A college student walks home alone after a late-night study session. A girl stands in the front row at a concert. A man catches up with an old friend. Four women are separated after arriving at a party. In each of these situations, something goes wrong. Each of these people falls prey to the same tragedy that strikes one in five college-age women, and each one must choose how to deal with the fallout and public opinion about their sexual assault.

Everyone is affected by sexual assault and rape culture, whether you or someone you love has been assaulted or you exist in this world shaped by powerful abusers. In the decade I’ve been writing (words and music) about power-based violence, many have embraced a hyper-carceral mindset regarding sexual assault: one that continues to ignore victims’ needs and pretends that the key to a brighter future is punishment alone. Letters from the Aftermath is my adventure into the moments in an assault victim’s life that the media and the world would rather ignore. Whose responsibility should it be to prevent assault? How does that conflict with what we hear and say today? Who actually is here to help after an assault takes place? And what does “justice” even mean in a world that—at its most generous—only offers victims a chance at a criminal case and untold years of isolation and hurt?

Ultimately, Letters will act as an intermediary, a collection of musical works for various ensembles that are open to interdisciplinary collaboration (particularly with actors and dancers) but also can be presented as standalone pieces. Each installment is story-driven, emphasizing the need for more voices in the conversation about sexual assault. Letters will immerse concertgoers in a victim’s/survivor’s/casualty’s world, drawing the audience in but requesting that they kindly leave their traditions at the door.

Just remember, with assault, there’s only one rule….

Music:

N.B.: works with an asterisk (*) were created during the development of face the mirror.

If you have been assaulted in the past and you’re hurting but open to the idea that you might have happier days ahead someday, I actually recommend starting with go to the garden, which isn’t a formal part of this collection but is about experiencing a traumatic event, struggling, and coming out the other side willing to keep loving life and the people who make it worth living. There is a playlist of many different performers’ interpretations of the piece linked on its page. If you are prepared to face your own story, you may also find solace in like no one’s watching, as it is the… least explicitly angry? of my existing works in this area (as of September 2026). There is no video or audio recording of this work, because it is extremely personal to each reader who encounters it.

If you want to start with the louder and/or angrier stuff, you might enjoy People Talk, walking/I’m sorry, Mom (which is still hard for me to listen to years later), and Take What You Want. Please bear in mind that videos of these performances may be upsetting to some viewers.

Watch walking/I’m sorry, Mom featuring the CalArts Contemporary Vocal Ensemble (Gillian Rae Perry and Julie Reames, narrators):

Watch People Talk as performed by The Ensemble at CalArts (Nicholas Deyoe, conductor; Leila Jay, narrator):

Writings:

Below I’m compiling a list of my blog posts and other writings that directly relate to sexual assault, sexual harassment, or other aspects of rape culture.

Recommended Reading:

For folks looking to do right by the people in their lives—both in understanding what healing from assault might look like and in being the positive change you want to see in the world—I recommend the following:

How to Do Consent (without Sounding Like a Robot): Learning Boundaries, Navigating Discomfort, and Getting to Know What You Really Want by Mia Schachter. If you, like me, thought you didn’t need to read a book on consent because you get the idea already, you will (probably) be pleasantly surprised at the beautiful, viscous nuance in this book. It discusses not only how consent is best approached as a fluid practice that moves and changes with time but also how we talk about consent violations and the limitations of cancel culture and other carceral approaches to consent culture.

Know My Name by Chanel Miller. For people who have experienced an assault and are prepared to read Chanel’s accounting of her experience, I cannot recommend this enough. We first met Chanel as Emily Doe in Brock Turner’s trial, and I return to her memoir time and time again with fresh eyes, finding something new to stop me in my tracks every time I open the book. To me, it feels like a warm hug, because Chanel understands and doesn’t shy away from the hard parts of her journey but instead leans in with compassion for her past and present self. (I was extremely lucky to get to meet her at a panel and signing at the Portland Book Festival in 2024, and it remains one of my most cherished experiences.)

Some years ago, I assembled a list of basic resources regarding feminism, sexual assault, and related topics because I still had too many peers and colleagues who were never going to bother to look things up themselves. Click here to access that list.

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