Know My Name: A Memoir

Never really read a memoir before but I followed this story on the news. This book is incredible. The insights, the back story telling, the debt, the emotions. This is a review of someone who actually read it front to back. Not scanned or heard from a friend, like some of these “bad reviews”. They sound like they’ve never even read a book. And I find it ironic how people, even in the reviews, are trying to damage her name and pull her down. What happened can not be denied, he was found doing it. No matter what, men will never have to truly worry about getting too drunk and waking up with another man thrusting himself into you. You’d wake up and be like what a crazy night bro, let’s do it again. It’s the world we live in where victims aren’t considered victims if its a man doing the crime. And her story, this story, proves it time and time again. She didn’t have too many drinks and drink and drive and kill someone. She’s not the perpetrator. No one, man or women, deserves to be raped because they drank too much, or went to a frat party, or wore a dress. We need to take care of our fellow human beings. Why is it easily to take advantage of someone than to help them? I’m glad she put her name out. I’m glad she wants to tell her side, HER TRUTH, not the media’s and not what Brock “thought” happened. He’s a predator. Just like a cheater, he isn’t mad for what he did, just that he got caught. Wouldn’t be surprised if she wasn’t his first. How could you think someone who isn’t even conscious was enjoying it. F***ing disgusting on him and anyone that believes him. Great job Chanel.

I don't think I've ever read a book that made me feel this seen. Chanel's writing is precise, devastating, and unexpectedly beautiful. This book captures the emotional reality of trauma in a way I've never seen articulated so clearly - the confusion, the loss of agency, the quiet rage, and the long aftermath that doesn't resolve neatly.

“You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.” Chanel Miller was raped on Sunday, 18 January 2015. Chanel learned what happened to her at the same time as the rest of the world. She was treated in a hospital, endured the indignity of a rape kit and spoke to a detective who believed and didn’t judge her. This sexual assault gained worldwide attention but it was Brock Turner’s name we knew; Chanel’s identity was erased. The trial resulted in guilty verdicts on three counts but, in my view, the punishment did not fit the crime; it may as well have been a slap on the wrist. I didn’t follow the story of Chanel’s sexual assault in the media. Even still, I knew the words ‘Stanford’, ‘rape’, ‘swimmer’. My introduction to this book was via a publisher’s emailed newsletter, which is how I learn about so many of the books I need to read. I wasn’t sure it was for me though, until I ugly cried my way through Chanel’s video, ‘I Am With You’. I needed to know more about this intelligent, creative woman. Still, I waited patiently for my library to purchase a copy. I made it all the way to page 23 before I finally figured out I needed my own copy, one I could highlight to my heart’s content and return to as often as I needed. I don’t know if I’m more grateful or sad that I found this book so relatable. This is Chanel Miller’s story. Author. Artist. Daughter. Sister. Friend. Girlfriend. Survivor. A woman who has experienced raped, but who is so much more. “This is an attempt to transform the hurt inside myself, to confront a past, and find a way to live with and incorporate these memories. I want to leave them behind so I can move forward. In not naming them, I finally name myself. My name is Chanel. I am a victim, I have no qualms with this word, only with the idea that it is all that I am.” Although our stories are vastly different, so much of Chanel’s story resonated with me. While I hurt for her and was furious on her behalf as I read about her experiences, I was also lifted by her strength, determination and resilience. I had trouble reading some parts, either because they reminded me too much of my own story or, oddly enough, because they didn’t. I needed to step away and distract myself with a children’s book or play with Lego at times, but my overall takeaway from this book is hope. The hope of words reaching out to me and encouraging me to hold on when difficult times find me: “You have to hold out to see how your life unfolds, because it is most likely beyond what you can imagine. It is not a question of if you will survive this, but what beautiful things await you when you do.” The hope that comes in the form of a narrative that doesn’t sugar coat what recovery from trauma looks and feels like: “As a survivor, I feel a duty to provide a realistic view of the complexity of recovery.” The hope that therapy can offer: “It feels better when the story is outside myself.” Although I don’t know Chanel I feel like I got to know her as I read her story; this is a woman I would want to be friends with. I loved being introduced to Chanel’s family and friends, and want to personally thank every single person who has supported, encouraged and validated her. My heart grew several sizes as I read about professionals who exuded empathy and compassion. Sure, there were others I wanted to slap, but the ones who went above and beyond reminded me that there are people out there who can soften the blow when trauma finds you. Chanel truly is a writer. She can paint a scene so vivid that I felt I was inside it. She took me on an emotional journey with her; I may have felt it more because I was revisiting my own at the same time but I think I would have felt the highs and lows regardless. I want to recommend this book to everyone, but especially to those whose professions bring them into contact with victims of sexual assault, whose responses can either provide validation or add to the trauma. “This book does not have a happy ending. The happy part is there is no ending, because I’ll always find a way to keep going.” If I were Chanel I don’t think I would ever want to read another word written about me. I’m just so proud of her though. Chanel, if you ever read this, please know that I believe you and I am with you. Although I’ve never attempted anything like what Chanel has accomplished here I have needed to write statements that include the details of sexual assault and know how impossible it can feel both to find the right words and to revisit memories with sharp edges. Chanel has done an incredible job and I’m really look forward to reading whatever she writes in the future. Content warnings are included in my Goodreads review.

First the one thing that bothered me: I repurchased this book after lending the first and not getting it back. I don’t mind so much that they kept it but I do hate that when I bought the book again the cover has a New York times bestseller “sticker” (for it is not a sticker it is printed on the cover to look like a sticker) and shortened cover to expose another New York Times bestseller advertisement. Adore the book so much I bought it again, but I do despise the New York Times Bestseller mutilation of the cover. I dearly hope to see more books from Chanel on whatever topic she chooses. Her style feels like, genre and topic aside, a bit like Christopher Moore- full of little honest, human moments of self reflection. Her writing skill is inarguable, she brings you with her on her journey. It does not feel like a documentary or a tragic play or even a story written to shock you into action. She writes so genuinely it feels like you are standing next to her as these years played out experiencing it in the same step as she did; and just being with her in her story you'll feel tragedy, shock, action. The content is emotionally hard, and there is no way it could be anything else. You feel yourself getting hopeful and then feel your hope crushed as its taken away. The aftermath of shock, struggling with PTSD while a court case prods into every tiny fallible action you may have taken, the disappointment in the institutions when the case closes and still you are left unsupported. So many feelings and fears Chanel described in this book rang true for me and almost a decade after needing to read this, I finally don't feel alone. I have never remembered an author's name so easily as with this book and I hope Chanel Miller continues to write and create because she absolutely has the spirit and the skill for it.

As a sexual assault survivor who was raped and going thru the court system at the same time as Chanel, the Brock Turner rape case was inextricably tied to the ups and downs of my own recovery. I was her and she was me as the court system churned and slowly tortured us both. To be able to read her statement and see it gain global attention helped me immensely to put words to what I had experienced. Now I got to preorder her book, know her name, and support her. I read this book in about seven hours. It was like walking back thru the last 4 years of my own recovery in an alternate universe—Chanel’s universe. I found everything she said so grounding in its honesty. It was never unnecessarily graphic or gruesome for cheap shock value, but a rich and complex prose of how it is to be a woman and lose any girlish notions of safety or naïveté when sexual violence occurs. This is as accurate a portrait of survivorship as one can find and there are millions of portraits just like her walking around you everyday as 1 in 5 women experience sexual violence. Chanel is unique and beautiful and yet not unique as millions identify with her experiences. Please read and support this critical and multilayered analysis of her experience as she ties it to her childhood all the way thru several current political events of today. My boyfriend supported me for wherever I needed to be emotionally while reading this book, sleeping on the couch to stay in the room with me til almost 4am when I was done. He knows I am a sexual abuse survivor and now he can read this book and the weight of trying to describe on my own what that’s like is lighter because Chanel has sacrificed yet again. Lastly, I want to say this book was very healing for my sense of self esteem. It’s hard to explain why but hearing ways she has reclaimed herself thru the endless war with herself as a victim mirrors my fight also. Her validation journey helps me access more firmly my own validation. I cried more happy healing tears than sad tears. I will never forget this book.

Lovely book. Highly recommend for those interested in criminal justice from a unique perspective.

TRIGGER WARNING! Also, the outcome is revealed, if a reader does not yet know it: The author Chanel Miller has a beautiful ability to write, and she thoroughly describes both the effects of discovering you have been raped and the continued stress of going through the court system. Although this book is obviously not "fun" to read, I could not put it down. I marked passages as eloquent, dog-eared pages, and underlined descriptive phrases. I was appalled at the lack of information shared with Chanel, all while the press was given details they did not need. (Why is it OK to share police photos of victims in humiliating situations??) Chanel had the "advantage" of multiple witnesses to her attack, multiple witnesses to her state of mind (She was found unconscious, outside in the dirt, with a man still humping against her.) Brave witnesses caught and held that man, who was immediately arrested. She was thoroughly examined for evidence. ALL the needed evidence and witnesses were gathered. Yet...even so...the procedures and trial (drawn out over years) and the requirement to repeatedly share the details with strangers, while many of those strangers doubt your credibility and challenge your mind, seemed to cause as much of the mental and emotional damage as the original attack. Those of us who have been assaulted watched in horror to see that even the rare case with witnesses and evidence results in the person labeled victim under attack, while the known perpetrator gets excuses, and people cry at the loss of his potential. As we read this book, we sadly also feel affirmed in our choices to NOT report (at first). But then, Chanel "wins" the trial! Due to California statute technicalities (since fixed, THANK YOU CHANEL!), sexual assault charges were successful, but rape charges had been dropped. She "won." YET, the horror continued, as the system totally messed up the victim impact discovery (a phone call by someone who had not yet been involved in the case?!) In spite of this, Chanel's bravery and her gift of writing expression clearly described to the judge that she had been devastated by the convicted offender. Chanel reveals that the same judge who had just uncivilly interrupted and rushed a victim impact statement from the woman whose case was before Chanel's goes on to ignores Chanel and spends his time pitying the effect all this will have upon the CONVICT! The rapist gets 3 months in jail. Fortunately, some wise people shared Chanel's statement online, and the world opened its eyes to the injustice. Many of us read that statement with deep understanding, and her bravery changed our decision of silence. We shared her statement, and we spoke out to loved ones and friends about what had happened to us. Now Chanel shares her name and her story. It is difficult to read, but it should be required reading for everyone involved in the justice system, for every health care professional who WILL encounter abused women, for anyone who has doubts when a woman shares her story, and for any man who wants to love and care for any woman. Unfortunately, those who most need to read this book will never choose it. The book motivates me to say: Those of us who care CAN make a difference. We need to change societal norms, so that more of us will #Be the Swede. We can train our sons and daughters to look out for others and to NOT accept even the slightest predatory behavior by anyone. Brock's fraternity brothers saw how he was behaving, LONG before he assaulted Chanel. They should have stopped him. It is likely that at least several people saw Chanel stumbling about before the attack. They should have gotten her a ride home. We've made progress with designated drivers, perhaps we also need designated party sobers, too. Most of all, we simply need to take the time to listen to others and to care.

Such an amazing, beautifully written book. I have recommended to it so many people. Chanel is such a talented storyteller. I listed to it on audiobook and she narrated. I highly recommend listening to it! Nothing compares to listening to an author read their own story.

Know My Name by Chanel Miller is a deeply personal memoir that breaks the silence surrounding sexual assualt and it's aftermath. The most striking aspect of this book is the lyrical prose.Her voice is clear and unwavering. This book is a testament to Miller's resilience, courage and determination to reclaim her narrative and challenge the societal norms which perpetuate victim blaming and shame. This one will resonate with readers long after they finish the book.

I’ve always believed women are extraordinary. They are stronger, faster learners, emotionally resilient, and they give life—qualities that make them more powerful than physical strength ever could. Women deserve to be cherished and celebrated for the incredible beings they are. This book is a must-read. For women, it’s a gentle yet powerful reminder that after experiencing SA, their feelings are valid. They are allowed to feel whatever they need to feel without guilt or blame, even when society tries to make them believe otherwise. For men, it’s a crucial wake-up call. What might be a fleeting moment for them can devastate a woman’s entire world, leaving her to carry the weight of guilt, shame, and pain for years, if not a lifetime. Reading Chanel Miller’s story opened my heart in ways I didn’t expect. It brought to light the profound, often invisible battles that many endure—the therapy, the endless tears, the fractured self-esteem—all because of someone else’s selfish actions. Even though I haven’t experienced the same assault, I deeply resonate with the pain of losing a part of yourself to someone else’s wrongdoings. That loss, that invasion, stays with you, reshaping how you see yourself and the world. Chanel’s story also touches on larger societal issues, from infamous cases to the systemic shame that often protects perpetrators and silences victims. It’s heartbreaking to live in a world where humanity is so often overlooked, where people in power minimize the profound impact of such experiences. This book didn’t just teach me—it moved me. It filled me with empathy and a deeper understanding of the resilience it takes to survive such trauma. Chanel’s bravery in sharing her story is a light in the darkness, a testament to the strength it takes to reclaim your voice. To anyone who is struggling, who feels unseen or unheard: stay strong. This book is a reminder that you are not alone, and your pain matters. Thank you, Chanel Miller, for your courage and your voice. Your story has touched my soul in ways words can barely describe.

book came in really good condition, cant wait to read it

<b><i>To the faceless, the ones who remain anonymous. We each have a name. You have taught me to be proud of mine.</b></i> This is a memoir like no other - compelling, powerful, emotionally draining but uplifting at the same time. Chanel Miller is more than a rape victim, a survivor, an inspiration. She is also a helluva writer. She has a masterful ability to translate her innermost thoughts and anguish into words that allow the reader to gaze into her tortured psyche throughout her whole ordeal from the time she woke up dazed and confused in the hospital, <i>Where did I go. What was taken. It is terror swallowed inside silence. An unclipping from the world where up was up and down was down. This moment is not pain, not hysteria, not crying. It is your insides turning to cold stones. It is utter confusion paired with knowing. Gone is the luxury of growing up slowly. So begins the brutal awakening.</i> to her slow realisation that her body had been violated by a stranger while she was unconscious, <i>I could not fathom how I'd found myself in a sterile room, one toilet, no underwear, along. I would not ask the deputy if he happened to know where my underwear was, because a part of me understood I was not ready to hear to hear the answer</i> to the highly anxious and intrusive process of preparing for and testifying in court, <i>My memory was being flicked on and off like a light. She’s wrong, shut up, hurry up, stop talking, so stricken, keep going, narrative, objection. I couldn’t get oriented. The interruptions felt like being hit. DA: Other than being confused about where you were, what were you confused about? I lost it, throwing open my arms, pleading, I didn’t know where my sister was. I didn’t know where I was. I didn’t know what they were talking about. I didn’t know anything. There was no explanation. And they tell me, and I thought, “You have the wrong person.” I thought they must be confused. I thought, “I just want to find my sister and go home.” I let go, emptying my lungs into the grape-sized microphone. Guttural sounds crawled out of my throat, long and loud. I didn’t collect myself, didn’t take my little sip of water, didn’t daintily dab at the tips of my eyes, didn’t say I’m okay, just decided, you will wait for as long as it takes. This is it, everybody. Here it is, you did it.</i> to writing that now famous victim's impact statement that went viral (https://www.buzzfeednews.com/article/katiejmbaker/heres-the-powerful-letter-the-stanford-victim-read-to-her-ra) <i>You don’t know me, but you’ve been inside me, and that’s why we’re here today. ...You took away my worth, my privacy, my energy, my time, my safety, my intimacy, my confidence, my own voice, until today.</i> and finally to her and the world's reaction to <i>that</i> verdict (six months in county jail, although Turner only served three) and its fallout with the recalling of Judge Persky, the presiding judge responsible for the totally inadequate sentence. <i> Rape hotlines were ringing, calls and volunteers increasing... ...Many wrote to me saying they had been in my position before, wanted to show me who survivors become, told me about their careers, their kids, caring partners. This is what your life can look like in ten, twenty years. They gave me one thousand futures to grow into. In my anonymity, I tried on their lives and watched as they tried on mine. They became young again, finally declaring what they deserved, reclaiming all that had been taken. Healing was possible in that empty space.</i> I wanted so many times to take a break from the relentlesss graphic details, the despair, the panic attacks, the emotional gut punches, the intensely painful experience of being inside her mind as she went through the trauma. But Chanel Miller did not get to take a break from it. She learnt to endure, to overcome and to strengthen from this and so the least I could do was to read her story and to acknowledge her truth. That the telling of this truth is mesmerising, articulate and beautifully phrased also contributed to making the book impossible to put down. It's not all agony and gloom. There are also many positives to be taken away from this. For every Brock Turner, there are two Swedes - the students who unhesitantly came to her rescue and who cried in sympathy with her in the aftermath of the assault. <i>I reminded myself this was not simply a fight between perpetrator and victim; there was a third element, the Swedes. They represented the seers, the doers, who chose to act and change the story. ...What we needed to raise in others was this instinct. The ability to recognize, in an instant, right from wrong. The clarity of mind to face it rather than ignore it....Masculinity is often defined by physicality, but that initial kneeling is as powerful as the leg sweep, the tackling. Masculinity is found in the vulnerability, the crying. </i> We are reminded of the wide-reached ramification of this heinous crime - not just on the author but also her beloved younger sister who was with her on that night, her parents, her boyfriend, <i>He could have left, decided it was too much. But he crawled right next to the pain, planted himself. No matter what happens, I’m here. Later he’d tell me he read the police reports on the plane ride back to Philadelphia, had become nauseous, unclasping his seat belt, sidestepping down the aisle, to vomit into the tiny sink basin. I thought of him in that little bathroom, its folding accordion door, the line of people waiting outside while he heaved the images of my body out of him. Loving someone is a painful thing.</i> other loved ones and many more who were involved in this case either professionally or personally. We are also reminded of the healing power of love. It is a buoy in choppy waters. It is the flickering flame in the dark. It will overcome. Chanel Miller covers far more ground than just her own experience. She touched upon youth suicides and gun violence - both abrupt and brutal intruders on her life and that of so many others. As she traversed the path to find justice, she is supported by several friends who too are survivors of sexual violence, but who unfortunately never got to have their day in court. Once her Victim Impact Statement was released, she received thousands of letters from women all over the world who each have their stories to share. <i>I was surrounded by survivors, I was part of a we. They had never been tricked into seeing me as a minor character, a mute body; I was the leader on the front line fighting, with an entire infantry behind me. They had been waiting for me to find justice. This victory would be celebrated quietly in rooms in towns in states I had never even been to. For so long, I’d imagined myself wandering across a dry, empty plain. This card was the puddle. The realization that just below the surface, more water led to streams to rivers to oceans. That this was only the beginning. I was not alone. They had found me. Many wrote to me saying they had been in my position before, wanted to show me who survivors become, told me about their careers, their kids, caring partners. This is what your life can look like in ten, twenty years. They gave me one thousand futures to grow into. In my anonymity, I tried on their lives and watched as they tried on mine. They became young again, finally declaring what they deserved, reclaiming all that had been taken. Healing was possible in that empty space. </i> She mentions other highly publicised cases of sexual assault or degradation of women - from Trump ("grab 'em by the pussy"), to Cosby's then Nassar's convictions to the Me Too movement. These cases all have in common male perpetrators who felt a sense of entitlement to trespass on the bodies of women, a multitude of enablers around these men who turned a blind eye or who downplayed the vile behaviour as "locker room talk", and brave women refusing to be gagged anymore adding their voices to the ever growing chorus worldwide. When she was Emily Doe - the silent, unconscious victim - few listened, few empathised, many judged her publicly. They did not get to hear her narrative, only what the press wrote about the case. When her statement was released she was silent no more. People could her her roar all over the world. And rapidly, women by the thousands roared back in reply and men were stomping their feet in solidarity. Now with her book, a more detailed version of her statement, I hope the roar can penetrate the earmuffs worn by those who chose to block out her soft cries before - Brock Turner, his family and supporters, the judge, the probation officer (who recommended a light sentence), other perpetrators of sexual violence and those who enabled them. Their days are numbered! Her statement and this book were written out of the immense frustration she encountered again and again throughout the court hearing and the sentencing process. Her words were twisted, edited, pulled out of context until their meaning is no longer recognisable as her own, until they were no longer her own. This is her truth - undiluted, undistorted, uncensored. It's ugly. It's gut-wrenching. It's uncomfortable in its exposure of her. But this time she is in complete control. These words are of her choosing. She is willingly opening herself up to us so that we can momentarily walk in her shoes. This is all about empowering herself and retaking control of her body, her mind, her life. <i>Hold up your head when the tears come, when you are mocked, insulted, questioned, threatened, when they tell you you are nothing, when your body is reduced to openings. ...Looking back, all the ones who doubted or hurt or nearly conquered me faded away, and I am the only one standing. So now, the time has come. I dust myself off, and go on.</i> Chanel Miller, you are a trail-blazer. We will forever equate your name with bravery, with fortitude, with invincibility. Take a bow. These are only a few of the many sensational lines in this stunning book that should be compulsory reading for high school seniors: <i>I didn’t know that money could make the cell doors swing open. I didn’t know that if a woman was drunk when the violence occurred, she wouldn’t be taken seriously. I didn’t know that if he was drunk when the violence occurred, people would offer him sympathy. I didn’t know that my loss of memory would become his opportunity. I didn’t know that being a victim was synonymous with not being believed. All my little stories, my private and intimate moments were being typed up and sent to Brock’s defense attorney, available for reporters to read through, where the sweetness would be diluted and reframed. I already wanted everything I’d said back, to take every word home with me. The line between what was mine and theirs was blurring. This was no longer a fight against my rapist, it was a fight to be humanized. I had to hold on to my story, figure out how to make myself heard. If I didn’t break out, I’d become a statistic. Another red figure in a grid. If a prospective juror had been sexually assaulted, she or he was immediately eliminated. I would later learn that when this question was asked, several women got up to leave. There would be no survivors in the jury. The slivers we show, the mountains we hide. When I took the stand, I knew I would be on my own. If I needed help, I would have to turn inward. Everything I need to get through this, I already have. Everything I need to know I already know. Everything I need to be, I already am. When I’d been questioned by my DA, I felt gutted, forced to come face-to-face with my painful memories, reliving it for the jury to see. Being questioned by the defense was stifling. He didn’t want to open up the emotional territory that she did; he wanted to smother it, to erase my specific experience, abstract me into stereotypes of partying and blackouts, to ask technical questions that tied my shoelaces together, tripping me as he forced me to run. I wanted to climb onto my stand with a large red paintbrush, to paint NO across the back wall of the courtroom in long red strokes, each letter twenty feet tall. I wanted a banner to unfurl from the ceiling releasing crimson balloons. I want everyone’s shirts lifted, Ns and Os painted across hairy stomachs, NONONONONO, doing the wave. I wanted to say, Ask me again. Ask me a million times and that will always be my answer. No is the beginning and end of this story. It was stunning, the effects rippling out wider than I could ever have imagined. I thought of my pain like my personal rain cloud; reading these letters was like watching the whole sky turn an inky black. When all damages were typed up and laid out it was staggering. Everyone had become a victim of this crime. The judge had given Brock something that would never be extended to me: empathy. My pain was never more valuable than his potential. In his mother’s three-and-a-half-page single-spaced statement, I was not mentioned once. Erasure is a form of oppression, the refusal to see. This sentiment was echoed in Brock’s sister’s statement: The evidence presented during his trial and the conclusions that were made about his character were only from one night of his life, from strangers that didn’t know him: a fraction of a fraction of his existence. Victims are not fractions; we are whole.</i>

A very candid and necessary read that reaches right into the heart of issues too often silenced. As a survivor myself, I found Know My Name both powerful and, at times, difficult to read—there were moments when I had to step away for a few weeks. That speaks less to Chanel’s writing and more to where I was in my own therapeutic journey. Her voice matters deeply. It’s a brave and beautifully written account of what it means to survive and to speak when the world prefers silence. Thank you, Chanel, for giving language to what so many of us have lived through. Anna Kahill Author: Not the Perfect Victim