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On a typical pandemic Thursday night, I found myself scrolling through TikTok. This has turned into the guilty pleasure of my life. Sometimes you need something to do that will make you forget about your own problems and work. On this particular day, I came across a young woman talking about her experience in the military. She appeared on my page, tears in her eyes, explaining her traumatic event with her alleged rapist. She details the military's inaction and goes on to discuss that this is why women in the military kill themselves.
I listened to her words, looking for clues. Buried in the language was her branch, a fake handle in the corner, possibly a first name at the top of the page, the fact that she had been in court that morning. I could hear the pain in her voice. As a mom and ob/gyn, I have learned the many sounds of pain. My kids have an entire symphony of tears, the "I want to see friends" crying, or the "I miss school" tears, the broken bone-piercing cries, and the heartbroken cries. This cry was one I had felt in my heart before. It was painful, feeling abandoned and betrayed by an organization you sacrificed so much for. She was feeling the emptiness that comes from a lack of justice. She had been assaulted, trusted in the system, and was not only betrayed by her colleague but the system itself. I felt that deep in my core, I had been in that moment, and could feel the pain, and immediately worried about her safety.