger, and it worked: in time, we were able to converse about Davis very openly. His name lost its power to haunt her. But the big issue loomed: how would we confront him?

For two weeks or more, we pondered this. We knew it had to be done, and I used therapy sessions to help her prepare, but the "how" of the matter eluded us. Would she go to his door? Would she confront him at the college campus where he now attended school? Would she find him at a party and cause a scene? None of these seemed wise, and we both had little difficulty imagining the outcome: a slammed door, being cursed out, or becoming the target of Daviss campaign to smear her with innuendo to friends in retaliation.

Then one day, after giving the matter a lot of deliberate thought, prayer, and therapeutic preparation, the idea came to me. I greeted S. excitedly that morning:

I know how to confront Davis!

Heres what we did. S. and I recognized that a rapists worst fear is that their secret violence will be exposed. Yet my primary concern for S. was her safety, physically and psychologically. I suggested that she write him a letter, but without using her name or any identifying information. In her letter, she would inform him that she is no longer willing to carry his secret inside of her any longer, and that she intends to begin revealing her rape to anyone who will listen. She wishes for him to know that his guilt for assaulting her will no longer be protected by her secrecy and fear. She wants nothing from him, and does not plan to confront him, but she intends for him to know very clearly that what he did was raperegardless of whatever excuses he tells himselfand that she will make certain that it is known.

But the confrontation does not stop there. Then, S. and I would collect letters from others who have gone through therapy with her. They, too, will confront Davis in writing. They will inform him, She is no longer keeping your secret. We know that you perpetrated a violent rape on an amazing friend of ours. We, too, are joining her in revealing this; it will no longer be a secret. None of these letters will identify S. or the author.

I would write a letter to confront Davis, man to man. S.s mother would write a letter as well, confronting him. My friends in law enforcement would write letters to him. Even a cohort of mine in the Attorney Generals office would send him a letter! Letters would come from throughout the country, men and women, all saying the same thing: She is telling her story. Your secret is no longer secret. We will support her, and join her in this. People now know what you have done.

And these letters would be sent by registered mail, one at a time, over weeks. We would ensure that Davis would know that many people are now aware of his crime, and that even his own peer group is now aware and will inform new girlfriends and party dates of his dangerousness.

The genius of this is that S. is aware that she is not the sole victim of Daviss sexual assault. Others had come to her and said, I see what you mean about him. By keeping these letters anonymous, S. would become able to speak for all women hurt by this rapist. She would be able to transfer her years of traumatic stress to him: let him be the one who fears a personal secret being exposed! Let him be the one who looks around a room at every party and wonders, who knows my secret? S. would become the spearhead of this movement, but with a web of allies and supporters behind her.

We consulted with an attorney, and were assured that the method of confrontation we had devised would be legal and ethical. It would not constitute slander or libel. Since each person is writing only one letter, it would not constitute harassment. Since each writer would join the project voluntarily, I would not be liable for organizing or recruiting participants in harassment. Each letter would be sent to me, and I alone would re-mail them, and Daviss address and identity would not be provided publicly so no vigilantes would be able to harm or harass him. After I explained the plan to her, S. leapt to me and hugged me. I love it!

We consulted with peers who do rape work, including members of our state coalition on sexual assault, who responded, I love this idea! The one question that emerged again and again is, will there be any risk to S.? Once we described the ways we had safeguarded her, we received smiles and laughter (and one comment, There should be an organized service that does this for women!). S.s mother was thrilled, and said that her only concern is that she would become too vengeful-sounding in her letter; I pointed out that Daviss defensive beliefs about rape would be so smug that it would take forceful words to pierce them and have any effect.

Even describing our plan here in print, in this book, using the names of S. and Davis (which is not his real first name), S. felt comfortable. I dont really care if he does know it was me. Im not afraid anymore, because the whole point of doing it this way is to show him that he cant get away with things anymore, and I have people who support me.

Among Native American plains and woodlands tribes, there was a tradition of warfare in which a brave person would count coup on an enemy. This involved facing an enemy, confronting them, and then returning to the tribe to share your story of bravery. By doing this, the fear of an enemy would be extinguished and the bravery of the young warrior would be honored with a feather to attach to a coup stick.

What S. and I had created, then, was a way for a rape victim to count coup and reclaim bravery, while handing fear back to the rapist where it belongs.