Let me start by saying that I don't know Elizabeth personally, and I might not have even known  about Elizabeth if I hadn't been watching the local news one morning.

Of course, I was familiar with the case in general.  A serial rapist had been on the loose in Nashville for a number of years, attacking women at gunpoint in their homes at night, many times when their parents or children were also in the home.  He came to be known as the "Wooded Rapist", as most of the homes were adjacent to wooded areas.  (I really don't like it when rapists or murderers are given nicknames.  For one thing, it means that there are too many victims.  It also makes the whole thing seem a little too conversational and lighthearted, and I think it demeans somewhat the very real suffering caused by the perpetrator.  Also, as D.A. Weatherford points out below in the comments section, this feeds the egos of these criminals, giving them the notoriety they so crave.)

Robert Jason Burdick was arrested on May 1, 2008, in connection with at least 13 rapes over the previous 15 years.  He has been tried, convicted and sentenced for several of those crimes, with more trials pending.  At this point, he won't be eligible for parole until he is at least 95 years old.

Elizabeth M* (her name and identity have been made public, but I choose not to give that information here) was 16 when she was raped by Burdick in her home in 1999.  She was in her bedroom watching television, while her parents slept in their own room, when Burdick entered the house, led her outside at gunpoint, put duct tape over mouth, pushed her down and raped her.  Burdick was recently found guilty of aggravated rape and aggravated kidnapping in her case.  He will be sentenced in July.

During her testimony, Elizabeth was asked to recount what happened.  The brief part of that testimony that I saw stunned and saddened me.

(I am fortunate that I have never been the victim of a sexual assault.  I think I understand intellectually the wounds inflicted on a rape victim, but this made me understand more fully in my heart what can be taken away from someone.)

At one point during her attack, Elizabeth asked Burdick why he was doing this.   "Why me?", she asked.  She recounted that he said, "Because you're beautiful."

As if that wasn't horrible enough, it was what she said next that tore me apart.  She barely managed to say, through her tears, "I hate those words."

I hate those words.

This is almost unimaginable to me. 

"Those words" have made me giddy with delight (think of that scene from Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer when Clarice tells Rudolph she thinks he's cute). 

"Those words" have made me feel powerful and desirable. 

"Those words", spoken to me spontaneously and unexpectedly, in moments of passion or tenderness, have made me feel the force and value of my femininity.

Of course, we as women are much more than our outward beauty, but I don't think there's a woman alive who hasn't longed, at some point, to hear "those words" from her lover.  It is an affirmation of our physical selves, signifying that we are unique and irreplaceable to someone.  To think that Elizabeth (and who knows how many others) can't bear to hear that is a tragedy.  To me, it symbolizes everything that is lost when a woman is sexually assaulted.

I have to believe that Burdick knew exactly what he was doing when he said that to Elizabeth. He was making his crime Elizabeth's fault - a man is helpless before a woman's beauty, after all.  It is the same mindset that insists some Muslim women cover themselves from head to toe, or that condemns as a slut a woman who owns and acts on her sexual desire and desirability.  A woman's beauty is a provocation, dangerous and volatile, something to be feared and mistrusted.  Eve and her progeny are the eternal temptresses, turning men into helpless victims.  The centrality of this way of thinking throughout history is undeniable.

I hope it goes without saying that I believe most men are not capable of sexually assaulting a woman.  But, aside from the men I know and trust, I don't know which men are capable of such a thing.  That's why Elizabeth's story not only breaks my heart, but makes me afraid.  I simply don't know if whatever beauty I may possess will ever be turned against me like that.

I hope that, someday, Elizabeth can reclaim her beauty without fear, as is her right.  And I hope too that, someday, she will be able to hear "those words," spoken in love, and revel in them, as is also her right.  

And that's not just a woman's right.  It's a human right.