I parked beside the familiar blue Subaru Outback adorned with Vermont’s distinctive green license plates. Living with post-traumatic stress disorder means I’m perpetually on alert, acutely aware of my surroundings.
As I retrieved my yoga mat from the trunk, I headed into my favorite studio. I unrolled my mat in my usual spot, positioned at the back with my back against the wall. Sitting in meditation, I focused on my breath, clearing my mind to transition from a busy workday into the upcoming 75 minutes of tranquility ahead. A woman next to me kindly interrupted my solitude to ask about the props needed for the class. A newcomer, I thought, and I rose to assist her.
We exchanged small talk, and she mentioned she was visiting from Vermont. I casually mentioned my time stationed in the Coast Guard in Burlington back in 2006, and that was the extent of our conversation before class began.
After the session, I headed back to my car. The Vermont woman approached her Subaru parked next to mine, expressing her gratitude for my help in class.
“So, you were in the Coast Guard right by the lake?” she asked.
I nodded.
“Were you there during the rape?”
I nodded again.
“Do you know the Coast Guard rape victim?”
This question has become so common that it no longer surprises me.
Some attribute it to Vermont’s small-town nature. A friend from the area even remarked, “Not much happens here, so your story is frequently discussed.” Many Vermonters protested the Coast Guard’s inadequate response to my assault, demanding justice for me, but that justice never came. What I did receive was immense support from the local community, who have stood by me in my fight against sexual violence in the military.
I don’t even know this woman’s name, yet she knows about the darkest day of my life. I responded firmly, “I was raped while serving at the Coast Guard in Burlington. Please do not label me as the Coast Guard Burlington rape victim. I have a name. I am Sophia Martinez.”
“Sophia” is my first name, a name chosen to honor my grandmother, who embodied strength and resilience. Grandma Sophia raised six children in Greece, overcoming the hardships of post-World War II Europe. Her hard work ensured that all her children grew into successful individuals.
“Martinez” is my family name, rooted in a history of perseverance. My ancestors faced challenges and emerged stronger. My father, also a Martinez, immigrated to the United States with little more than hope and determination. Through his relentless effort, he realized his American dream, establishing a thriving business that provided for our family. I was fortunate to enjoy a privileged upbringing in New York City, where I learned to use my advantages to uplift others and to challenge the societal structures that foster inequality.
As a child, I was taught to take pride in my name. Once, in seventh grade, I faced peer pressure to abandon a friend simply because she wasn’t considered “cool.” My father asked, “What does a Martinez do?” At that moment, I understood that I had to stand by my friend, defying the bullies. Through good times, difficult times, and even after a horrific assault, I knew my family was my unwavering support system.
Now that you know my name, let me share who Sophia Martinez is:
I am a devoted wife to an amazing husband (love you, Daniel) and the proud mother of a little boy who brings me endless joy (so what if I’m biased). I am fortunate to have a circle of compassionate friends who enrich my life. I practice yoga, enjoy reading, have a soft spot for ice cream, and love to travel. While I still experience nightmares from the assault, I remain vigilant, acutely aware of my surroundings, fearful of encountering the man who tried to reduce me to “The Coast Guard Burlington rape victim.”
I am a person who has endured rape, but I refuse to let that define me. Do not label me a victim. Do not even call me a survivor. Call me by my name.
I am strong. I am driven. I am empowered. I have survived a violent crime, shared my story, and founded the Military Rape Crisis Center to help others share theirs. I have advocated for legislation to prevent such crimes from happening again. While some battles were lost, I have achieved so much more.
Rape is an event that occurred in my life. I experienced a brutal assault while serving at the Coast Guard station in Burlington, Vermont. I acknowledge the changes that came with that trauma—the nightmares, headaches, flashbacks, PTSD, and being a figure for military sexual assault. But none of those define my identity.
The label “Coast Guard Burlington rape victim” is one that my attacker tried to impose on me through his actions. In contrast, Sophia Martinez—the mother, wife, activist, yogi, traveler, and friend—is the identity I have forged through my choices and actions.
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In summary, I am not defined by my past or a label imposed upon me. I am Sophia Martinez, a name that stands for strength, resilience, and empowerment.