Despite the five inches of rain and the subsequent scorching heat, I felt at home again in Madison after returning from the Arizona desert. After settling back into my apartment, I went out on a date — which went rather well, a long drive into the country, dinner at a microbrewery and dessert on the way home. After the date, we walked out to my car, which I parked out on the street near Henry Vilas Zoo. Then, over my shoulder I heard, "Oh my God, Jeff, I'm so sorry." I saw the back of my Jeep. Someone spray painted the hatch and rear bumper.
My first thought after the initial shock of the vandalism was, "Welcome back to Madison."
Looking over the damage to my Jeep, a torrent of thoughts ran through my head:
What other damage is there to my vehicle?
Who would do something like this to my truck? Was it college students who painted my vehicle because it is technically a gas-guzzling, soccer-mom SUV or some of the disgruntled residents from the low-income housing project a few blocks away?
Why was my vehicle targeted? Was it because it was a Jeep? Was it because of the Arizona plates? The "Support the Troops" ribbon? The color?
Why me?
Fortunately, while looking over my Jeep, I did not notice any other damage. There was just a drawing of what seemed to be male body parts in bright orange spray paint. Then, glancing down the street, I saw that every car on that street also got hit with the same spray paint. Ironically, despite the damage to the other vehicles, I felt slightly better that I was not the only one. Sometimes misery does, in fact, love company.
The news stories in The Badger Herald concerning the increase of crime in Madison are inundated with statistics concerning the rise in crimes such as vandalism and assault. For many of us on campus, the statistics are disconcerting, but they can be boring or even tiresome. After all, this is Madison, and this is a safe place, right?
For me, however, I have become one of those statistics.
Fixing my Jeep was relatively easy. I made a few phone calls to the insurance company and the body shop, took my vehicle in, got a rental car, and had to wait it out a few days before shelling out the deductible for the paint removal. Being a victim to a crime was irritating and annoying, but the damage for me was only some money and a lot of worrying over how bad the vandalism truly was.
For many other victims on campus, however, there is no easy fix to the damage from which they have suffered. For the UW junior that was beaten in her stairwell Aug. 23 and the woman who was sexually assaulted on Labor Day on University Avenue, the damage is not something that a body shop can fix.
At one point or another, I have thought that sometimes a victim may have "asked for it." Did I "ask for it" when my vehicle was vandalized? All I did was park it on the street. Maybe I could have parked it on a side street. Maybe I could have parked in a ramp. Maybe I could have taken a bus. Maybe I should have just stayed home.
For me, being a victim was just bad luck. I just happened to park my Jeep at the wrong place at the wrong time. There was nothing I could have done to predict that on that night someone was going to vandalize a few dozen cars. On the other hand, I was somewhat lucky. My Jeep was not destroyed. I did not get attacked. I am more cautious of where I park now, but I am not afraid to leave my apartment or even take the stairs to the laundry room.
The two women who have recently been assaulted, however, are not nearly as lucky. My incident caused me a bit of anger and a lot of annoyance for a few days. For them, the emotional scars may last for the rest of their lives. They are the victims of crimes that should not happen to anyone for any reason, crimes for which these women will need the support of their family, friends, and community.
Any of us can become a victim, yet nobody asks to be a victim. I know that every victim in Madison, including me, did not ask to become a victim.
Jeff Carnes ([email protected]) is a senior majoring in linguistics.
