I parked next to the unmistakable blue Subaru Outback, proudly displaying its Vermont green license plate. Constant vigilance is part of living with post-traumatic stress disorder, so I always keep my eyes peeled.
I grabbed my yoga mat from the trunk and headed into my favorite studio. After rolling out my mat in the familiar back corner—my back against the wall—I settled into seated meditation, focusing on my breath and clearing my mind in preparation for the next 75 minutes of bliss. The woman beside me, clearly new to the class, kindly interrupted my thoughts, asking about the props we needed. I got up to assist her.
After some small talk, she mentioned she was visiting from Vermont. When I told her I had been stationed in the Coast Guard in Burlington back in 2006, that was the end of our pre-class chatter.
After the class, I walked back to my car. The Vermont woman approached the Subaru parked next to mine and thanked me for my help. “So you were in the Coast Guard right on the lake, right?” she asked. I nodded. “Were you there during the rape?” Again, I nodded. “Do you know the Coast Guard rape victim?”
I’ve been asked this question so often that it no longer takes me by surprise. Some say it’s a Vermont thing. A friend of mine from Vermont pointed out, “Not much happens here, and your story comes up a lot.” Many Vermonters have rallied against the Coast Guard’s response to my horrific experience and demanded justice for me. Though I never received it, I have been fortunate to receive overwhelming support from the Vermont community, who continue to advocate for an end to sexual violence in the military alongside me.
This woman didn’t even know my name, yet she was familiar with the darkest day of my life. I responded, “Yes, I was raped while serving at Coast Guard Burlington. Please don’t call me the Coast Guard Burlington rape victim. My name is Sophia Karalis.”
“Sophia” is my first name, a name I honor in memory of my maternal grandmother, who was the fiercest feminist I’ve ever known. Grandma Sophia raised six children in Greece amidst the struggles of post-World War II Europe, fiercely working to give her family a better life. All of her children became successful in their own right.
“Karalis” is my family name, a name that dates back to the Greek genocide when a relative had to change it, meaning “the tall one,” or so I’ve been told. I can only imagine that he, like all Karalis family members, was strong and resilient. After the war, I like to think he fought hard to succeed.
It was a Karalis—my dad—who emigrated to the United States as a young man with a pocketful of change and a heart full of dreams. Through grit and determination, he achieved the American dream, building a successful business that provided for our family. I had a privileged upbringing in New York City. My parents taught us to leverage our advantages for good, giving back to our community and working toward dismantling the societal structures that perpetuate inequality.
As a child, I learned to take pride in my name. In seventh grade, I faced a typical drama where my friends pressured me to stop being friends with Helen, whom they deemed “not cool enough.” My dad asked, “What does a Karalis do?” and I realized that standing by Helen was the only choice that would give me peace of mind. In good times, bad times, and even after a brutal rape, I always had my family’s support.
Now that you know my name, let me share who Sophia Karalis really is: I’m a devoted wife (love you, Max) and a proud mom to the most amazing little boy in the world (okay, maybe I’m biased). I’m also fortunate to have a circle of wonderful friends. I’m a yogi, avid reader, ice cream enthusiast, and lover of travel. Unfortunately, I still have recurring nightmares about my assault. I remain vigilant, always on edge at the thought of encountering the man who tried to reduce me to “the Coast Guard Burlington rape victim.”
I experienced rape, but I refuse to let that define me. Please don’t label me a victim—don’t even call me a survivor. Just call me by my name.
I am strong. I am ambitious. I am powerful. I overcame a violent crime. I shared my story and founded the Military Rape Crisis Center to help others share theirs. I’ve fought for legislation aimed at preventing more stories like mine. We’ve lost some battles but have triumphed in so many others.
Rape is an event that happened to me. I accept the changes it brought—nightmares, flashbacks, PTSD, and becoming a symbol for military sexual assault. But none of these define my identity.
“The Coast Guard Burlington rape victim” is the label my assailant tried to impose on me through his actions. In contrast, Sophia Karalis, the mom, wife, human rights advocate, yogi, world traveler, executive director, author, and friend, is the identity I crafted through my choices.