By Christiana Paradis, Director of Title IX Compliance
Content Warning: The article below contains information about dating violence and homicide. If you need to speak with someone you can call Transitions of PA 24/7 at 1-800-950-7948.
Often people ask about how I got involved working in the field of domestic and sexual violence, I have multiple answers and depending on my comfort level, the size of the room, etc. I answer accordingly. Every answer is authentic, but there is one that hits deeper than the rest. It’s also the answer I share the least…until now.
My first year of college, on my third day of classes I was waiting in line for the dining hall. Since our university had a common hour the line for the dining hall was always incredibly long at this time. I was standing with my roommate and three guys were behind us. We all commiserated over the length of the line the entire way until we were swiped in. My roommate and I grabbed food and then the only table we could find, which just happened to be a six-seater, even though there was only two of us. A few moments later, the guys that were behind us in line came into the room looking for a table. Without thinking I invited them to our table, mostly because I felt pathetic that we didn’t have any other friends to fill it, but also, let’s be honest, one of the guys was really cute. They sat with us and “the cute one” and I instantly hit it off.
We started instant messaging daily and late into the night (yes, this was still the era of AIM and texting wasn’t really a thing yet). I often went to his residence hall to hang out with him and his two friends. That’s when I met Emily. Emily and her friends were in my eyes “the cool girls.” They were friends with all the crunchy hippies on campus and frequently organized peace walks or fundraisers to end hunger. She once told me she liked my T-shirt and I proceeded to wear it ALL the time after that. I wanted to be cool like Emily and I was still struggling to make friends.
Fast forward to a year and a half later. I was still talking to, but more routinely fighting with “the cute one.” I started to get worn down by him constantly picking on me for my weight, hair, and “ugly face.” I got tired of financially supporting him, while I worked two jobs.
The day before Easter break, I was heading on a field trip to a local forest with my environmental policy class. While waiting for the bus, students started to murmur frantically. “Who do you think it was?” “Why aren’t they telling us anything?” “I’ve never seen the CUB so packed!” I had no idea what anyone was talking about. I came to learn that an email was sent out to the student body and a mandatory meeting took place over lunch. I didn’t get email on my phone, so I had no idea. Apparently, a student had been murdered, they informed the campus, but couldn’t share much information until family was notified.
While on our field trip one student had to leave early, she was upset. When we got back on the bus people started to mention “the Peace House.” I texted my friend, he remained close to the girls on his floor. He messaged back a few minutes later, it was Emily.
Emily Silverstein was murdered during my sophomore year of college in an off-campus apartment by her ex-boyfriend. She was 19.
I remember my entire sense of safety rocked. I remember her friends in the Peace House walking around with willow branches in their hair as Emily often did. I remember the memorial, hearing her parents speak, saying they could never have imagined she was in an abusive relationship and that they would have to bury her now. I remember walking out of the church, reporters and cameras set up across the street filming everyone crying and picking off people for interviews. It was so violating; we were kids who were grieving. I remember that night my roommate and I trying to process it all. I remember saying, “Why didn’t she know she was in an abusive relationship? She could have gotten help.”
A year later I would realize I posed that question while I was in an abusive relationship.
I got out of that relationship because I transferred to Susquehanna. My love for SU goes far deeper than many realize. Yes, I fell in love with the campus and the community I built here as a student, but what many don’t know is that it was also my escape. It was the first place I felt safe in a long time.
I do this work because I want that for every student on our campus. I want SU to be a place to feel safe, to learn and to grow.
