Our Judicial System is Racist and Sexist

Our Judicial System is Racist and Sexist

Jacob Anderson and Cyntoia Brown have both recently went to trial for rape - one as a perpetrator, and one as a victim. The differences between the two cases are astonishing.


In the past few days, social media has been filled to the brim with posts about Jacob Anderson and/or Cyntoia Brown. In order to understand the blatant gender and race preferences that were acted upon in these trials, you must first understand the situations that both of these people were in.

Cyntoia Brown is a 30-year-old black woman who is a victim of sex trafficking. She was raped by many men, who paid her pimp, to sleep with her. Not only that, but she was under age - 16. Her pimp beat, raped, and abused her and forced her into prostitution without her consent. When Brown was forced by her pimp to meet up with Johnny Allen, she shot him in the head and tried to escape.

Jacob Anderson is a 23-year-old white boy who raped a fellow student at Baylor University in 2016. He was the Phi Delta Theta fraternity president and raped a 19-year-old sophomore girl at his own party.

Stay with me now - we have a 16-year-old serial rape, prostitution, and abuse victim, and a rapist.

One got 51 years in prison without parole and the other got a plea deal of a $400 fine and mandatory counseling.

Now, I know what you're thinking. Naturally, the rapist got sentenced to prison and the rape victim who acted in self-defense had to get counseling.


In America, our judicial system likes to be completely backward and disgusting.

Because Cyntoia Brown is a black woman, she will serve life in prison for the murder of one of many of her rapists. Because Jacob Anderson is a white boy, he will give the government his daddy's money and barely show up to counseling once a month.

One black woman will spend the rest of her life in prison because the court couldn't find "enough evidence" that she was a victim of rape or sex trafficking. One will get to do whatever he wants for the rest of his life without even having to register as a sex offender.

If you don't see the extreme, horrifying differences in these situations you are part of the problem. It is impossible to compare them excluding race and gender. Because if you did, the results would be the exact opposite. A black man rapes a woman at a party - prison time. A white woman kills a rapist - plea deal. Our judicial system has never been unbiased or impartial. Your sex and color decide your fate.

This isn't the only instance. Take Brock Turner. He was a white collegiate athlete who raped another student. He got 6 months in prison and got out 3 months early. Take Lawrence McKinney. He was a black man convicted of rape and burglary charges and sentenced to 115 years in prison. It turned out that he was innocent and had been wrongfully imprisoned for 31 years. Corrections gave him $75 to start his life over.

There are many cases in recent American history where women and minorities have seen the absolute worst of our judicial system. Every time, it favors the white man. It's time for our country to change. It's time for us to hold judges and other officials accountable for their racist and sexist actions until they change. Until a woman can fearlessly accuse a rapist, a minority of any gender can claim self-defense, and a white man found guilty of a crime can actually suffer for it, nothing will change.

Click here to help grant Cyntoia Brown clemency. Click here to help UT Dallas get rapist Jacob Anderson off their campus.

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Please Spare Me From The Three Months Of Summer Break When People Revert Back To High Schoolers

They look forward to swapping stories with their friends at the local diner, walking around their old high school with a weird sense of superiority, and reminiscing their pre-college lives.


I know a surprising amount of people who actually couldn't wait to go home for the summer. They look forward to swapping stories with their friends at the local diner, walking around their old high school with a weird sense of superiority, and reminiscing their pre-college lives.

Me? Not so much. I don't mean to sound bitter. It's probably really comforting to return to a town where everyone knows your name, where your younger friends want you around to do their prom makeup, and where you can walk through Target without hiding in the deodorant aisle. But because I did this really annoying thing where my personality didn't really develop and my social anxiety didn't really loosen its grip on me until college, I have a very limited number of people to return to.

If you asked someone from my high school about Julia Bond, they would probably describe her as shy, studious, and uptight. I distinctly remember being afraid of people who JUULed (did you get high from it? was it illegal? could I secondhand smoke it and get lung cancer?) and crying over Algebra 1 in study hall (because nothing says fun and friendly like mascara steaks and furious scribbling in the back corner while everyone else throws paper airplanes and plays PubG Mobile).

I like to tell my college friends that if I met High School Julia, I would beat her up. I would like to think I could, even though I go to the gym now a third of the time I did then. It's not that it was High School Julia's fault that she closed herself off to everyone. She had a crippling fear of getting a B and an even worse fear of other people. But because she was so introverted and scared, College Julia has nothing to do but re-watch "The Office" for the 23rd time when she comes back.

Part of me is jealous of the people who came into their own before college. I see pictures of the same big friend groups I envied from a distance in high school, all their smiling faces at each other's college football games and pool parties and beach trips, and it makes me sad that I missed out on so many friendships because I was too scared to put myself out there. That part of me really, really wishes I had done things differently.

But a bigger, more confident part of me is really glad I had that experience. Foremost, everything I've gone through has shaped me. I mean, I hid in the freaking bathroom during lunch for the first two weeks of my freshman year of high school. I never got up to sharpen my pencil because I was scared people would talk about me. I couldn't even eat in front of people because I was so overwhelmingly self-conscious. I remember getting so sick at cross country practice because I ran four or five miles on an empty stomach.

Now, I look back and cringe at the ridiculousness because I've grown so much since then. Sure, I still have my quirks and I'm sure a year from now I'll write an article about what a weirdo Freshman Julia was. But I can tell who had the same experience as me. I can tell who was lonely in high school because they talk to the kids on my floor that study by themselves. I can tell who was afraid of speaking up because they listen so well. I can tell who was without a friend group because they stand by me when others don't. I can tell who hated high school, because it's obvious that they've never been as happy as they are now.

My dislike for high school, while inconvenient for this summer, might be one of the best things to happen to me. I learned how to overcome my fears, how to be independent, and how to make myself happy. I never belonged in high school, and that's why I will never take for granted where I belong here at Rutgers.

So maybe I don't have any prom pictures with a bunch of colorful dresses in a row, and maybe I didn't go to as many football games as I should have. Maybe I would've liked pep rallies, and maybe I missed out on senior week at the beach. But if I had experienced high school differently, I wouldn't be who I am today.

I wouldn't pinch myself daily because I still can't believe how lucky I am to have the friends that I do.

I wouldn't smile so hard every time I come back from class and hear my floormates calling me from the lounge.

I wouldn't well up when my roommate leaves Famous Amos cookies on my desk before a midterm, or know how to help the girl having a panic attack next to me before a final, or hear my mom tell my dad she's never seen me this happy before.

If I had loved high school, I wouldn't realize how amazing I have it in college. So amazing, in fact, that I never want to go home.

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It’s Okay To Be Vulnerable

Vulnerability Is Not A Bad Thing.


One of the scariest things in the world is vulnerability. Letting someone is and allowing them to know what's going on can be absolutely terrifying, but life is a lot harder when you're doing it alone. Now let's just get on with thing clear, vulnerability is very much a struggle for the writer of this blog.

I've always kept what's going on to myself because I didn't want my burdens to become burdens for those around me and I have trusted people before and completely was robbed of it. Over the years of struggles with anxiety and depression, I've learned that holding it in and not being vulnerable is one of the most unhealthy things you can do and makes everything so much worse. The good thing about being vulnerable isn't that you get to choose who's you're vulnerable with.

You don't have to be vulnerable with everyone, but you need to be vulnerable with someone. People were placed in your life for a purpose and there are people around you who do care and who want to be let in. Don't hold back when it comes to those who care about you most. Vulnerability is a hard thing to face, but it is an amazing thing to allow yourself to face.

Vulnerability breaks down barriers, helps you find your own inner strength and brings you closer to the ones who want to build that relationship with you. Vulnerability with the wrong person sucks, but vulnerability with the right person is amazing. Don't let the bad that came from the vulnerability with the wrong person stop you from being vulnerable with the right person. That person that has been with you through it all, that person that loves you for you and not what you can offer them, that person that wants the absolute best for you and challenges you to be the absolute best, that's the right person, that's the person to be vulnerable with.

Open up and talk because people want to listen.


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