It's Been Ten Years Since Steubenville

Author and filmmaker Nancy Schwartzman on how far we have and haven't come since the rape case that changed everything.

Content Warning: Sexual assault. Please consider your mental health before reading.

Ten years ago this month, a young woman was sexually assaulted by a group of high school athletes in Steubenville, Ohio. The girl, who was unconscious, had been transported, stripped of her clothes, and digitally assaulted (meaning the assailants used their hands). Later there would be undeniable evidence: texts and posts on social media in which perpetrators documented, and even bragged, about the horrific acts that took place that night. Two of those students, Trent Mays and Ma’lik Richmond, both 16 at the time, were convicted of rape. 

Steubenville was a turning point in how we talk about sexual assault and rape culture. It was the first sexual assault case to go viral on social media, sparking major online activism in response. Nancy Schwartzman, a filmmaker and a writer, has followed this case since the beginning, first making a documentary about the town, and most recently publishing Roll Red Roll, a book about the incident. The New York Times called it a “meticulous account” of what happened that night and the culture that allowed for it.

This week, I talked to Nancy about the film, the book, and what she learned from all of it. 

Samhita Mukhopadhyay: Why were you initially drawn to investigating the Steubenville rape case? 

Nancy Schwartzman: I had already been examining issues of consent in my first film, The Line—what is coercive consent, what is enthusiastic consent, etc. And by the end of having so many conversations with young people about the topic, what became very important, I thought, for us to all be looking at was perpetrator behavior. 

[Sexual assault was talked about] very much like the Johnny Depp and Amber Heard trial. The victim is scrutinized: her behavior, her alcohol levels, her outfit, her prior sexual conduct. For me, what was just never discussed, and actually where the problem was: “What are the conditions that enable sexual assault to run rampant, and what are the behaviors we should be looking out for?” 

When Steubenville broke, [at first] I thought, “Nothing about this is new.” But when I started looking into it more closely, all of the text messages and social media were public. And it was a script of how these guys were talking about the victim, how they were planning it in advance, and how they were egging each other on. So all of a sudden, we had a window into perpetrator behavior.

It’s hard to remember now, but Steubenville was one of the first big sexual assault cases where social media and the internet played a huge role. That’s why it garnered so much national attention, right?

Yeah, the Times also didn't break the story; Rachel Dissell in Cleveland started reporting on it. And what was happening was more about how this was dividing the town, and then [the hacker group Anonymous got involved] to get more global media attention. That's what caught the New York Times’ eye. I remember when I first went to Steubenville and sent some pictures to people like, "I'm here, I'm here,” someone was like, “Whoa, Steubenville, that town from the internet.” It was the first time the internet world and what we call brick-and-mortar collided.

Going to talk to older people [in the town], it was this fascinating generational divide. A 70-year-old man who runs the appliance shop and volunteers at Fort Steuben, the historical fort, he was just like, “These people, they came in with masks, these people from the internet.” So the internet “invaded” this town, they [came] in with a threatening message and their faces covered in a mask, and then people actually showed up on the courthouse stairs. It was also interesting that the people who showed up were from the town, so they got to benefit from the anonymity of Anonymous—from the fact that the outside world was saying “Yo, what's going on in your town is fucked up." People could agree quietly after years of being silenced, or going along with it, or not even knowing there's an alternative way possible. 

Historic Fort Steuben in Ohio. (Photo by: John Greim/Loop Images/Universal Images Group via Getty Images)

Yeah, that is super interesting. One of the things that you’ve explored in the book is the culture that creates sexual assault. Many of these people in the town were upset about the attention the case was getting and felt that the whole thing was overblown. So can you talk about some of those circumstances a little bit, some of those contexts that you were referring to?

Most people I spoke with, including [a lovely man who owned a big family-owned store], would acknowledge, “Well, what happened was bad.” Everybody categorically agreed that it was bad. So aside from the negative attention, they were horrified. I think one of the things folks didn’t understand... I mean, [the store owner] cornered me in his shop and put his fingers in my face and was like, “Digital, it was digital penetration, it was digital.”

Oh my God.

I know. So I think there was a wild misunderstanding of assault in all its forms. And the [digital penetration] was one detail of the case that was eminently provable in court, but there was a lot of stuff that pointed to other sexual misconduct. So there was a physical minimizing of the actual harm, which was obviously a problem. There was also this question of: “If someone is blacked out, how bad can it be?” So there was a wild misunderstanding there.

The people that I really was the most frightened of, in a way, were the mothers of sons. In all of my screenings, I was like, “Oh, shit, there's a bunch of dads in the back, and there's a bunch of men." I called the men in to be my allies. They're in locker rooms, they know, they grew up in this environment and were like, “Yep, I know this behavior, this is familiar to me, this is not good. I have a daughter or a son, and I don't want him in trouble.” [But] it was the mothers of sons that were fiercely protective. “Not my baby,” and “She must have done something.” I just did not expect this level of obstacle with that demographic.

Why do you think that is?

I don't know. I’m not a parent, and I don’t have a son. I think a mother's love for her son... Well, I think in the big picture, this is a place that is really, really, really steeped in patriarchal tradition. The book covers the history of the mills: The men are working, and the women are at home. There aren’t any places for women to go. There's a really strong separate-sphere ideology. Men are at the mill; women are at home. Mill's closed, men are on the football field, boys are on the field, girls are cheerleaders. There were no women on the city council; it's a very, very Catholic town. There are no women in leadership in the clergy. I mean, it was alarming, across the board.

When we’re thinking about moms protecting their sons, mommies generally love their little boys, and their little boys are perfect. If they do something wrong, it’s someone else's fault. I saw that growing up in my town. The way that gender roles play out, it's wildly unsafe to be a young woman or a queer person in that town.

I think a lot of people in the “#MeToo era” are talking about the limits of the criminal justice system in sexual assault. Steubenville is a rare case where perpetrators were convicted. There was some sense of justice through the criminal justice system, and that's because there was so much documented evidence that you could not ignore it. But what was your learning and takeaway from that? And what happened to the boys after they were convicted? 

My book has a whole section about transformational justice and different models for justice. For most of us, we get no justice. I talked to Aya Gruber, who’s an amazing feminist criminologist. So often, the burden of “What should be done?” is on the victim. Like, “Well, it's your obligation to report because he could do it to someone else.” You know what? It's not my obligation to do anything because the criminal justice system is so dangerous for women, it's dangerous for people of color, and it's unreliable. It's not a space for justice. The burden should not be on our shoulders to do something.

But the boys were sentenced: Trent was sentenced to two years in juvenile detention, Ma'Lik was sentenced to nine months, and Ma'Lik got out and finished high school. There was a big ripple of anger because he was brought back onto the football team, and that divided the town. People were like, "Hey, football is a privilege; it's not a right. He should be let back into school, but this was the environment that led him to get caught up in something like gang rape. What about the football team has changed to ensure this doesn't happen?" The coach had said, “He did his time. I believe in second chances.” But they didn't bring anything onto the team to ensure that thinking and behavior changed. That was a missed opportunity, big time. 

I think what I really wanted folks to understand is that it's not... Every survivor doesn’t have to become a fucking activist. And you're doing nothing wrong if you're a survivor and you decide not to report to the police, because reporting to the police is a dangerous act that might not be in your best interest.


Samhita Mukhopadhyay is a writer, editor, and speaker. She is the former Executive Editor of Teen Vogue and is the co-editor of Nasty Women: Feminism, Resistance and Revolution in Trump's America and the author of Outdated: Why Dating is Ruining Your Love Life, and the forthcoming book, The Myth of Making It

PHOTO BY HEATHER HAZZAN


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What You Should Know About Monkeypox

Dr. Darien on its symptoms, its contagion—and what we're getting wrong about it.

BY SAMHITA MUKHOPADHYAY

It’s been a big week for the monkeypox virus. The World Health Organization has said it is a “public health emergency of international concern.” On Friday, San Francisco and New York City declared a state of emergency to stop the spread. I’ve seen the pictures of people waiting in long lines to get the vaccines. (And the images of infections are terrifying). There are 3,000 confirmed cases in the United States. How worried should we be? 

I had more questions than answers, so I reached out to my friend Dr. Darien Sutton, an emergency physician and medical contributor on ABC. 

Samhita Mukhopadhyay: OK, let’s start at the beginning. What kind of virus is monkeypox, and how does it spread?

Dr. Darien Sutton: So, monkeypox belongs to a family of viruses called the orthopoxvirus, [which also] includes something we commonly know as smallpox. Smallpox was officially eradicated within the United States by 1980, thanks to vaccines. But after that, monkeypox continued, mainly endemic to places like central and Western Africa. It presents with similar symptoms [as smallpox], albeit milder, but it’s still something to be concerned about.

The symptoms we classically know monkeypox to be associated with include this whole body rash of papules and pimples that can be quite debilitating. What’s interesting now is that [in] the cases of monkeypox that we’re seeing outside of endemic areas around the world (the United States has the most reported known cases), the rashes are mainly localized in specific regions of patients’ bodies—that can be their hands, feet, shoulders, and genitals.

Transmission happens via contact, most often from close contact—skin to skin—but it can also happen from sharing items with someone infected, such as clothing or towels. There’s also the possibility of respiratory droplets, [though] not in the same way that COVID-19 transmits where it’s aerosolized and airborne; with monkeypox, droplets are less likely to transmit from person to person. To compare, to get COVID [through] a close physical interaction with someone without touching can require 15 minutes for transmission, but monkeypox requires around three hours. 

I saw some debate about whether monkeypox is an STI or not. Is it? Does it matter what we call it?

It is not an STI, and it does matter what we call it. It’s a contact virus. So it transfers from person to person through close contact, and the umbrella of contact includes sexual or intimate contact. So yes, it can be transmitted during sexual intercourse, but [that] is not the only form of transmission. 

That’s also, I think, part of why it’s been talked about as something that’s only affecting gay men. Is that true? How is it going to impact the larger population?

So the initial conversation and communication around monkeypox was that it might have been sexually transmitted and only affected gay men. And those inaccuracies put a lot of people at risk. When a pathogen first starts [to spread], it often will transmit within a self-associating community. It [just] so happened that the first couple of cases were associated with social events that involved gay and bisexual men

Through self-association, that pathogen will continue to transfer until it is stopped. And that’s why it’s so important to pay attention to early calls to action, especially when we heard from queer communities, thought leaders, and epidemiologists months ago that monkeypox was known to be a problem. But obviously, those calls were not heard or met with immediate responses [and] people were left with little to no resources [with delayed access to vaccines and treatment].

So now, we will see transmission outside of this initial self-associating group into the general population. And that’s why it’s important to explain to people how this virus can be transmitted and how everyone is at risk. Using language that defines the disease [with] the location or group you first find it in will always lead to misinformation. We don't call bacterial meningitis—which often happens in colleges— “college meningitis.” We didn’t call COVID “restaurant COVID” when we first saw outbreaks through indoor dining. 

We see pathogens all the time, and we don't define them by location or people, except when it happens to queer people. Then we quickly define them.

You make a good point: We have a real-time example of what happened with COVID and how it spread. What do you think has kind of caused the delay in vaccine distribution, especially since we know how important vaccines were to curb COVID?

Unfortunately, when the discussion involves sexuality or gender identity in science, the ball often gets fumbled. 

Adam Serwer wrote for the Atlantic that when wealthy, white politicians realized that COVID was disproportionately killing low-income and Black people, you suddenly saw calls for banning masks and reopening the economy. Do you see a similar pattern here?

I get concerned when a pathogen is identified with a group that’s already vulnerable. And that’s what I’m already starting to see. When I look in the comment sections [of stories] regarding monkeypox, I see a lot of obvious hatred and homophobia. I’ve seen what happens with COVID-19 misinformation, and I see how easy it is for misinformation to spread. And I’m afraid that homophobia will fuel this misinformation, off-tracking the direction we need to go. 

Before we go: What are your recommendations for staying safe from monkeypox?

Number one is education. [Then] awareness of symptoms. Many people may have mild to no symptoms and may not realize they are infectious with monkeypox. [But] if you have any pustules or pimples that are in places where you don't normally get them, and especially if they are associated with flu-like symptoms or swollen lymph nodes or fever, really pay attention and isolate yourself because you may be at risk of having a monkeypox infection. Check in with your local department of health to find access to testing. And then, if you are at risk [of infection], there may be vaccines available within your community that you can get that can protect you against a severe monkeypox infection.

The media acts surprised when a child or a pregnant person gets infected with monkeypox. It’s not a surprise. There’s an active outbreak. And I think a call to action continues for those governing this public health crisis to realize that this is a real problem. And although it may not have outcomes similar to COVID-19 in terms of hospitalizations, this can be detrimental to someone’s life.

Some tips from NPR on how to take precautions against monkeypox 

  • Avoid crowds where it’s hard not to touch other people.
  • Separate potentially contaminated fabrics [bedding, towels, linens used by someone who has been diagnosed] until they can be washed. 
  • Wash hands regularly! 
  • Disclose to potential sexual or intimate partners if you fear you may have been exposed. 
  • If you think you have been exposed or are at risk of exposure, you may be eligible for the vaccine.  
  • Stay up to date on monkeypox spread in your area.

Samhita Mukhopadhyay is a writer, editor, and speaker. She is the former Executive Editor of Teen Vogue and is the co-editor of Nasty Women: Feminism, Resistance and Revolution in Trump's America and the author of Outdated: Why Dating is Ruining Your Love Life, and the forthcoming book, The Myth of Making It

PHOTO BY HEATHER HAZZAN 


"It's Going to be Fucking Chaos"

BY SAMHITA MUKHOPADHYAY

As you know, the Supreme Court of the United States of America is set to overturn Roe v. Wade. The decision could come as early as tomorrow or likely in the next 10 days. If our worst fears are realized, this decision would set women’s rights and the rights of anyone with a uterus back generations.

In the days, weeks, months, and years ahead there will be, most likely, a lot of thinking, strategizing, protesting, and rabble-rousing (along with crying and fist-shaking). The path forward will be a long one. But what should we do in the very short term—the moment the decision comes in?

In anticipation of this moment, I sat down with Renee Bracey Sherman, a decades-long reproductive justice leader who, through her organization We Testify, has worked to elevate the stories of people who have had abortions. She also led the charge on the steps of the SCOTUS on the day the court heard oral arguments on Dobbs v. Jackson Women’s Health Organization, the case that will determine the future of abortion rights.

A LOVELY STROLL AROUND JUSTICE BRETT KAVANAUGH'S NEIGHBORHOOD. (PHOTO BY BONNIE CASH VIA GETTY IMAGES)

Samhita Mukhopadhyay: So, say the abortion decision comes in and it’s what we expect—meaning it overturns Roe v. Wade. What do the next 24 hours look like, especially in trigger-ban states? What happens if you have an appointment? 

Renee Bracey Sherman: My real answer is just, it's going to be fucking chaos, utter chaos.

In states with the trigger bans, [say] someone is in a clinic waiting for care—they might be mid-care, mid-counseling. And I just really feel for those people who will schedule their appointment and go in and get as far as doing the counseling, doing the ultra[sound], maybe even have their legs in the stirrups, and then when the decision comes down, [they] will have to get off the examination table. And I don't know that people realize how heartbreaking that’s going to be.

And then they’re not going to be able to just go down to another clinic on the street or not even to the next state. And we've already seen the cruelty of states like Oklahoma, that saw that people [coming from Texas, where abortion is largely already banned] needed care, and then turned around and said, “Cool, we're going to get rid of this so you can't come here.”

We’ll [also] have lawyers reading through the decision. Let’s say we are overturning or reversing Roe v. Wade and Planned Parenthood v. Casey. But then you have to [look] at the fine print of the decision. What about Roe is wrong? What about Casey is wrong? Are there legal grounds for us to sue? What is that in comparison to what the state laws are, or the state statute? What laws are still on the books? Because there are a lot of places where laws from the 1800s are still on the books. Roe [negated] those. Do those laws go back into effect? Is there kind of a cross mix? It's pure chaos.

A lot of clinics will have to stop providing immediately because of the trigger bans, but also because their lawyers are going to advise them to stop until they can read through the decision and assess the level of risk.

And it’s not going to be [just] 24 hours, but months and maybe even a year, because there’s going to be lawsuits. And so there are questions of, “Can we provide abortions today? Can we not?”

And I think that's the saddest part about it: that people are just not going to be able to have clear information. So what we're asking people to do is to avoid at all costs the sensationalism and the wanting to freak out. Because people are trying to get abortions in that moment and they won't know whether this tweet is correct or this information is correct, and it's just exhausting and chaotic.

And I don't know that people realize how heartbreaking that’s going to be.

It's interesting to consider the idea of staying calm at that moment.

Somebody did a tweet saying that Plan B had been banned in a state and that tweet got tens of thousands of retweets. Plan B hasn’t been banned anywhere! Your insurance might not cover it and that sucks, but it’s not banned. The anti-abortion movement has a vested interest in sowing dysfunction and chaos because they don’t want anyone to be able to get an abortion. What they want is for people to think, This is just too hard, I'm going to go to jail. It's going to be bad. It's going to be unsafe, and give up.

The thing is that, as we’ve known for the last 4,000 years, people who have abortions never give up. We’ve been doing it for a long time. We will keep doing it. That’s not going to change, but what we can do is ask people to take a breath and fact-check the information before spreading it widely and turning into alarmists. Is that a word?

That is a word! This idea of keeping calm and making sure your information is accurate, that’s a really important call to action. What other advice do you have for people who want to help right after the decision? Should we hit the streets? Should we be chaining ourselves to fire hydrants? 

We need all tactics. People absolutely should take to the streets and protest and make their voices heard. I do love a good protest and I want to make sure that we don’t have a couple of protests and then it dies off and people go back to accepting this as the new status quo and normalize this, which I feel is what’s happened over the last decade.

What’s really challenging at this moment is that we are being attacked from eight million different directions and so people do lose interest, because there's another tragedy or another horrible decision to come down. So how do we keep the stamina to actually make a change so that the people who are harmed in the process aren’t forgotten?

Yes, absolutely protest. Absolutely vote, for sure. Vote for pro-abortion candidates up and down. Become a single-issue voter. If your candidate is not super supportive of abortion, I promise you they’re probably not good on a whole lot of other issues either. I've never met an anti-abortion candidate who was excellent on Medicaid coverage of healthcare and immigration and literally everything else.

But then getting involved in your community is really what I ask people to do. Open up to your community. Become a person that people can go to, to receive care. Whether that’s opening up your home, opening up your car for rides, giving up your time at a local clinic or clinic defense, if that’s what the clinic wants. And then, of course, show up and become a monthly donor to your local abortion fund. Also, know the self-managed abortion protocol. You may not need it, but someone in your life may need it.

I think it's really, really essential that people look around at what’s happening in their communities because there is a lot of work happening already. You do not have to recreate the wheel. Do not try to create an “underground railroad”; just stop. That's really anti-Black language. It's terrible. Just get involved with the people who are doing [that kind of work already] because there are a lot of security protocols and if you can’t give of your time or your money, that’s fine. You can just show up with love and support for the people in your life who need abortions and start the conversation at home. That’s really where we need to do the work.

You’ve been doing reproductive justice work for over a decade. How are you feeling right now? 

I feel like I constantly swing between tired, frustrated, feeling a lot of despair, and also feeling like this sucks [but] we've got this. And I think there are days that it's extremely draining because we didn't have to be here if people [had taken] racial justice, economic justice, access to healthcare, and feminism seriously. But also, I'm in the middle of co-writing a book on the history of Black and brown people's experiences with abortion, and in working on that…I feel a little bit hopeful. Reading a lot of books on the history of abortion, it puts it in perspective when I'm thinking about this as something that's been [an] issue for thousands of years.

So I have to just remember that this moment in time is one blip on the large, expansive history of humankind and the history of abortion and that there has always been some sort of white supremacist, white Christian nationalist forces to try to tamp down, not just abortion, but sex and sexuality and people just living their lives. So I have to go, “Okay, this is part of it, and we can survive through this.”


Samhita Mukhopadhyay is a writer, editor, and speaker. She is the former Executive Editor of Teen Vogue and is the co-editor of Nasty Women: Feminism, Resistance and Revolution in Trump's America and the author of Outdated: Why Dating is Ruining Your Love Life, and the forthcoming book, The Myth of Making It

Photo by Heather Hazzan